Sep 29 2021 Day 191 Isaiah 40:1–44:28

Part of it he takes and warms himself; he kindles a fire and bakes bread. Then he makes a god and worships it, makes it a carved image and bows down before it.


A man cuts down a tree, and uses part of it for fuel, and the other part he turns into an idol. He does not see the absurdity of this, of using the same source material for consumable fuel and also for worship-worthy carvings. He is blind and undiscerning.

There’s something ironic and stinging about this, and I suspect it’s because we do the same thing with nearly every false idol we worship. Take money. Part of the money we make we use to purchase food to consume, to pay for the banal aspects of our life. Then we turn around and worship both the money we have and the money other people have, when it’s simply a means to purchase what we need. Broken toilet parts, and food. It’s the ultimate of utilitarian. And yet, our worship makes money bloated, and have to carry so much more than it can reasonably be expected to. Money isn’t the source of happiness, any more than carved wood can serve as a god. We, like the carver, are blind to the mundane but critical role money plays, rather than the bloated, worshipped one.

I suspect the same irony shows up in all of our false idols, that they all have humble but critical roles in our lives. We’ve laid upon them too many false expectations, which means we worship the idol, instead of being grateful for the fuel for cooking and heating. What about the idols of power, stardom, self-determination, success? This morning, I’m thinking about the more mundane origins or purposes of these things to see if I can strip away the false-idol worshipping.

Sep 28 2021 Day 190 Isaiah 36:1–39:8

I know your rising up and your sitting down, your going out and coming in, and your raging against me.



Hmm. To have a god that knows my rising up and my sitting down. That knows my raging against God. That is an intimate god, who knows me intimately. That is a little daunting. God knows all my foibles, my scattered thoughts, my moments of short temper. It could be really frightening until I remember that God loves me, regardless. Once I remember that, God’s intimacy is not frightening or daunting. It’s perfect.

This morning, I’m thinking about people who are missing part of this equation. There are some who think God cannot see all, that God does not know all. These people act in secret, as if there was somewhere their actions or thoughts were hidden from God. These people know God loves them, including all the parts of themselves that they parade out for God and community. The nice shiny bits. These people split themselves between the good, God loving parts, and the rest of their lives.

I have a priest colleague who had a nasty job in the marines in Viet Nam. He spent years being an excellent priest, and trying his best to forget or hide those dark and twisted parts of his life and soul. Luckily, a wise spiritual director encouraged him to bring his whole self to God, that God could, in fact, restore and renew all parts of him, and use them for God’s glory. My friend ended up becoming a respected leader in the field of post traumatic stress and spirituality. That was something he could not have done, had he continued to hide those bits from God for God’s loving transformation.

There are other people who show their whole selves to God, they hide nothing. But they’ve somewhere learned that God could not love them, that they are not worthy of God’s love. I’ve met these people on the streets, and in prisons, at coffee houses, and in offices. They feel cut off from God’s love, as if it’s reserved for the perfect, or at least more perfect.

Both of these kinds of people are desperately in need of knowing God’s good news, in word or deed.

God sees all of us, even our twisted bits. There is no point in hiding or splitting ourselves into good/visible and bad/hidden. We who know this need to show our vulnerability and our weaknesses, so that others can see that we have them. Hiding doesn’t make sense.

God loves all of us, even our visible twisted bits. We cannot separate ourselves from God’s love, regardless of our comings and goings, or our ragings against God. We are worthy of God’s love; we’ve already received God’s love. People who don’t feel worthy need to know that they are loved by God. Another friend relayed that one of the great parts of mission work, of working with people in desperate need is that through our actions, we can show them that God loves them, that God has not forgotten about them.

Today, I’m going to try to preach the Gospel to people who don’t know that God sees all, and God loves all.

Sep 27 2021 Day 189 Isaiah 32:1–35:10

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped



This bit from Isaiah is challenging for me. It’s a lot of predictions of doom and goat-demons, and barren lands, and worst of all, complacent women. I don’t know what to make of it. I’m sure it’s deeply meaningful, if I did the homework to figure out what they’re talking about. But I’m not doing that this morning.

Instead, I gleaned a line from Handel’s Messiah. As I read this line, could hear the throaty alto singing it. I wonder if Handel read through Isaiah and wandered through the bits about the jackals and buzzards and Lilith, and plucked out this line, just like I did.

I genuinely don’t understand what this section is about. The commentary entirely sidesteps this as well, focusing instead on praying with scripture. In any case, George and I are picking a line out this section of Isaiah and calling it good.

In this case, I think it makes sense. God is returning, and from that the eyes of the blind will be opened. I think it makes sense, but I’m not entirely certain since I don’t truly understand the context of this section of Isaiah.

Present example included, it makes me nervous when a single line is cited as explanation or defense of anything. It is so easy to take things out of context, or to even throw up your hands not even try to understand the context.

On the other hand, to use Scripture to support loving God and loving your neighbor, even out of context might be ok. If we believe Jesus simplification of what we’re called to do, then it seems anything we find that supports that, should be ok. Right? Love God. Love your neighbor. Maybe those are the only instances where it’s acceptable to pluck snippets from Scripture and use them to support your case.

Perhaps what makes me nervous is when single lines or quotes are used to exclude or hate or deny or exert power or anything that isn’t love. This morning, I’m thinking about how dangerous it is to pick out lines from Scripture out of context, except if it unequivocally supports Jesus’ commandment to love God and love our neighbor.

Sep 24 2021 Day 188 Isaiah 28:1–31:9

Therefore the LORD waits to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show mercy to you. For the LORD is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him.



Waiting. There seems to be a lot of waiting in Scripture. Blessed are those who wait for God. Yes. I get it. We need to wait. I strive to use waiting time for good, and boy, is that hard. Waiting for the water to heat up, waiting for the green light, waiting in line at the grocery store. It could be time that is angst filled, or time full of space and grace. I strive for the latter, by giving up the worries about time, or tomorrow, or dinner – at least for the few moments of serendipitous space.

As a newly wed, I was enamored with my husband, as I frequently still am. He was much better at turning waiting time into space. We were stuck in an airport waiting for a delayed final leg to rural Illinois. I was ansgst-full, because we were going to be dreadfully later to my parent’s home. My husband purchased a St. Louis Post Dispatch and sat leisurely and started to read it, cover to cover, extremely peaceful. When I asked how that was possible, he said that this was a brief amount of time where no one needed him, he couldn’t reach anyone, and he could just do what he wanted. Of course, this was before the days of instant access with cell phones. Hmm. Maybe next flight, I’ll put my phone in my checked bag!

Waiting is something we can easily turn into gracious space, so maybe it’s not so bad. Blessed are those who wait for God.

Interestingly, this passage starts with waiting, but it’s God who’s waiting. God waits for us! That is humbling, or embarrassing. The God who made all things, who can raise dry bones and come amongst us, that God waits for me. I bet that God is not looking at God’s watch, or tapping his holy foot, frustrated that I’m not ready or present for God’s grace. God waits. And frequently waits some more. God is ready to act, to be merciful and to bless us, as soon as we’re ready to receive it.

What that tells me is that if we find ourselves waiting for God, it’s likely because we are not ready, and that God is waiting for us. When I find myself waiting for God, I should probably figure out what God’s waiting for within me. God is unlikely ever late. I, however am frequently showing up at the wrong house, or late myself – busy with just one more thing.

This morning, I’m thinking about waiting, and how to use those stolen moments for good.

Sep 23 2021 Day 187 Isaiah 24:1–27:13



Those of steadfast mind you keep in peace—in peace because they trust in you.



Peace, according to first definition in Oxford, is the freedom from disturbance or tranquility. Some might argue that it’s the conditions outside ourselves that bring peace. A peaceful street, a peaceful evening, a peaceful nation. And while that certainly makes peace easier to find, I think it’s primarily found within. We are peaceful because we choose to be peaceful.

And taking that one step further, we can make that choice and be successful in that choice because we doggedly trust in a god that loves and that is always merciful. If I didn’t trust in a loving God, it doesn’t matter how bucolic the setting, I might not be able to find peace.

In my head, there is always a legion of thoughts and worries, mostly about the future. For some, their head is equally full of regrets and sorrow from the past. In either case, our heads are full of things that we cannot do anything about right now. And it doesn’t matter what setting I’m in, my head always comes with me, full of its unhelpful and worrisome thoughts. Even if I was in the most beautiful setting, with not a care in the world, I suspect I could find something to fret about. To be clear, I’m not talking about overwhelming anxiety. Rather, it’s the monkey-brain that I carry around with me all the time. When I get wrapped up in what the brain is thinking or worrying about, or the next shiny thing, I am not tranquil. I am not at peace.

Regardless of where I am or what I’m doing, my head, my heart, or my gut can cause turmoil. All within the confines of my corporal body. If that is true, than regardless of where I am or what I’m doing, my head, my heart or my gut can find peace. All within the confines of my corporal body.

I believe it’s my faith in God – God who is both everywhere and in my corporal body – that allows me to carry out that notion of peace or tranquility. Without a loving God, no amount of will would let me find peace in the midst of whatever storm is in my head or in my world. But with God, I can hunker down, and know I am safe from the external storm, and do not need to engage with the internal storm.

God brings peace because God is peace. It’s like Peter. When he got out of the boat, he had faith and was at peace. When he lost his steadfast faith, he was in turmoil and wet. This morning, I’m thinking about how to keep my eyes set on God, so I can actually remain tranquil, despite what’s going on inside and around me.

Sep 22 2021 Day 186 Isaiah 17:1–23:18

For thus the Lord said to me:



Isaiah is a book of prophecy; Isaiah is proclaiming what God has spoken to him. It’s largely about the decimation and rebuilding of the nations in region: Ethiopia, Assyria, Arabia, Israel. And although I don’t necessarily understand each prophecy or the importance of the specific woes thrown down on each, I understand the idea that God speaks.

The accompanying reflection is from a 12th century monk, and I’m startled by the relevance of his words. He writes, “There is no need to make an effort to hear this voice. The difficulty is to shut your ears to it. The voice speaks up; it makes itself heard; it does not cease to knock on everyone’s door.” This is a more eloquent way of something I borrowed from the Borg, whenever talking about discernment of God’s voice. “Resistance is futile”.

I genuinely believe that when we strive to hear God’s voice, we can catch a glimmer in the most interesting places. From a particular sunset, a friend’s counsel, or birds or coins on the ground. We hear God calling us to stay where we are, or to move on.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard a voice that I thought, hmm, that was God’s vocal chords, or God’s whisper. And yet, there have been times when I did sense God’s desire for me. And once that happens, resistance is, in fact, futile. The voice does not cease knocking on everyone’s door.

There is a danger with this, too. One of the symptoms of schizophrenia is delusions of grandeur, and they often involve hearing God’s voice telling them to do something wacky or dangerous. While I don’t suffer from that brain disease, I mention that symptom because if God is talking to me inside my head, how do I know if it’s a delusion or God? I believe it’s God, but so does someone having delusions. Likewise, if God is telling you to do something, how do I know it’s really God or a delusion?

I believe the knocking persists, whether it’s really God, or a delusion, or a bad dream, or a misinterpretation. Our challenge is to figure out what’s true. At one point, when I thought I knew what God wanted me to do, I talked with a spiritual companion who offered great advice. She said that if I think something is God’s will, and I tell others, I can gauge the genuineness from their reaction. If I relay something that I believe to be God’s will for me, the more it resonates for outsiders, I can take that to be truer. Of course, that presumes my friends are not delusional too.

Ultimately, I agree with Bernard of Clairvaux. The voice speaks up, and continues knocking. The hard thing is to plug our ears. The other hard thing is to discern whether it is truly God’s will, or our own prideful or delusional imaginings.

Sep 21 2021 Day 185 Isaiah 12:1–16:14

How you are fallen from heaven, O Day Star, son of Dawn! How you are cut down to the ground, you who laid the nations low!

Isaiah spends some time talking about Lucifer and Lucifer’s rebellion. I’m not sure what I think about a real devil-like character, but I absolutely understand about the sins of a devil-like character. Lucifer thinks he can do better than God. Thinks he can do without God, and so God allows him to try.

I had a priest friend once who described hell as the condition where we willingly walk away from God, and despite our pain and anguish, we refuse to return. So it’s like a self-imposed time out from God’s love and grace. And I can imagine a devil-like character to be sitting right there in the time out corner too.

In big and little ways, we all think we can do without God. Like Lucifer, God lets us try. In my experience, I get myself wrapped around the axle about something I was never asked to handle by myself, and then pride kicks in. Nope. I’m not going to ask for help. Nope, I’m not going to pray. Nope, I’m not going to turn this back to God. All the while, I’m sitting in my prison, with the door wide open.

More than thinking about a devil-like character, what frightens me about Lucifer is that I have it within me to make such asinine choices, again and again. Despite knowing better, I am wooed into thinking I can handle it, or I’m the savior of someone else, or the weight of the world is on my shoulders. All I need to fall away from God is a little nudge towards some of my greatest strengths, and all of sudden those strengths become huge risks. I’m dedicated, loyal and persistent. These are great traits when I’m working with God to some end. But all I need is a little nudge from a devil-like character, and it becomes blindly obedient and loyal, and stubborn. I can handle a lot of things. That’s good, until I get prideful, and then I run back into my unlocked prison, stubbornly doing it myself.

The frightening thing about the devil, or whatever force is not God, is that I am enticed to walk away from God, when it starts out looking like something that’s playing to my strengths. Here, Carter. You can handle this or this or this. You bet I can. Pretty soon, it’s about my prideful desire and ability to handle things. Insidious, that’s what the devil is.

This morning, I’m thinking about how to recognize the voices that start sweetly encouraging, and end up drawing me away from God.

Day 184 Isaiah 8:1–11:16



He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth;



This section of Isaiah is largely familiar to Christians because of the large role it plays in our Advent season, the season before Christmas. For unto us a child is born. It’s also familiar because of Handel’s Messiah. After we hear all of the familiar parts about the wonderful counselor coming, the passage continues with the section about the peaceable kingdom. A shoot will come from the stump of Jesse, and then the lion will lay down with the lamb, and the children will play over the adder’s nest.

After that familiar bit, we get this gem. This Prince of Peace will not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear. Rather, he will use righteousness and equity to deal with the poor and meek. I like this because it separates the senses most of us tend to use when making judgment – eyes and ears – from the more intuitive and internal tools of discerning righteousness and equity. It’s as if righteousness and equity do not come from eyes and ears, they don’t come from the tools we normally use when making judgements.

I would love to suggest we just need to be more like Jesus, and judge with that internal sense of righteousness and equity to make good and proper judgments. The problem is that I’m not sure how two different people can approach the same situation and end up coming up with the same righteous and equitable judgement. I base my understanding of what’s equitable and righteous on what I’ve learned, my upbringing, my nature, my nurture, my whole self. Everyone does the same thing, and since my whole self is unlike anyone else’s, my conclusions are likely to be unlike anyone else’s too. Perhaps we can get closer if we all use the same source – Love God. Love your neighbor. But even that leaves so much room for discord and disagreement. So not only can we not rely on our eyes and ears, neither should we presume that our internal sense of righteousness and equity is spot on. Only God’s is. Maybe we should leave the judgment to God.

Sep 19 2021 Day 183 Isaiah 5:1–7:25

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I; send me!”



Oh, I love this. Here am I; send me. I genuinely want God to ask, and I want to be like the second grader, holding up their arm, waiting to be picked. Ooh, ooh. Send me. It sounds noble. And it dons the front of one of the few T Shirts I’ve saved over the years from a glorious mission trip to Guatemala. Here I am. Send me.

And yet. This morning, I’m thinking about the darker side of this passage. My thoughts aren’t dark enough to knock it out of my top 10, but certainly enough to dampen my enthusiasm a little.

First, there’s a certain amount of pride that comes along with wearing the shirt, or raising my hand. There’s almost a sense of vain-glory that comes from thinking that I am such a good person to raise my hand, to believe that I’m willing to go wherever God wants to send me. It’s almost like that second grader, hoping to get into the teacher’s good graces, or at least to point out how smart they are. Ooh, ooh. Pick me. Hmm. I think the antidote to this is to just be aware that there’s always a risk of feeling superlative, when we find something like this that we think we do well. I’m reminded of Jesus’ words to pray in secret because God knows what you do in secret, as opposed to those who pray loudly so others can hear and see them; they’ve gotten their reward.

My second challenge with this snippet is what it follows.  “Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. The seraph touched my mouth with it and said: “Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.” I’m not sure about anyone else, but I don’t like the idea of a live coals being touched to my lip, even if it results in my sins being blotted out. Seraphs are frightening looking majestic winged beasts, and if one came towards me with a hot coal, that would surely get my attention. To touch my lips? Ouch.

My literal brain knows that this might be symbology, but it seems that it’s a symbol of something that’s majestic, frightening, and that the ritual of becoming clean is unlikely pleasant or comfortable. If after God sent a seraph to purify me, would I be as ready to say, Here I am, send me? I hope so. Reading this passage in its entirety reminds me that to be asked and to respond to God’s sending takes the seraph and the purifying too. And it’s not a one time thing. It’s every time I want to raise my hand to be sent, I need to understand that first bit that comes with the hot coals.

The final challenge with this section is that I don’t always get to pick where God asks me to go. It’s not as simple as responding to a friend’s invitation to go to Guatemala. Right now, I’ve been sent into the depths of serious brain disorders. My hand did not go up quickly for this sending. Frequently, I want a different assignment. Let me go somewhere else, that’s less emotionally taxing, less 24/7. Let me go somewhere that’s a little easier.

Here I am; send me. Ultimately, I think this is less about heading to another country, although that could be your calling. For most of us, we are called to show up for God right where we are, doing God’s work in the everyday trenches we find ourselves in. Whether that’s in the Pacific Northwest and ministering to people affected by the wildfires, or medical professionals battling this pandemic, or people caring for their children or parents or other sick family members. I believe that most of us are called to be precisely where we are, even if we don’t like it, or even if we think the grass is greener, the call is more noble, on the other side.

This morning I’m thinking about how to respond with a resounding “here I am, send me” even when it’s hard, and when the seraph is heading my way.

Sep 17 2021 Day 182 Isaiah 1:1–4:6

Come now, let us argue it out, says the LORD: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be like snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool.



Isaiah’s prophecy reports that God wants to argue things out with us, God has the fortitude to withstand our attempts at arguing with God. The notion that God is ok with arguing is nice; the idea that God is inviting us to argue with God, that is stellar.

It is through arguing that I can clarify what I think, even if it’s arguing with myself. With Scripture, there is plenty to question and even argue about. The Psalms are full of instances where the psalmist is arguing with God. Arguing is a high form of communication, I think. When we engage in an argument, we’ve decided the other person is worth arguing with, that their opinion matters, and we care enough to broach a topic of disagreement. There are plenty of instances where I won’t engage in an argument. It’s not worth it. I either don’t care about the person or their opinion enough to engage. To argue with God says that it’s worth it, God’s worth it.

The accompanying reflection is from Teresa of Avila, a 16th century Spanish Carmelite nun and mystic. She focuses on God speaking to us through other people, through good books and sermons, or even our own trials. But when we get a little more aware of God speaking to us and when we’re better at communicating with God, that’s when evil forces also try to speak to us.

When we begin our spiritual journey, we don’t argue with God; we take things on face value and simply do as we’re told. When our spirituality and relationship with God matures, we are more willing to argue. The challenge is knowing whether the argument is a genuine argument of my good intentions, or the devil’s weaseling in and causing me to question and argue, carrying the devil’s work to God.

How do we tell the difference? How do we know if our arguments are devil inspired, or God-invited arguments from my soul? Maybe it’s about prayer. And also being honest with ourselves. There are times I’ve asked for advice from someone, when I know that the right answer is not the one I’m leaning towards. I ask advice to endorse my less-than-stellar choice, knowing all the while that what I’m proposing is not the right course. I’m looking for someone to either convince me of the error of my thinking, or support my dumb idea. But somewhere inside, I know it’s the wrong choice. Maybe when we argue with God and we know better that’s not a God-invited argument.

I know I need to be on the watch for engaging in arguments that are devil inspired. I just hope I can tell the difference.

Sep 16 2021 Day 181 Song of Solomon 5:1–8:14

Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave.



“The whole meaning of life is fulfilled where there is love”. So wrote Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the selected commentator for this section of the Song of Solomon. He continues, “What do happiness and unhappiness mean, what do wealth and poverty mean, what do honor and disgrace mean, what does living at home or abroad mean, what does life and death mean where people live in love?” He basically says that the only thing that matters, the only thing that makes our life matter is that we live in love. With love, all of the other conditions in which we find ourselves are irrelevant.

Bonhoeffer did not live a full life of married blissful love. He was engaged 3 months before he was imprisoned, and the corresponded as much as the Nazis would allow for two years before he was hanged. And yet, he writes of love being so important and powerful that it overtakes all other human conditions. Life matters because of love, regardless of which type of love it is.

The Song of Songs is focused on eros, or erotic love. Scholars have read into it that it also applies to the love of or by Mary, which I believe would be considered storge, or familial love. Or it could be about God’s love, which would be more like agape, or universal love. Greek has several words for love in addition to these three, including pragma: enduring love; ludus: playful love; and philia: deep friendship.

IF we are to round out our understanding of the simple English word love, with all of these nuances from Greek, I absolutely agree with Bonhoeffer. Nothing else matters but love.

I have dear friends, some from before kindergarten. I love them, and am loved by them. And life is sweeter because of them. I have professional colleagues who I love. I have deceased parents who I love, kids both near and far that I love. Life is so much better with that love. Of course it is also harder because of that love. My parents’ deaths were harder because of love. Separation from my kids is harder because of love. Spats with friends, distances from friends, estrangements from friends is all harder because of love. And all of those problems are worth it, because the love for and from those people is so sweet.

Perhaps sweetest of all is the love I share with my husband. Today is our 32 anniversary. We’re living like we’re camping in this big old, coal and lead infested house, and soon going to be walking down the street to the gym where we take our showers. And none of that matters because of the love we share. Our sick loved one is currently doing pretty well, but never makes life easier is a blessing, because of the love I have for them, and is so tolerable because of the love I share with my husband.

I am not likely to ever write that my husband's ‘legs are alabaster columns set upon bases of gold”. But I do know that life is assuredly sweeter because of our love.

As I sit here and write, I’m feeling washed over by all of the love I have for my colleagues, and especially dear friends and family. I know that God’s love is greater and absolutely unconditional. Knowing that, I should be walking around in a blissful, loved cloud all the time. This morning, I’m thinking about how to better sense God’s love, and to be grateful for the love I share with people here and now.

Small wins. I'll take them.

 

This past week, we've worked on several projects, including the bathroom. We've taken out all of the wallboard, and the dropped ceiling in the bathroom, uncovered a previously hidden door,  and got rid of the ugly tub. We'd just pulled the tub outside, and some 'scrappers' came by and asked us if they could take it for us.  Yes, please!  It was a heavy iron tub, and they had all the straps and muscle they needed to take it away. Win/win. 

We've selected some waterproof vinyl planking for the bathroom in a medium grey color. A white vanity with a light grey top, and a 48" shower with a glass enclosure, all ordered from Lowe's.  Yet to select and purchase is the dropped ceiling, which needs to be a kind that's appropriate for bathrooms (not like the  moldy stuff we took out), lights, insulation, wallboard, paint and fixtures.  The plumber is coming this week to rough in the plumbing.  

I took the previously hidden door downstairs to remove the cracked and bumpy paint. We'll plan on painting the side of the door in the bathroom, but it's got so many layers of paint, you can't see the nice molding detail.  Alas, as I was using my heat gun to strip the paint, I had a thought.  The paint that was falling was inordinately heavy.  I realized it was most certainly lead paint. Guess what? You're not supposed to use a heat gun with lead paint, as it makes lead vapors. I'm waiting for my half face paint respirator, but had an N95 mask on, but that's just not enough to beat lead.  After some research, I discovered I can wet sand the paint, at least to get it smooth, and then just cover it over with another coat. Either that, or call abatement folks, but I cannot imagine this will be the last time I need to figure out what to do with lead.  I'm going to see if I can come up with a better DIY option.  So the door has 2 strips of paint removed, and is awaiting me to purchase wet sand paper and get back to it. 

Nook in bedroom

The room we're sleeping in has a fireplace that juts out, creating  48" x 12 " recesses on each side of the fireplace.  We've put a dresser on one side, but this side was empty, once we got rid of more boxes. I realized that a few things we needed to store would fit nicely there. First, we both have backpacks that are filled with our shower and gym stuff.  Without a working shower, we've been going to the shower at the Carnegie Athletic Club, 2 blocks away. Bonus is that we get to the gym several times a week!  We also needed somewhere to hang up towels to dry. SO..

I washed this area, to try to get rid of the coal dust dinge. I also used my wallpaper removing scraper and solution to remove the lumpy, painted-over wall paper on the 12"x12" wall, to the right of the recess.  

It worked great until I realized that the wallpaper and paint were put on top of wall board, not plaster. So after stripping off the paint and wallpaper, I was left with a gnarly soggy paper-covered section of wallboard.  I'm not sure if I'll be able to get it smooth to paint over. Possibly with some primer... 

Here's the final nook, complete with an Ikea bookshelf, some 3M Command hooks for the towels, and two hooks at the bottom for backpacks.  

This is not going to be a final finished project, but it will help us organize things while we whittle away at our list. 

A small, but successful project.

Next we worked on this funny space to the left of the main staircase. Originally, the space provided access  from the front door back to the kitchen, but it had long since been covered over with some 1970's paneling. There was a tenant in the first floor, and the second and third floor tenants used the main staircase, so they needed to provide some separation and security. In any case, the divider was way back towards the kitchen, creating cavernous and unusable storage on the foyer side, and no storage on the back kitchen side. 

We started by taking out the existing panelling wall, and moving it about 3' towards the foyer side, and framed it in. You can see how dark it is, with all the lights on, John needed to wear his headlamp to see anything back there.  

Then we put in two closet rods, one on each side. 

Below is the closet space we created for John's stuff.

And here's space we created for a front hall closet. 

Both of these spaces were better illuminated with some left-over Ikea lights, and we made a wonderful discovery that made the lights just work perfectly. 

See in the picture of the hall closet how there's a hanging light, and on the wall to the left is a switch?  Well... We have loads of nob and tube in the parts of the house that haven't been renovated, so we can't just swap out lights, or add a light here or there.  But we discovered these amazing wireless outlet gizmos.  There's a box you plug in to an outlet, and then you plug whatever you want controlled in to the box. Then you put the wireless switch wherever you want.  Voila! We were able to 'wire' a light for both sides of the new closet without actually having to wire anything. We had outlets that had been upgraded with better wiring, so we'll use them, and these wireless switches to get around having to wire things before we're ready. 

We also added one of those magic switches in the bedroom. We'd previously taken off the ceiling light to put in a ceiling fan, only to discover stiff, black nob and tube wires, and no junction box. So we still don't have a light in the bedroom. But now, we have a fancy wireless switch as you enter the room that turns on an outlet at the other side of the room where a floor lamp is plugged in.  Magic. 

We were also able to get the 'guest room' settled, as our 2nd floor tenant moved out last week.  I cleaned the carpet and windowsill, and it was ready to fill.  John's moved his office to that room, there's a spare bed, and a couch and tv.  It's almost ready to put pictures on the walls.  Given the scale of everything else to do, I'm going to call that room done!  

Sep 14 2021 Day 179 Song of Solomon 1:1–4:16 

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth! For your love is better than wine.



Hmm. The Song of Songs opens with the indication that this book was written by Solomon, and apparently, that was enough for it to be included in the original Hebrew scripture. Its meaning, and the meaning attributed to it since its writing is a convoluted story. It’s frequently been used as an allegory for God’s love of the church.

The book is full of sensual and nearly erotic talk about the love and desire between a bride and bridegroom. It appears that it was taken at face value and sung in settings where a sensual and nearly erotic song would be sung. Why else would first or second Rabbi Akiva allegedly say, “he who sings the Song of Songs in wine taverns, treating it as if it were a vulgar song, forfeits his share in the world to come.” But despite its carnal nature, Rabbi Akiva fully supported its inclusion in Hebrew Scripture, because of its holy nature (based on the allegorical reading).

Two or three hundred years later, a Christian mystic named Origen continued the holy interpretation, suggesting that the book actually refers to Christ’s love of the church. In the 11th century, a moral interpretation was added, and the 12th century added the understanding that the bride was Mary. This book has also become a Judaic mystical foundational piece of Kabbalah.

I include this divergent history for a reason. This book has finally given me some answers as to why I struggle with poetry and allegories. All of this layered meaning makes my black and white world a very muddled and marbled grey. Two smart, respectable people read the same text and come up with vastly different meanings, my sense of order is challenged. Which one is right? Clearly there is ONE accurate interpretation, right?

Obviously, the answer is that no, there is not one correct answer when different people read mystical or allegorical text. I suspect that even with very concrete text, different people can interpret it differently. Come to think of it, as I read scripture, sometimes I understand something differently than I previously understood it. So interpretations differ. And maybe, despite the risk of my head exploding, that’s all right.

If I think of this literally, these first chapters of Song of Songs is beautiful, if not foreign. I am not aware of any lovers who actually talk like this. That may be historical context, but I have a hard time imagining anyone speaking to their beloved like that, “your breasts are like two fawns”.

If I assume this is about God’s love, I get a little squeamish, as I’m not sure I like God thinking about my breasts.

I apologize in advance if my thoughts about the Song of Songs sounds more like psychotherapy, or if I miss the mark on the meaning. I’m working on it.

Sep 13 2021 Day 178 Ecclesiastes 9:1–12:14

Again I saw that under the sun the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to the skillful; but time and chance happen to them all.



And so we conclude our journey through Ecclesiastes. I’m conflicted about this, as I don’t really believe that our life, our tears and laughter, our war and love, our sowing and reaping, I don’t think that’s all a matter of chance. Of course, we do go through all those seasons, and it is true that the race is not always won by the swift, nor the battle to the strong, etcetera. But chance?

The accompanying reflection is from Frederick Buechner, who suggests that God’s ways will always win. If we want a season of laughter and God has this time pegged for a season of tears, God’s tears will win. That is certainly true.

Are we just walking through this life, awaiting God’s next predestined season for us? Or is our life one big crap shoot? And does the answer to that change how I live? I guess for me I’m more inclined to believe that I am a contributing author in my life, while God is the author and editor. My actions and my beliefs can affect the outcome of this season or the race I’m in. I’m not sure where the analogy came from but it’s like a mother who lets their child learn to ride a bike. The child may fall down and get hurt, and the mother lets them try anyway. The mother keeps the child out of mortal danger, or at least tries. God wants us to learn to ride a bike, and lets us try. And sometimes that puts us in a season of tears.

If I believed that my entire life was predestined, every choice I made, every outcome, I think it would be demoralizing to think that I had no impact on my world. Again, God has the ultimate say, and I think God wants me to be an active participant in how my life unfolds. And regardless of whatever good or crummy choices I make, I think God says, “I can work with that”.

Likewise, if I thought my life was just a matter of capricious chance, that would be demoralizing too.

In either of those extremes, I have no impact. My actions wouldn’t matter. That would be hard for me. Thinking also about the really downtrodden, I would find either of those extremes unpalatable. Do I believe God predestines someone to have a debilitating mental illness, or to be homeless, or to die in a New York skyscraper? Or do I think that’s just bad luck? I don’t like either of those extreme explanations. Again, I think we are contributing authors, with some impact.

There are plenty of imponderables when it comes to my role in my outcome. I do know that God ultimately is in change, and desires good for me. This morning, that is enough.

Sep 12 2021 Day 177 Ecclesiastes 6:1–8:17

Do not be too righteous, and do not act too wise; why should you destroy yourself?



Being righteous and wise are, overall, good things. But like all good things, when they are done to excess, they cease being good. I’ve seen this in workplace settings, where someone is a know-it-all, and any wisdom they have is overshadowed by their vanity about that very wisdom.

I’ve also frequently seen this in church settings with righteousness. Some people are so enamored with their righteousness, or the righteousness of their denomination, or their religious cause that any genuine righteousness is overshadowed by their fanaticalness. In my tradition, we believe that the bread and wine are both earthly bread and wine, as well as the body and blood of Christ. This makes our celebration of Eucharist make more sense. It’s a way to genuinely partake of Christ. But that belief can turn fanatical.

During my early training days, when we broke for lunch we also had a Eucharist service. Using real bread, a crumb fell on the floor, and one overzealous student was super upset that Jesus’ body had fallen on the floor, and interrupted the service as he was crawling around, trying to find it.

Yes, we want to be reverent. We want to respect the service, our tradition, our beliefs, our personal practices of spirituality. And when all of that turns into the ends, rather than the means, we are in trouble. A friend described this phenomena very well. She said that we we get in trouble when we worship Jesus, instead of following Jesus. Or said another way, we need to stop worshipping Jesus, and start following Jesus.

When we act from a place of following Jesus, that tempers our righteousness because it’s clear Jesus wasn’t too righteous. I’ve seen this too. In Portland there is a church that used to have a Eucharist combined with a meal in the evening, an experimental dinner church. The ‘service’ had all of the requisite components in our tradition, including a reading from the Gospel, the Lord’s Prayer, a time for reflection about the scripture, prayers for the community and world, and a time for the priest to consecrate the bread and wine before it was passed. The service was very low key, and eventually turned into more of a meal for the unhoused and mentally ill.

Any excessive righteousness stuck out like a sore thumb. Everyone was brought back to the basics of following Jesus. And by following Jesus in a genuine way, we worshipped while following. The part of the service where the priest utters the words immediately before we share communion is sometimes dry and prescriptive. One priest at this service did a magnificent job of talking about the night before Jesus died and how he shared the bread and wine. The motley gathered crew was spellbound. When we shared communion together, it was probably the most genuine sharing of Christ’s body and blood I’ve ever experienced.

Instead of getting wrapped up in the ‘right’ way to do things, we were asked to follow Jesus, and it was undeniably Right.

When we in the church are not careful, we become overly righteous, and it’s off-putting to others in the congregation, and even more so to newcomers. This morning, I’m thinking about how we need to follow Jesus, both individually and collectively, rather than worshipping Jesus.

Sep 11 2021 Day 176 Ecclesiastes 3:1–5:20



This is what I have seen to be good: it is fitting to eat and drink and find enjoyment in all the toil with which one toils under the sun the few days of the life God gives us; for this is our lot.

Ecclesiastes is a book that spends a lot of time pondering whether everything we do is chasing after the wind, or vanity of vanities. In the end the author concludes that what is good is when we eat, drink and enjoy the toil we’ve been given for the few days of life has given us. The author goes on that if one finds themselves with wealth and possessions, they should accept what they have, and find enjoyment for the few days that God has given them as well.

This makes me happy, as before this conclusion, it was sounding as if everything was chasing the wind. Everything was vanity. That makes life seem rather futile, and I cannot believe God has put us on this earth for futile purposes.

Whether one is given the path of toil or possessions, the way to stop chasing the wind is to enjoy them in the moment. To everything there is a season: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to cry and a time to laugh, a time to keep silence and a time to speak up. To everything there is a season.

The unifying aspect of all of this and the way to stop chasing the wind is to enjoy the moment, regardless of what that moment brings.

The accompanying reflection this morning is from the Cloud of Unknowing. No one knows who authored this book in the 1300’s, but it has become a classic in the realm of Christian Mysticism. Given my easy befuddlement at poetry and allegories, I struggle because I don’t understand much of it. I enjoy when it’s pulled into bite-size relevant pieces, like today’s commentary.

The commentary reflects that God has given us time at one precious particle after another. And in every particle of presence, ‘heaven can be won or lost’. God does not give us time in any manner other than one small moment following another. We don’t get moments concurrently, we don’t get to go backwards for a do-over, nor do we get to jump ahead beyond this precise moment.

I take all of this to mean that life unfolds for us one particle at a time. We experience all this life has to offer for the few days we’re here one particle at a time. Whether we toil or have riches, cry or laugh, it doesn’t matter. All we have is this single moment. And in each moment we are given the choice to enjoy it, or not.

This morning, I’m thinking about today’s 86,400 seconds, and how I might find enjoyment in each particle of time, regardless of the season I’m in.

Sep 9 2021 Day 176 Ecclesiastes 1:1–2:26

The wise have eyes in their head, but fools walk in darkness.



51%. Looking at the amount of this book we’ve read, we’re finally past the half way mark. That’s something to be celebrated.

Other than the words to the Pete Seger song, “To everything, turn, turn, turn. There is a season, turn, turn turn”, I must admit that I was not very familiar with Ecclesiastes. And starting the book, it’s a bit of a downer. It’s attributed to Solomon, but that’s contested. Regardless, it begins with the author talking about being wise, gaining wisdom, toiling hard. And in the end, he muses, the good, hard working, wise man dies, just like the fool. “Vanity of vanities. All is vanity.”

If a man gains wisdom, he eventually dies and what does it matter that he was wise? Besides, when he gains wisdom, he also gains vexation (a woefully underused word, I’d say). If a man toils, what does it matter because when he dies his hard work goes to the next man, who may not have ever toiled for it. And what use is there in laughter? The author repeatedly says all of these things – seeking wisdom, toiling, being wise, acquiring stuff like gardens, houses, slaves - all of it is like chasing the wind, signifying nothing under the sun.

Hmm. I suppose in a big existential way, these things don’t signify anything. I was just thinking last night that my parents are not on this earth any more, and their toil and possessions and wisdom have vanished. It’s like they never were here.

Except I’m here. And I am who I am because of their wisdom, and toiling. So maybe if we just think of ourselves, the author is right. Seeking all of this and working hard is like chasing the wind. It won’t change the fact that we’ll die and someone else will live in our houses, and enjoy our possessions. The vanity of vanities, I think is when we think we’re doing this for ourselves, or for our own grandeur.

When we realize that we do all of this for the legacy we leave, I don’t think it’s vanity or useless. The people we encounter – whether it’s friends, family or colleagues, they are affected by us. And so on, and so on, and so on. And I’m formed by who my parents were, and my friends and colleagues, and so on, and so on, and so on.

Thinking about my current situation, I’m knee-deep in a major house overhaul, and the water is rising. It’s too easy for me to jump out of bed, and start on my tasks at the house. Without the structure of a paying job, it’s been hard to contain my house toiling. It creeps into the time I want to be reading and reflecting on scripture.

Part of that is legitimate. My husband and I are creating a mental health shelter for one, with all of the necessary supports, and infrastructure. That is good and holy work. I need to be on the lookout for the vanity that creeps in, however. This house is an old and majestic home, that we want to bring back to its former glory. I need to watch out though that it’s not me seeking the vain-glory.

This morning, I’m thinking about chasing the wind, and trying to make sure I keep my priorities on what’s really important, rather than vanity that whispers that we should strive to be important, smart, wise, wealthy.

Sep 7 2021 Day 175 Proverbs 31:1–31

[I]t is not for kings to drink wine, or for rulers to desire strong drink; or else they will drink and forget what has been decreed, and will pervert the rights of all the afflicted.

Kings and rulers should not want strong drink, lest they forget what they’ve done, and even worse, pervert the rights of the afflicted. This bit of Proverbs come from King Lemuel’s mother, who was advising her son. Makes good sense. No mother would want their powerful son to have strong drink and risk the good works they’ve done.

And here’s where the counsel gets strange. She continues that while strong drink should not be given to rulers or kings, it should be given to those who are in great distress. “Let them drink and forget their poverty, and remember their misery no more”. Hmm.

Apparently, even in biblical times, people were drowning their sorrows in strong drink. Not only did it happen, it’s advised in Proverbs. This makes me think of the chronic alcoholic who’s homeless. Or those with significant mental illness who self medicate with alcohol or other substances, perhaps unknown during biblical times. Or the people living in crushing poverty throughout the world. Some huff paint, some smoke opium, some drink, some take whatever substance will “remember their misery no more”.

I’m absolutely torn about this. I definitely don’t think that you can really drink away your sorrows; trouble doesn’t cease just because you’re in a stupor. But being comfortably numb to despair seems not so bad. We who have relatively comfortable lives are so quick to judge those in misery who try to drown their sorrows. Taking me as an example, I’m loathe to give money to beggars. It’s not that I think they don’t deserve it. Rather, I’m too judgmental about how they might spend the money, that it’s better for my soul to not wonder. I don’t want to support a substance abuse problem, but I also don’t want to worry that this is where my money is going. Hence, it’s been easier to not give to people begging. It’s easier on my conscience.

That logic has served me well for years. But now, thinking about this bit of Proverbs, I’m not sure. Who am I with my comfortable life to suggest that others should face their reality, just like I do? I’m not facing the same despair and poverty. Not only that, but there is little reason to think their despair will cease. I certainly can’t do much about it.

Again, I’m torn. I’ve bought the party line that we should avoid drugs and alcohol. That altering your reality with drugs and alcohol is not helpful, and can actually harm you. But if I had chronic mean voices in my head, I might want to drown out those voices. If I lived in a tent on the streets, I might want to blur that truth.

If we can’t do anything to remove their despair and poverty, why should we be entitled to judge how they face their truth? Tough stuff.

Bathroom update, and Steel Valley

 

We've begun working on the first floor bathroom. It had an ugly tub, not framed in, a dropped ceiling, and a cracked pedestal sink that leaks. We started by removing the ugly dropped and stained ceiling tiles. It turns out that the dropped ceiling was added to cover some plumbing that was added to upgrade the second floor bathroom. You can kind of see that the window was just divided by the dropped ceiling. When we took off the tiles, it turns out there was yucky mini blind at the top of the window, also obstructed by the dropped ceiling. We got all of that down. 

There was a door in the living room that appeared to go into the bathroom, but from the bathroom, it wasn't there.  It seemed like it was a second door into the bathroom that had been long since nailed shut from the living room,  and wall boarded over from the bathroom. When we took off the wall board in the bathroom, we found the remnants of the door. The bathroom is too small of a room to have two doors, but we will probably swap out the current door from the kitchen, and instead use the door from the living room.  It will make the bathroom flow better, and it will give us more wall space in the kitchen. Unlike previous remodels, we will remove the door frame we aren't using!

The next step for the bathroom will be to have a plumber do the rough-in plumbing, and then we'll put in cabinets, flooring, sink and shower.  

When we removed the wall board and filthy insulation, we found a lot of black dirt.  Like, a lot.  The same black dirt that covered the blinds and the walls.  

We had a contractor come over to see if he wanted to help us with our little project. He asked if we'd come across any black soot.  Um, yes.  Well, it turns out that being six blocks from what was at one time the largest steel mill in the country means that the houses built around the turn of the century have loads and loads of coal dust.  So it's not dirt or soot. It's coal dust, and it's everywhere. I took a cover plate off a switch, and there was coal dust in the switch fixture.  It is absolutely everywhere.  We've since heard from two people whose parents who either worked in the mill, or commuted from Homestead to Pittsburgh.  They routinely brought a second shirt and suit coat, because their first one would be filthy just form the air particulates.  Another worker folded his shirt cuffs up, so that when he got to work, he could unfold them and they'd be clean.  

The houses built around the turn of the century were built when the air was thick, and apparently, it always looked like dusk, from the coal dust.

Here's a picture from the Library of Congress of the Homestead Steel Mill, around the time our house was built.      

After we cleaned up from the coal mine that is our house, we went for a great bike ride. We rode along the Monongahela River, that would have been at the far edge of the mill in the picture above. Now it's a beautiful river, with lots of green and a great bike trail. We rode past the pump house, which was apparently the site of the infamous Homestead Strike.  In 1892, Carnegie was out of the country and his deputy, Henry Clay Frick (of numerous art museums) was in charge. There was a threatened strike, and Carnegie told Frick to handle it.  Whether he knew of Frick's excessive plans or not is unknown.  But Frick ordered armed Pinkerton guards to come and protect the plant, and allow people to come in to work.  It got ugly, and eleven people died, mostly the Pinkerton force.  According to law friends, the Homestead Strike was a key event in labor law precedent, as well as labor movements in general.  Here's a plaque honoring the clash.  

And here's another plaque with a great summary.              "The Pump House symbolizes the sacrifices and struggles American workers endured - and continue to endure - to secure their fundamental human rights as workers and as citizens.'

Here's our bike route. It took us through the cities and boroughs of Munhall, Homestead, Braddock, Rankin, Swissvale, Edgewood and Pittsburgh, not to mention a long stretch through Frick Park. 

And if there's any question about the coal mine that is my house, here's my beloved before he cleaned up.  Yes, he had a mask and eye protection! 

Sep 6 2021 Day 174 Proverbs 30:1–33

The eye that mocks a father and scorns to obey a mother will be pecked out by the ravens of the valley and eaten by the vultures.



Hmm. If this were literally true, we’d be an entire world full of blind people and vultures. Although my parents were great people, I think there was certainly a time when I mocked my father and didn’t obey my mother, and I was a pretty obedient kid. I’m not talking about taking my father to task, or publicly mocking him. But aren’t all of us guilty of some of this parental dishonoring at some point, probably in our teens? To be clear, I’m not suggesting it’s egregious dishonoring, or that we all continue to do it. But still…

This morning I’m thinking about Scripture, and its value to us. If I read this literally, it’s easy to dismiss it as clearly not true. I think that’s a risk of reading any Scripture literally. Was Noah really 900 years old? Did God really plant a Tree of Life? Did we all spring from Adam and Eve?

With God all things are possible, so yes, any of these things could have happened, and could be literally true. Or they could be wonderful stories from an oral tradition to help tell a greater Truth. A prime time law show I watched explained this well to me. The mother, a powerful lawyer and agnostic was talking to her teen age daughter, who had just recently found God. The mother asked if the daughter believed that God created the whole universe and all of its inhabitants in 7 days. The daughter thought a moment, and answered that it is certainly possible, with God being all powerful. But that more likely, it was a way for people of an oral tradition to explain two unfathomable questions. First, where did all of this and all of us come from? And second, how powerful is God? To tell an origin story as fantastical as the 7 day creation story answers both, and leaves the hearer with a crystal clear image of God’s greatness. The story is also so pithy that it’s easy to remember and tell their children, and their children’s children.

Another problem with literalism is that there are conflicting story. There are two origin stories in Genesis. They can’t be both literally true. There are four different accounts of Jesus and his life that include several inconsistencies. If Scripture is literally true verbatim, how can we account for these discrepancies?

Here’s the slippery slope. If we are willing to acknowledge that not every word in Scripture can be literally true, but we’re also holding on to our belief that the rest IS literally true, who died and made us arbiter of truthness of God’s word? Unless God has provided some key or summary, how do we know what bits are literally true and which are not? What if my understanding of what’s literally true is different than yours, and I claim God told me which parts to hold on to literally?

The closest I think we come to that key is Jesus’ words. If as Christians, we believe that Jesus is God-made-man, then Jesus’ words are the verbatim words of God. Of course, there is the pesky business of the human authors who wrote down Jesus’ words. They could have easily gotten something wrong.

All of this is to say that I think we lose the greater Truth of scripture, when we spend too much time pondering the truths it may or may not contain. This bit for Proverbs is less about blind people and fat vultures, and more about how when we dishonor or disregard our parents, we can become blind to the wisdom they have, and it’s not a pretty site when we’re stumbling around ignoring their wisdom. Today, I want to think about the Truths I’ve learned from scripture, as opposed to what is literally true.

Sep 4 2021 Day 173 Proverbs 27:1–29:27

Many seek the favor of a ruler, but it is from the LORD that one gets justice.



We do this, don’t we? We try to get a good ruling here on earth. And it starts early, with brown-nosing teachers. We try to get in the good graces of people with some degree of authority, teachers, parents, bosses. In a community, we seek the favor of institutions – of courts, governments, church leaders. Even the disciples did it with Jesus, their teacher. Who among us is the greatest?

We seek fairness and vindication from human leaders. We even go to court to have judges rule in our favor. But the proverb suggests that only from the Lord can we actually get justice. What does that mean, when we sometimes receive favorable rulings?

Perhaps the distinction is a larger cosmic sense of justice. Only God can know how to make things just, even though judges try. Only God knows the overall scorecard to assure justice is meted out.

Think about the difference between public defenders and big corporate defense attorneys. Judges rule, but their ruling may not reflect true justice. It may more reflect ability to pay. God is just. Mere mortals cannot ultimately be just, as we do not see the biggest picture. We are too influenced by power, prestige, money. God is unmoved by power, prestige, money.

It seems that this proverb is suggesting that there is a distinction between what we seek by way of favorable ruling, and God’s justice. We need to remember that when we are trying to pass judgment on others, and when we seek favor. It’s not the same thing as God’s.

Sep 3 2021 Day 172 Proverbs 25:1–26:28

If your enemies are hungry, give them bread to eat; and if they are thirsty, give them water to drink; for you will heap coals of fire on their heads, and the LORD will reward you.


I was a little nervous about Proverbs. There are too many pithy calendars and memes that lack depth. The verses come in two line sentences which lend themselves to pithy calendars and memes. Not only that, there are women’s ministry organizations based on Proverbs that seem to lean far more conservative in a woman’s role in the world, marriage, and ministry than I support. All of that made me apprehensive.

And yet, here we are and I’m enjoying Proverbs far more than I’d feared. This is due in part to the way it encapsulates really important messages in really short, pithy two-line, meme-worthy phrases. Ironic, huh?

For example, the phrase I pulled out today. If your enemies are hungry, feed them. If they’re thirsty, give them drink. Yes! I’ve heard we need to hear things multiple times and in multiple ways before it sinks in. Here’s another way to say a key message. This is another way of saying we are called to love our enemies, and it says it in a very practical way. Give them what they need. Period. No exceptions.

This little gem goes on to say that if we are nice to our enemies, it’s like heaping coals on their head. While I understand that to be true, I don’t think that’s the intended motivation. I’m reminded of an instance in Portland. The big cathedral downtown has a great priest who’s in charge and is openly gay. When he was new in his role, an anti-gay conservative Christian group picketed with signs and chants outside the church in the winter. It was cold and rainy, but they persisted. After some time, the coffee-hour guild came out with hot coffee and cookies for them. I know the guild’s intention wasn’t hot coals, but I also suspect some of the protesters felt the heat.

My husband is fond of saying that doing the right thing is always the right thing. That’s his secular way of saying the same thing as Proverbs. Do the right thing. Love your enemies, regardless of coals, and regardless of God’s favor. It is always the right thing.

This morning, I’m thinking about how to feed my enemies, and give them what they need, especially the enemies I find harder to help.