Seeking Deeper Soil

Dear Faith Family,

What could a good and governed life with others look like?

This is the question we encouraged one another to ask towards the conclusion of our "talking politics" conversation on Sunday. It's a natural question considering that politics literally is the activities associated with the governance of people sharing life with other people. Indeed it's the question to which each party and pundit is offering a flavored answer. No one (or at least very few) are satisfied with things the way they are. Everyone is offering a vision of a new future, which is why many of us feel confused and overwhelmed.

Whatever varied version we end up persuaded or convicted to affirm (in part or whole) feels a bit shallow. Some are too idealistic; others not broad enough to address the issues at hand. In the soil of our current environment, even the noblest conceptualizations seem to lack the depth and fertility to bring about something truly different, actually new.

So where are we to go? Where do we go with our noble dreams of belonging and living together? The answer, contends Willie James Jennings, is to "seek a deeper soil." In the following quote, Jennings offers a "noble dream," for good and governed life, a dream you may or may not share. Regardless, take note of where his dream takes roots, and what is then produced.  

Commenting on his book, The Christian Imagination: theology and the origins of race, Jennings says, 

This work...joins the growing conversation regarding the possibilities of a truly cosmopolitan citizenship. Such a world citizenship imagines cultural transactions that signal the emergence of people whose sense of agency and belonging breaks open not only geographical and nationalist confines but also the strictures of ethnic and racial identities. This is indeed a noble dream even if it is a moving target given the conceptual confusions and political struggles around multicultural discourse. Yet I hope to intervene helpfully in this conversation by returning precisely to the question of the constitution of such a people and such a citizenship.

However, rather than building the hope of a cosmopolitanism from the soil of an imagined democratic spirit,  I seek a deeper soil.  That deeper rich soil is not easily unearthed. It is surely not resident at the surface levels of Christianity and ecclesial existence today. Yet Christianity marks the sport where, if noble dream joins hand with God-inspired hope and presses with great impatience against the insularities of life, for example, national, cultural, ethnic, economic, sexual, and racial, seeking the deeper ground upon which to seed a new way of belonging and living together, then we will find together not simply new ground, not simply new seed, but a life already prepared and offered to us.

It seems to me that the "already prepared and offered" life which Jennings says we'll find when our visions are planted in deeper soil is the "Blessed" picture Jesus paints in his  Sermon on the Mount. 

While we are quick to separate state and scripture, and prone to dismiss Jesus as an ideal,  we must remember, Jesus' portrait of a good and governed life is not an alien utopia, but very much grounded in the reality of daily experiences. Kingdom citizenry does not remove us from our American constituency but rather, sprouts up within it from deeper and more fertile soil.  This earthiness cultivated in life with the  "otherworldly" depicted in Jesus' preached vision of life together is what allows us to pray to our heavenly Father with faith-filled, 'God-inspired' hope, "Your kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven."

So, no matter how you answer the question in God-honoring faith*, in this moment or in the future, remember that your conviction must join hands with God-inspired hope and a "seek first his kingdom and his righteousness" perseverance.  Only then will our lived response have the flavor and clarity of a new way already prepared and offered.

Love you faith family. God bless.


*See Romans 14, especially Paul's exhortation that "Each should be fully convinced in his own mind," with the motivational driver of honoring God (vv. 5-8), and the necessity to act with conviction of faith (vv. 22-23). 

Responding to Absurdity

Dear Faith Family,

First, a quick word on my invitation last week to "talk politics." I sent an email the other day with details of this Sunday's conversation. If you didn't receive that email and need the details or to RSVP, please email me. Hope to see you Sunday!

Speaking of Sunday, on this past one, we found our hearts exposed, and our Father's heart revealed through Jesus' words in Matthew 5:17-48. As we progressed through Jesus' six antitheses, "You have heard it said...But I say," we spiraled deeper and deeper into the heart that divides, becoming more and more uncomfortable and defensive as each new layer was exposed. And yet, even as we moved further into our internal and social segregation, we found ourselves ever more aware of the heart of our Father for us,  for something more and 'perfect' (5:47-48).

The heart of the divide is our self-righteousness, which is why entrance into the kingdom requires a "righteousness that exceeds" the self-identified righteous (5:20).  A self-righteous heart demands what we are owed, "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth." (5:38). Yet to a heart hardened by entitlement (and even by true loss) that requires of others, Jesus says "Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you."

"As if!" was a term made famous in the mid-nineties by the movie Clueless, a truly great film. (If I knew how to insert emojis, you'd see the laughing eyes with tears and the winking face after that last comment...just so you know!).  "As if," was the main character's typical response to what she considered an absurd observation or suggestion.  While obviously dated, this phrase nonetheless captures how we feel when Jesus tells us to give what we have rather than demand what we are owed.

Certainly, Jesus' observation is absurd, especially for creatures so demanding of our rights. But the absurdity is not in what he says we give up, but in why he implies we are able to do so. The poet Malcolm Guite helps us feel the absurdity in his aptly titled poem "As If," 

The Giver of all gifts asks me to give!
The Fountain from which every good thing flows,
The Life who spends himself that all might live,
The Root whence every bud and blossom grows, 
Calls me, as if I knew no limitation,
As if I focused all his hidden force, 
To be creative with his new creation, 
To find my flow in him, my living source,
To live as if I had no fear of losing,
To spend as if I had no need to earn,
To turn my cheek as if it felt no bruising,
To lend as if I needed no return,
As if my debts and sins were all forgiven,
As if I too could body forth his heaven. 

So, when our hearts demand of others and the Spirit reminds us of Jesus' insistence to 'give' instead, might "As if!" flow off our lips from a new and 'perfect' heart. 

Love you faith family. God bless. 

Stay Salty

Dear Faith Family,

My note this week is a bit longer than normal and has to do with a couple of sensitive subjects: social media and politics. I say this upfront so that you have an out, but I hope you don’t take it.

What we have been hearing Jesus say to us and about us in the Sermon on the Mount has compelled me to share publicly what I usually reserve for back porch conversations. I certainly claim no expertise on either topic, though I am not unstudied. And while you may or may not agree with the argument or find my concluding suggestions helpful,  I do hope you’ll accept the invitation at the end.

Regardless, know I love you, faith family. God bless!

*************************************************************************************************************

“You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall it be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people’s feet.”

(Matthew 5:13)

 
Salt preserves life, or at least the life-giving properties and potential of that which will not last. What would naturally decay and rot ends us sustaining life when coated in salt. That’s the image of Jesus’ metaphor anyway. So, what is it that we salty people are to be preserving?

The not-forever living in the world are the social constructs of our existence: governing bodies, the nuclear family, the local community, institutions like the church, school, for- and non-profits, civil authorities, as well as economic systems and vocational occupations. Such entities and operations structure and order our daily existence in society, and thus their functionality has a direct impact on our experience of life on earth. How they function either sustain life or quicken its decay.

Now, these constructs (for the most part) are not eternal. The hope we have is a day in which the unmitigated presence of God with us is what provides structure and order to our everyday existence. We look forward to a time when the limited function of these structures is no longer needed. Yet the temporalness of our social systems and organizations does not negate their necessity for God’s kingdom come and willing being done on earth today.

As kingdom citizens, we are meant to preserve and draw out the life-giving peculiarities of these God-created structures. We are kingdom of heaven citizens and children of our heavenly Father, who are simultaneously conscientious constituents of a particular place and peoples and influencers for the good of that particular place and peoples. I doubt many of us would object to this essential, familial responsibility. And yet, the problem of losing our saltiness, our distinct taste as Jesus refers to it, is a pressing issue for each generation of his followers, and we are no exception. Unfortunately, our generation is struggling with staying salty.   

While there are multiple contributors to our dilution, one factor stands out in our cultural moment. There is mounting sacred and secular research demonstrating that the tools we use to be conscientious members of society are, in actuality, keeping us from being the people we are meant to be. As the salt of the earth, we preserve the intended usefulness of our social constructs to aid in living out God’s envisioned goodness as humans, and so, the tools we use should have the same humane function. But what if our means of engaging with social constructs operate in opposition to the fullness of our humanity?

In a not-so-grounding breaking, but convincingly constructed documentary titled, “The Social Dilemma,” the founders and contributors of the Center for Humane Technology (CHT) set out to pull back the curtain on the tool of social media (and subsequently, ‘mainstream media’s’ coopted parallels). Most Americans (including us Jesus followers) access and assess our world through some form of social media, i.e., Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, news feeds, and other apps. Most of us think of social media as a means. It is merely a resource to connect, find out information, be entertained for a bit, contribute to change, and interact with our community and world. But what if we are wrong? What if social media is not an inert object waiting to be picked up and put to proper use under human influence (i.e., a tool), but instead a shaping and demanding mechanical intelligence?

While never intended to subvert our humanity, this so-called “tool,” by which we access and assess our daily world, takes advantage of our human psychological and social propensities and weaknesses to form (not “inform”) what we think and what we will do. Rather than us using social media to contribute to the good of our social constructs, the collective tool of social media is using us. Or so the documentary argues.

The documentary is worth your time, especially the comments during the credits. While there is certainly bias in this crafted narrative, there is credible research (not to mention experiential evidence) to substantiate their claims of social media's construction, intentions, and impacts on human society and individuals. My point in bringing this up is that our dependent use of social media (out of ignorance or addiction or both), to be informed and influence, actually dilutes our “Christian tang,” as John Stott called it.

Here is what I mean. Our consistent use of social media (and mainstream media) to access and assess politics, systems, structures, institutions, other humans, etc.—keeps us from being who Jesus said we are to be with wisdom, empathy, and mutuality. The mathematical mind of the economic algorithms creates an isolated, bubble world where the information we take in and the actions we are encouraged to take lack right perspective and good intent. Leveraging our psychological propensities and social needs, social media reinforces a mechanically crafted version of “our truth,” or “our rightness,” shielded against any cognitive dissonance that might break through from interaction with a real-world source. We have bubble vision, not because we have chosen to isolate, but because we have chosen a tool to access and assess our daily world that isolates. As Neil Postman so famously said, “the medium has become the metaphor.” Modernizing Postman’s critique of “T.V. culture,” in the 1980s, we can say,

“Social media…encompasses all forms of discourse. No one goes to a movie to find out about government policy or the latest scientific advances. No one buys a record to find out the baseball scores or the weather or the latest murder. No one turns on the radio anymore for soap operas or a presidential address. But everyone goes to a social media feed for all these things and more, which is why social media resonates so powerfully throughout our culture. Social media is our culture’s principal mode of knowing about itself. Therefore – and this is the critical point – how social media stages the world becomes the model for how the world is properly to be staged. It is not merely that on the phone’s screen, your mechanically crafted bubble vision is the metaphor for all discourse. It is that off the screen, the same metaphor prevails.” 

Therefore, all political discourse (discussions on how to best organize life with others) ultimately circulate within individual bubble visions without ever overlapping. There are points of contact but no withness. Yet, a healthy polis requires overlapping circles, like in a Venn diagram. Distinctions are neither lost nor all-consuming. 

In overlap we have to come together, compromise, show empathy and understanding, mourn our part in the divide, admit we don’t know it all, show mercy, learn from differences, die to self, and love an enemy, and actually share life with others. Within isolated bubbles, we do not need the very characteristics of a healthy human society (or a godly one).

And while the CHT crew cannot seem to nail down “the one thing,” behind all this, we can help shed light on that too, as well as a way forward (Matt. 5:14-16). But, only if we stay salty. And so, I leave you with some suggestions on how to do just that…

CURATE | select and organize how you assess our social constructs (i.e., what sources you go to for information), and do the same for the content you access. Don’t let headlines grab you or your feed guide you. Pick and choose, and be willing to work to see as clearly as possible.
 
CULTIVATE | the characters and qualities inherent in kingdom living. Spend more time doing those things that help you see and interact with the world through the vision of the Beatitudes than through any other tools. Let the medium of Spirit-filled scriptural contemplation in community become our metaphor for social engagement.
 
CONVERSATE | Have conversations about organizing life together, i.e., politics. Overlap bubbles in face-to-face dialogue with family and friends and people you may or may not think alike, but who have a common identity in Jesus. Because of our current state of affairs, this is a rather daunting suggestion for some. But as a couple of friends told me recently,  “If you can’t talk politics with me, we are not a faith family, we are just a social club.” So, let’s talk politics as a faith family…in my backyard @ 3:00 pm on October 11th! Save the date and I'll send out more details soon. 

A Story & A Song

Dear Faith Family,

"When we get this introduction right, we will have acquired an accurate and comprehensive imagination with which to interpret virtually everything Jesus taught concerning the kingdom-of-God..." This is what Eugene Peterson says about Jesus' opening lines of the Sermon on the Mount, that introduction which we call the Beatitudes.

From parables to proclamations, Jesus has a lot to say about life under God's intimate and purposeful rule. The preponderance of space in the gospels committed to Jesus' teaching on the kingdom-of-God suggests that it is pretty important to get what he is saying. And the Beatitudes, according to Peterson, help us do just that.

Through Jesus' introductory couplets, we come to recognize that "God wills our happiness," as he titles us "Bless-ed." He also describes the kind of existence that can receive and live out the bless-edness that he shares. Similar to his kingdom stories, Jesus' pronouncement and depictions in the Beatitudes reveal much about the nature of our heavenly Father, what he gives, and what he desires for his children

Nevertheless, we have a propensity to read the Beatitudes like a math equation: "Blessed are the people who do X because they will receive Y."  In doing so we miss the already present realities inherent in the experience of God's rule: his graciousness and abundance. This tendency of ours to miss what is offered reminds me of the parable of the two sons who similarly struggled in Luke 15:11-32. 

You are probably familiar with the often labeled "parable of the prodigal son" (if not, take a minute to read it). So, let me encourage you this week to consider the Beatitudes through a story and a song. As you cycle through another round of Sermon on the Mount readings, reflect on the story of the two sons through the song below, considering what is missed and what is given. 

“Two Lost Sons”

Read the sermon, remember the story, hear the song,  and let what is lost be found, an accurate and comprehensive vision of kingdom life.

Love you, faith family. God bless. 

"that unrest which men miscall delight"

Dear Faith Family,

The quote in the subject line of this email, "that unrest which men miscall delight," is taken from a poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley about the revelation of dying. It is a poem about the clarity by which those who go beyond their end can give the living.

While our culture would not have us think about the end of our lives, it is the end from which Jesus' Sermon on the Mount begins. The goal of living, at least historically, is to live well. To look back over our existence and say that it was a good life. In turn, a good life is not merely an ideal achieved but an action, an existence in which we can say of our daily striving that we did well. Our "activities and actions of the soul that involve reason" were good and for the good. In antiquity, such a life was referred to as "happy" or "blessed." It is a life with the end in mind that Jesus describes for the citizens of the kingdom of heaven in Matthew 5:2-16.

In Shelley's poem, it is on the other side of death that we can see life for what it is, and what it will someday be. Having crossed the threshold of the end, the poet’s deceased companion (the “he” in the poem) sees that much of daily existing is under the unrest that comes from our mislabeling of the happy or blessed life. "delight," being another word for happiness. Death allows the poet to recognize the source of many of our woes, as well as something better. Listen to the phrase in the context of the poem:

Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep,
He hath awaken'd from the dream of life;
'Tis we [the living], who lost in stormy visions, keep
With phantoms an unprofitable strife,
And in mad trance, strike with our spirit's knife
Invulnerable nothings, We decay
Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief
Convulse us and consume us day by day,
And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.

He has outsoar'd the shadow of our night;
Envy and calumny and hate and pain,
And that unrest which men miscall delight, 
Can touch him not and torture not again;
From contagion of the world's slow stain
He is secure, and now never mourn
A heart grown cold, a head grown gray in vain; 
Nor, when spirit's self has ceas'd to burn,
With sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn.

He lives, he wakes--'tis Death is dead, not he...

In the world, we will have trouble, Jesus says, but he who went to the end and beyond declares that we have peace in him (Jn. 16:33). Jesus sees as Shelley’s companion that through death he has overcome the stormy visions of our living clay and says we need not mourn a heart grown cold and a head grown gray in vain, for our life is not wasted for those who see through death. Instead, we can rest in true delight, in a life lived well in the end, and doing well on our way. For, like Shelley, we too see life through the death of another,

"We were buried...with [Jesus] by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his." (Rom. 6:4-5)

Through Jesus, we, too, have “outsoar'd the shadow of our night,” to a place of rest, of “Peace, peace!” Jesus has put Death to death,  and now as King of the kingdom of heaven, "wields the world with never-wearied love/Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above," as Shelley would say. We may not elude envy, calamity, hate, and pain in our daily existence, but we need not toil because of “miscalled delight.”

Seeing through death to the "newness of life" will help us identify what we have "miscalled delight." Those images, goods, dreams, aspirations, necessities, codes of conduct, recognition, authority, power, etc. that we seek, which we think would make us happy. As we immerse ourselves in the Sermon on the Mount, we’ll discover, like Shelley, that many struggles in our existing stem from the pursuit of mislabeled happiness and, therefore, are overcome in a life lived well in Jesus.  
 
And so,  as we repeatedly read through the Sermon on the Mount, ask God to illumine your heart to these three questions:

1. What have I “miscalled delight?”

2. How has this mislabeling led to my and others (my family, neighbor, co-worker’s) unrest?

3. What does a life lived well and doing well along the way look like, according to Jesus? 

 
Then feel free to discuss with others in the family.

Love you faith family. God bless!

Fresh Repetitions

Dear Faith Family,

This past Sunday, we began a series on the Sermon on the  Mount, found in Matthew 5-7. In his paramount preaching on the "kingdom of heaven," Jesus paints a portrait of how we can experience the fullness of life within God's intimate and personal rule here and now. We'll be contemplating this livable depiction together for the next couple of months. 

To help keep the whole picture in perspective as we focus on the details, I asked you to commit to reading the Sermon on the Mount three times a week throughout the series. I also said I'd share some ways to keep repetitive reading fresh, so here you go!

First things first, mark out your "three-day cycle." Whether you choose to read Mon-Wed-Fri, Sun-Tue-Thur, or some other combination, mark it down! If you don't mark the days in your calendar--and set a reminder--you'll find the series past, and due to lack of intentionality, that you've missed out more often than made it through. 

Second, dedicate the first "three-day cycle" to getting to know the text. Simply read the sermon in its entirety each sitting. Start by asking the Holy Spirit to open your heart and mind to the portrait Jesus paints, and end by giving thanks to the Father for wisdom through the Son.

Third, begin alternating through the objectives of each "three-day cycle" detailed below. With each reading revolution, pick a different goal to shape the way you read through the Sermon on the Mount that week.

If you follow these suggestions, you'll find yourself able to keep the amazing portrait of a life that Jesus paints in total perspective as we get into the details. Not to mention, you'll also discover just how applicable this ancient picture is to your life and our community today! 

Love you faith family! God bless. 

ALTERNATING OBJECTIVES 

One of the best ways to keep repetitive reading fresh is to alternate your weekly goals. Having determined your "three-day cycle" for each week of the series, you can now outline the objective or intention for each week's revolution. Below are my suggested goals for each week.  Feel free to mix and match for yourself.

Week 1 (Sept 7th-13th) | Familiarizing Yourself
Read the sermon in its entirety, each sitting. Start by asking the Holy Spirit to open your heart and mind to the portrait Jesus paints. End by giving thanks to the Father for wisdom through the Son. 


Week 2 (Sept 14th-21st) | Spiritual Listening
Day one of the cycle, read chapter 5; on day two, read chapter 6, and on day three, read chapter 7. Each day, go through the rhythms of Lectio for that chapter. Read first for the words to be familiar. Read second to listen for a particular word or phrase from the Spirit. Read again, asking for clarity on that word or phrase. And read one final time asking how the word of the Lord applies in your life today. 


Week 3 (Sept 22nd-28th) | Seeing Connections
On day one of the cycle read through the entire sermon marking every word that gets repeated. You may want to use different color highlighters or pens to keep the words sperate. On day two of the cycle, focus on chapter 5 and the repeated words. Consider how they connect (within this chapter and to the others) and what point Jesus is trying to emphasize through repetition. Do the same on day three for chapters 6 and 7. 


Week 4 (Sept 29th - Oct 4th) | Noting Discontinuities
On day one of the cycle, read the entire sermon, marking where you think Jesus is changing subjects. Try to ignore the subject breaks noted in the Bible translation you are using or read through this translation. On day two, consider the discontinuities in chapter 5. You've already thought through what is the same in this chapter and its relation to the others. Now consider what is different. Why does that matter? How does that add to the whole portrait? Consider the same questions for chapters 6 and 7 on day three of the cycle. 


Week 5 (Oct 5th-11th) | Spiritual Listening
Repeat the instructions from Week 2. 


Week 6 (Oct 12th-18th) | Hiding It In Your Heart 
Day one of the cycle, slowly and prayerfully copy chapter 5 down on paper, paying attention to each word you write, imagining yourself putting it in the vault of your heart like a precious treasure. Repeat the process for chapter 6 on day two and chapter 7 on day three. 


Week 7 (Oct 19th-25th) | Picturing Your Life
Each day of this final cycle, read the sermon in its entirety. As you do, consider how your life over the last six weeks has looked more, or less, like the picture Jesus paints. What has changed? What still needs to change? End each day asking the Father for continued strength in the Spirit to experience the "blessed" life in Jesus' kingdom more fully, for your sake and for others. 

A Helpful Haunting

Dear Faith Family,

Are there any verses in the Bible that haunt you? You know a verse or passage that, while not always in direct focus, is hovering around somewhere in your mind? You can sense its presence, and every once in a while, it pops out as a warning (or perhaps an encouragement)? Well, there is a proverb that has haunted me for as long as I can remember,

"There is a way that seems right to a man,
but its end is the ways of death."
(Proverbs 14:12, 16:25)

Often, while reading, watching, listening, or amid an internal dialogue, the apparition appears like a lemure, startling me to attentiveness.  With the proverb echoing in mind, I take deeper (and more prayerful) consideration of what I am doing and thinking.

Oddly enough, the proverbial visitant makes its appearance in the most mundane, acceptable, and seemingly harmless contexts.  In other words, when I least expect it!

There is a reason for this peculiar materializing, I believe. You see, my tendency, like most of us, is not to do things that I know to be antithetical to the way of Jesus.  Oh, I certainly have moments, like all of us, where I want to give into my flesh. But, in those contexts, I know that what I desire is not what is good and true and beautiful. Generally, and predominately, I, like most of us, long to live life in-step with God, moving with the flow of the Spirit in God's continuing story.

But here is the thing, my good intentions can be manipulated and used to reduce life, rather than make it abundant. This is most especially true in life areas that appear neutral or harmless by societal standards, yet shape our understanding of the world and our place within it most significantly. Here is how Georges Bernanos describes our tendency via his young cleric in The Diary of a Country Priest,

"Sometimes I think of [the ways of death] as trying to get a hold of the mind of God, and not merely hating it without understanding, but understanding it the wrong way round; thus unknowingly struggling against the current of life, instead of swimming with it; wearing [ourselves] out in absurd, terrifying attempts to reconstruct in the opposite direction, the whole work of the Creator."

My haunting proverb is, I believe, a gift of the Holy Ghost. The Helper and Spirit of Truth, keeping me from unwittingly wearing myself out by going against His flow. And so, my prayer for you is two-fold. First, if you have a haunting verse, that you would recognize and treasure its periodic stirrings. And second, that my proverbial phantom would take up residence in you too!

Love you faith family! God bless. 

Talking It Out

Dear Faith Family,

On Sunday, we began to answer the question: How do we recognize God's voice? Like most questions in our faith, the answer is not a formula but rather familiarity. The kind of familiarity that stems from and fosters an intimate relationship.

Dallas Willard contends that the only way for you and me to learn to recognize our heavenly Father's voice with confidence and clarity is through experience. Through you and me, learning to distinguish the voice of God with others.

There is one Good Shepherd, and we are--each of us--a part of his one flock (see Jn. 10:1-16). Some in the flock have been following the Good Shepherd's voice for a while longer than others. They recognize the distinct characteristics of his voice in contrast to the other voices and noises that fill the ears. And so, they can help us other sheep distinguish the Good Shepherd's voice as well.

What does that mean for you and me, and our faith family? Well, three things:

• First, that each of us should be actively listening to for the Good Shepherd's voice. Some of us do this regularly, normally, almost instinctively (like well-cared-for sheep!). Others are new to the flock and need some help knowing which voice is the one to listen to. And still, others are perhaps too content with letting someone else listen for us. Whatever way you'd describe yourself, the rhythmic practice of Lectio Divina is meant to help become and remain familiar with the Good Shepherd's voice.

• Second, for those who are more familiar with the distinctive characteristics of God's voice, we should be actively helping our fellow sheep recognize his voice. While it is true and good that those who regularly and normatively talk to God usually don't talk a lot about their talking, we need to recognize our responsibility in the flock. We need to be more vulnerable in our meekness, willing to share about our conversations with God for the sake of others.

• Lastly, for those less familiar or confident in distinguishing God's voice from the many other voices filling our ears, we should be actively asking the more familiar to listen to us. We need to be willing to share what the voices we are hearing sound like and our saying with those who can help us discern their source. Unless we are willing to talk it out with others, we'll struggle to grow in the natural process of learning to recognize the voice of the Good Shepherd.

If Hearing God is going to be normative, we need to be active listeners and talkers. Sharing with humility and courage what we know and experience regarding the voice of God. So this week, and the next, and the next; commit to making a habit of talking about your listening with those in your Gospel Community, in your DNA Group*, or brothers and sisters outside of our faith family. And in doing so, let us build one another up to "the unity of faith and the knowledge of the Son of God, to full-grown humanity," and the glory of our Father.

Love you faith family. God bless.


*If you are interested in learning more about DNA Groups, let me know. 

Knowing Isn't Believing

Dear Faith Family,

Knowing and believing are not synonymous, though it is a common mistake to consider them so. You see, knowing is a head thing, an acknowledgment, with varying degrees of conviction and certainty that something is true.  But believing is a heart thing, an acquiescing to the power of what is true. 

In regards to our faith, we can know many things that are true about God, about how God works in the world and what he is up to, and about what God says is true about us and how we can live in this world too. We might even have unwavering convictions that what we know is inarguably true, and yet, we struggle to believe. That is, we struggle to live as if what we know is powerful enough to make a difference.

This necessity of moving from knowledge to belief is why even those of us who know with all certainty God's goodness, graciousness, greatness, and glory can, nevertheless, be wracked with anxiousness, shortsighted, and overcome by grief and despair. What we know stays in our minds and struggles to make its way to the core of our being. Perhaps that is why it is said that that the greatest distance a person can travel is the eighteen or so inches from their head to their heart. 

Helping what we know to become what we believe has been a consistent task of God's people for millennia. Fortunately for you and me, what our faith family has discovered about this journey from knowing to believing turns out to be quite simple--though never quick!

The late Henri Nouwen describes the descending movement of faith from head to heart, perhaps better than anyone. And he does so in a way that helps you and me cultivate a life of believing what we know. Here is what Nouwen says,

"How do we concretely move from head to heart? When I lie in my bed, not able to fall asleep because of my many words and worries; when I am preoccupied with all the things that I must do or that can go wrong; when I can't take my mind off my concern for a needy or dying friend--what am I supposed to do? Pray? Fine, but how do I do this? 

One simple way is by slowly repeating a particular prayer with as much attentiveness as possible. Focused prayer, first in the mind and then repeated in the heart, becomes easier the more you practice.

When you know ['the Lord's Prayer,' or the 'Shema'] by heart, you have something to start with. Just begin praying those prayers repeatedly. You might like to learn by heart the Twenty-third Psalm ('The Lord is my shepherd...)' or Paul's word's about love to the Corinthians or the Prayer of St. Francis* ('Lord, make me an instrument of your peace...').

As you lie in bed, drive your car, wait for the bus, or walk your dog, you can slowly let the words of one of these prayers go through your mind down to your heart by trying to listen with your whole being to what you are repeating. You may be distracted by your worries, but if you keep going back to the words of the prayer,  you will gradually discover that your worries become less obsessive, your attention becomes more focused, and you really start to enjoy praying. As the prayer descends from your mind into the center of your being [i.e., your heart], you will discover [the truth's] healing power."

My suggestion, commit to memory one or more of these prayers. Then, when you feel the damn between the head and heart being built up by anxiousness, doubt, or busyness, follow Nouwen's counsel and slowly repeat the prayer with as much attentiveness as possible. I believe in doing so, you'll discover the power of what is true, and the truth shall set you free.

Love you. God bless. 

*The Prayer of St. Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy;  

O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love.  

For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.  

Imprisoned by Hope

Dear Faith Family,

Being optimistic and living in hope is not the same thing.  

I know perpetually cheerful people and others who have never met an issue that could not be turned into something positive. Do you know anyone like that? For some of these fine folks, their sunny disposition and superficial optimism are defense mechanisms or simple naivete, but not for all of them. Some have the gift of brightsidedness that is needed in a world maligned with darkness, especially when the Spirit employs their gift in moments of "mourning with those who mourn and rejoicing with those who rejoice." But for those of us who lack such a gift and who desire not to shield ourselves from the world as it is, how are we to live? 

It doesn't take a long look around to lose optimism for our country and culture. Old sins continue to oppress and divide. New sins make everyone with a phone, judge, jury, and cancelor. We've politicized a pandemic and have lost the ability for civil discourse, not to mention listening with empathy. What exactly do we have to be optimistic about?

We are not the first to recognize the brokenness of our current state and loose optimism for its future. In a 1997 Frontline interview, Harvard professor, Dr. Cornel West was asked if he had any optimism about our nation's trajectory. His reply is honest and compelling,

"I am not optimistic, but I've never been optimistic about humankind or America. The evidence never looks good in terms of forces for good actually becoming prominent. But, I am a prisoner of hope, and that's very different. I believe that we do have signs of hope, and that the evidence is underdetermined. We have to make a leap of faith beyond the evidence and try to energize one another so we can accent the best in one another. But that is what being a prisoner of hope is all about."

I think Dr. West describes well the power of biblical hope. A hope that does not dismiss the weight of the world. A hope that does not deny the evidence and effects of dysfunction. And yet, a hope that sees beyond the evidence, peering through it and emphasizing what is too easily overlooked: God's image and perseverance.

Imprisoned by such hope, we cannot help but see with sobriety and live with steadfastness. Neither being superficially optimistic nor without the confidence to continue. 

There is often little evidence to encourage optimism for this or any age. Good thing hope does not require us to be optimistic. So faith family, may we be prisoners of hope, "And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up." (Gal. 6:9)

Love you. God bless.

There Is Always a Response

Dear Faith Family,

On Sunday, we looked at the final two ways God addresses us personally: through union with the human voice and spirit. While less dramatic than the other ways God speaks, union with distinct human voices and our inner thoughts and attendant feelings are certainly more intimate and often.

The intimacy and normalcy have a purpose, to help us mature into the kinds of persons God desires us to be. While the spectacular addresses have their place and benefits, it is these ordinary forms that cultivate minds, and hearts, and wills that freely and fully involve us in the love and work of God as "colaborers and friends."

One area in which we can see the deepening benefits of God's addressing us through union with the human voice and spirit is our prayer life.

Now, we know that God will not always give us what we want or what we ask for, but he will always answer our prayers. Do you believe that?  God will always respond to us in some way, for that is the nature of a conversational relationship.  

But wait. You might be thinking, "Can't we all give accounts of requests to God that we never "heard" anything in response? Certainly, he didn't give us what we asked. So are you saying that silence sometimes is the answer?" No, I am not! I am actually saying the opposite.

The issue many of us face in "unanswered" prayer or seeming silence, is that we are not listening to intimate and often forms of God's addressing. We are looking and listening for the spectacular or abnormal. Perhaps even looking only to outward signs--like the thing asked being done--and no voiced response at all.  

But when we learn to recognize His voice in union with the human voice and human spirit--his most intimate and regular means of addressing us--we'll discover that God does indeed reveal to those he loves his intentions (1 Cor. 2:9-16); including the denied requests.

We see this in the apostle Paul's story. Inflicted with "thorn in the flesh," he begged God to remove it, multiple times (2 Cor. 12:7-8). Yet God did not oblige Paul's request, but God did not keep silent. Instead, Paul says, "His [God's] answer was: 'My grace is all you need; power is most fully seen in weakness.'" (2 Cor. 12:9).

God spoke to Paul, even in His denying of Paul's desire. In the same way that we would not give our children the silent treatment if they were earnestly asking us for something, even if we didn't think it best for them, so too God will not leave his beloved children just hanging.  He is not, as one author noted, "impassive towards us, like an unresponsive pagan idol."

So, this week, as a way to practice, consider those things you have been praying to which you have received only silence or seeming denial so far. Then ask our Father,  "Why the delay or denial? "

Pay attention to the thoughts that come into your mind, especially the ones that won't just float by or keep returning. Maybe its a passage of scripture, a past conversation, an idea of God,  a truth about his kingdom, or something more specific to you. Whatever they are, write them down.

It may take a few times asking before you'll be in place to hear God's response. But, don't worry, it took Paul at least three times, so you're in good company! Stick with it, and remember Jesus' words about the propensity of our Father in heaven to answer,

"Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be open to you."
(Matt. 7:7)

Love you! God bless. 

What Is Plugging Your Ears?

Dear Faith Family,

I know a not-to-be-named acquaintance whose spouse snores. I am sure many spouses snore, but in this particular case, the nightly noises cause more than brief wakings and fail elimination with elbow nudges.  So, to sleep in the shared space of the spouse and remain somewhat aware of the surroundings, this acquaintance uses earplugs. These are not noise eliminating, sound-proof bubble creating headphones. They are the malleable foam kind that fit and figure themselves to the ear's canal, muffling sounds, muting the intensity and consistency of the noise. Sounds hit the ear like a "far off" noise or background chatter rather than a face-to-face conversation...or a freight train!

While earplugs help my acquaintance sleep and aid the acquaintance's marital relationship,  earplugs are not as helpful when employed in relationship with our heavenly Father. Oh sure, they'll help us sleep, but muting the intensity and consistency of His voice is the reason for our difficulties and complaints in Hearing God.

To be sure, many of us are guilty of using earplugs without even being aware of it. Some of the earplugs are products of our environment and education. We have chatted about a few of these:

• our misguided understandings of who God is and what he intends for us,  

• our mistaken ideas about how God speaks, and

• being unaccustomed to God's verbal vibrations (like Samuel). 

Nevertheless, some of the voice filtering material in our heart's ears is indeed of our own making, such as a  lack of shared focus, which we discussed a couple of weeks ago. But there are two additional earplugs that cause God's voice to seem "far off" or indistinguishable chatter. They are:

• being unready to put his word to use, and

• self-employment.

Being unready to put God's word to use has nothing to do with skills or effort. Instead, it has to do with our devotion. Devotion is an old word, I know, but it remains the best descriptor. As a devotee, my attitudes and actions revolve around the will of the one to whom I show fidelity. That's why Jesus taught us to pray, "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done" (Matt. 6:10).  

If I am honest, there are times when my devotion is splintered, and there is little regard for what "Thy's will" is. What He desires is so far from mind and heart that if I were to hear him speak, I wouldn't know what to do with it. For, as Dallas Willard reminds us when God speaks, "it is to accomplish his good purposes in our lives." My lack of devotion to his glory and allegiance to his kingdom, muffle the continual guidance daily sounding.

While being unready to put God's word for me to use can be (at times) a passive plugging, the final earplug is undoubtedly not. The earplug of self-employment requires some honest examination for us Jesus followers. Many of us, myself included, pray Jesus' prayer for God's kingdom to come and his will to be done on earth as it is in heaven as a general desire but not as participants. We have no problem asking for the provisions that follow in Matthew 6:11-13, but at the end of the day, we are self-employed receipts of governmental grace rather than kingdom collaborators. Dallas Willard puts it this way,

"perhaps we [have trouble hearing God] because we know we fully intend to run our lives on our own and have never seriously considered anything else. The voice of God would therefore be an unwelcome intrusion into our plans." 

If hearing God is going to be a willing, conscious companionship, we'll have to recognize and remove those earplugs that muffle his voice. Earplugs we are all guilty of using from time to time.

So I want to invite you this week, and throughout this series, to repent with me. Consider these common, malleable, earplugs, and then ask our Father who formed us and knows us and who desires us to have ears that hear without obstruction, to  

"Search me, loving Father, and know my heart! See for yourself what's clogging my ears; then guide me with unsuppressed volume." 
(Psalm 139:24, a bit adapted!)

Confessing what earplugs we use allows us to unstop our ears, and experience the clarity and intensity of a voice that is face-to-face. May we bear much fruit in keeping with repentance.

Love you. God bless.

Something Is Different

Dear Faith Family,

Just under two months ago, an already unsettled world began to be turned upside down, at least for me. While the evil that took George Floyd's life has been a constant force operating within our country's history (and the history of the world), and while the outpouring of pain and anger and call for justice has been just as constant, there was something different this time. Something was compelling me to listen. 

Perhaps the lack of news due to the pandemic lockdown made the sadness, hurt, and injustice an inescapable reality. Maybe the free time kept the wounded and the wanting on the streets giving voice to what has been avoided by many of us. Both are undoubtedly true. Yet, what made this time different for me was the invitation from friends to consider the moment with them.

The first, a request from three friends in our faith family to listen to their hearts. In the semi-cool shade of my front yard (really it was not cool at all!), these three women shared what our Father has been speaking to them regarding His heart for racial justice. Together we considered how He might be guiding and working in others--including myself--at that moment, and what we could do in response. They invited me to listen. To listen to the Lord in and through them, and to listen for myself to our Father revealing His heart and my responsibility.

The second, a bid from a friend, who is a black pastor, to listen to his hurt and let him listen to my heart. At a slightly sheltered picnic table soon to be drenched in sweat, this man shared with me the full range of emotions that he had been speaking to our Father. He also asked me how I was feeling and what I was thinking about this moment. Together we considered how our Father might be guiding and working in us and what we could do in response. He invited me to listen. To listen to the Lord through his pain and to listen to our Father in my thoughts and feelings. My friend also asked me to listen to the Spirit by learning with him the history of his anguish and my responsibility.

The months since these invitations have been a lot of listening and learning, at least for me. Listening to friends and historians, pastors and protestors, theologians and sociologists, the hurt and the healing, and the Hurting Healer. While I have much left to hear, what I have heard so far is already changing me. Things and people look, sound, and feel different. 

This time is different because I was invited by friends to consider the moment with them. To listen to their hearts. To listen to my own. And, to listen with them to the Spirit who "will convict the world," including me, "concerning sin and righteousness and judgment" (Jn. 16:8).  And so I want to invite you too to consider the moment and to listen as well.

Specifically, I am inviting you to listen: 

WITH US | Join with those in your faith family who are considering our Father's heart and our responsibility at this moment. All you need to do is click here to join the conversation. 

TO DR. KING | In April of 1963, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. penned the letter linked here from the Birmingham jail in response to public words from faith leaders. So I listen to men who, like me, possessed both empathy and ignorance. And, like me, were functionally blind and hard of hearing. And I listen to Dr. King's words which are concise and clear. Words written with unwavering conviction and Christ-like concern that something would be different this time. 

May our considering this moment, and our past, give us "an ear," to "hear what the Spirit says to," our faith family. 

So Be It

Dear Faith Family,

One of the most common words in our "church speak" is a word uttered primarily out of habit. It is a word that passes out of our thoughts as quickly as it passes over our lips. The word is amen.

Routinely, amen follows words used to praise God, to beseech God, to acknowledge God, in other words: prayer. For millennia now, God's people have uttered this two-syllable affirmation of the certainty of prayer as an act of faith.

In more recent history, amen rings with the declaration "so be it," or "it is so." When we say amen, we validate the words which precede it--the words that speak of God's goodness, God's power, God's justice, and God's presence--as true and truly received. When we say amen, we declare, "Yes, God is worthy, God is mighty, God is here," so be it...it is so.

Amen is meant to ground us in the confidence of the One to whom we pray so that we might pray with certainty and without wavering. But can I be honest? Many prayers of mine end in amen but lack the conviction of the "verily" spoken.   

I wish it were not the case that my amens are often habitual rather than faith-full. I imagine I am not alone in this aspiration. So as a way of mutual encouragement, I leave you with these words of confession and hope on which to meditate and make your own.

Malcolm Guite | Amen 

When will I ever learn to say Amen, 
Really assent at last to anything? 
For now my hesitations always bring 
Some reservation in their trail, and then 
Each reservation brings new hesitations; 
All my intended amens just collapse
In an evasive mumble: well, perhaps, 
Let me consider all the implications...

But you can read my heart, I hear you say: 
For once be present to me, I am here, 
Breathe in the perfect love that casts out fear
Open your heart and let your yea be yea. 
Oh, bring me to that brink, that moment when
I see your full-eyed love and say Amen. 

Love you. God bless. 

A Not So New Practice

Dear Faith Family,

On Sunday, we turned our attention to the source and means of experiencing our God gifted free life: a conversational companionship with Him and His family.  Our focus on Sunday was on unclogging our hearts to open our ears, preparing us to focus over the coming weeks on developing competency and confidence in the all-important skill of shared life with God: Hearing God.

While we will discover and discuss the multifaceted nature of God's speaking to us, there is one particular practice our faith family for over millennia has used to mature in assuming and discerning God's communing with we, his children. The practice is called Lectio Divina, literally translated "divine reading."

Lectio (as we'll refer to it), is a framework, guide, or structure used to help us in our often distracted lives and noisy minds, to dialogue with our Father through His word. In Lectio, we assume that God has spoken in the words written and that those words help us recognize His voice today. When incorporated into our regular rhythms, Lectio grounds our hearing in something sure (scripture) and helps tune our ears to be attentive to the living and active voice, which is the foundation of our conversational companionship throughout our everyday routines.

In regards to the practice itself, Lectio has four "movements": Read, Reflect, Respond, Rest. Each step guiding us deeper into dialogue with our Father through the scripture and Christ, who is in us via His Spirit. While Lectio can be applied to almost any passage of scripture, psalm, or story, it is best used in familiar or easily understandable texts or ones in which we have a bit of context. The purpose of the practice is dialogue through meditation and contemplation, so having to do a lot of research kind of defeats the point.

Lectio is not a new practice for our faith family. We've often used it in our Gatherings and have put together several guides for the practice. For instance, last summer, while in the books of Ezekiel & John, we used Lectio to help us engage with God through Jesus' seven "I AM" statements. These would be an excellent place to start to (re)introduce you to the practice.

CLICK HERE FOR ‘I AM’ LECTIO GUIDES

These guides will most likely migrate over the current series resource page in the coming days, along with additional guides to help us mature in our competency and confidence in Hearing God, especially amid the disorientation of our current moment.

One last word on Lectio. The assumption of those in our faith history who developed this practice was that it would be the starting and balancing practice for knowing God and His word. Lectio was the beginning practice for individuals (within the community, of course) in the study of scripture. It was also incorporated into the regular rhythms of the more "mature" to help ensure that studying God did not replace communicating with God. In other words, it is a practice for all of us, no matter how much (or little) we know or how new (or learned) we are in following Jesus.

Praying that you have the humility and courage to enter into an ongoing conversation with our Father. If you have any questions or need any help along the way, please don't hesitate to ask. 

Love you all. God bless. 

A Fresh Image

Dear Faith Family,

This past Sunday, our journey towards learning to live freely and lightly through Galatians came to an end. In his farewell remarks, the apostle Paul drew our attention once more to the image that captivated and compelled his vision of the free life. A historical event and transformative symbol by which Paul viewed himself and the everyday world he inhabited: "the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world." (6:14). 

The cross as the symbol of our faith is nothing new to you and me. I know that today crosses decorate the walls of many of our homes. I know that today crosses are worn around many of our necks and tattooed on many of our bodies. If anything, we might be too familiar with the cross. But what if, like for myself, the image of the cross cultivates very little dissonance in the way I see myself and the world I inhabit? What if it no longer carries its original weight and appall as an instrument of death and unavoidable consequence of systems and states governed by human wit and wisdom?  Well, when that happens, we need to see the cross afresh, which is my hope for today's letter. 

We know that "God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life" (John 3:16). And that is why we cherish the cross, the "giving" of the Son for us. But did you know that Jesus' declaration directly preceding this famous verse helps us understand how the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ helps us see our daily steps in the world which God loves? Here is what Jesus said in John 3:14-15,
 

"In the same way that Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert so people could have something to see and then believe, it is necessary for the Son of Man to be lifted up--and everyone who looks up to him, trusting and expectant, will gain a real-life, eternal life."  

Jesus is referencing a story of the wilderness wanderings of Israel from Numbers 21:4-9. The people of God find themselves between deliverance from enslavement and freedom in the fullness of the promised land. And the in-between is hard on God's people! It is a physically, emotionally, and spiritually challange maturing along their journey, as what they thought they knew of themselves, of the world, and of God is being stripped away as they learn to trust God's presence and provision. They complain a lot. They quarrel amongst themselves, a lot. They fight against other peoples and forces, a lot. They grumble, moan, and grow impatient with God's way in and for them. Sound familiar to anything you've experienced?

Anyway, at the climax of their fatigue, they venomously speak out against God's act of salvation, calling it worthless and for not. It is here that "fiery serpents" are sent among the people, and many of them die. A rather traumatic scene, don't you think? Seeing friends and family attacked by snakes and dying, as God's presence and provision is removed--since it was worthless after all.

Quickly the people take back their words, recognize the sin in wanting something other than the Lord and his way, and plead for his mercy to "take away the serpents from us." It's here that God does something not merely merciful but formative. Something not only to remove the forever consequence of their sin but to give the people an image to look at every time the reality of living in a world of sin bits them.

Carlos Ruiz, a pastor in Chicago, describes the scene and its implication this way, "After [the people of God] repented for their sin and asked for help to Moses, it would have made sense for God to remove the serpents right away in order to heal them. However, God did not do that. On the contrary, God asked Moses to build an icon of the very creature that was causing them to die, a serpent of bronze. Whenever they would look at the serpent of bronze, they would be healed and live...an odd way of being saved. It is odd and scary because they realized that if they looked at the traumatic icon, instead of running away from it [or becoming too comfortable with it], they would live."

The people in Numbers did not stop getting bit by the manifestations of sin, but they did have something to look at when they felt the sting, something to look at that would allow them to live despite the bite of sin. Ironically, the image was the very thing that bit them. The serpent in bronze was a visual manifestation of their discontent with God's presence and provision; in other words, his way to the good life. They were not given an image of a better life to look at to live, but rather the visual reality of the worst in this world.

In the same way that Israel in the wilderness was meant to look at an image, not of another world but the reality of this one to "live," so too are we to look to the cross as an image of reality as it is so that we might "gain a real-life." For, when we look at the image of the cross, we see two things. We see the real-life outworking of life on our own--and thus the same limitations and consequences of those we share this world with. And, we see God, amid things as they are, giving real-life, taking away death, limiting the consequences of our sin--and the sin of others.

Think about that for a moment--maybe for the rest of your life(!)--but at least for a moment right now. When the difficulty of living between deliverance and future promise begins to bite, when suffering the venom of others and even spewing our own, we can look to "the Son of Man lifted up" like "the serpent in the wilderness," admitting the reality in which we live and the mercy and grace of a new life gifted.

Just think, instead of quarreling, complaining, and all those other "works of the flesh" Paul says leads to "biting and devouring," when we see the manifestation of sin in our lives and experience it through others, what if we looked up to "the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ"?  What might life look like--how might we see our next steps--through that line of sight?

Love you my friends. May what our Lord Jesus Christ gives freely, be deeply and personally yours. God bless. 

A Weighty Week

Dear Faith Family, 

The last few weeks have felt weighty. There has been a heaviness all about us in our city, society, and culture. And, there has been a heaviness within our faith family amind the various trials and troubles, opportunities, and responsibilities of our individual stories. And while we tend to bemoan the heaviness, shake off the weight, and ignore the burden that would drag us down, there is something else happening under the weight if we will let it. The weight I, and most of you, am feeling is not a sinking weight, pulling us down into despair or apathy, but rather a weight that draws us deeper into the heart of God.

What we will discover under the weight--that is if we aren't blinded by complaint, busied by solutions, or distracted by addictions--is the heart and healing of our heavenly Father. Or, as Psalm 34:18 puts it, 

"If your heart is broken, you'll find God right there; 
if you're kicked in the gut, he'll help you catch your breath." 

When we follow Jesus, we follow him into the depths of real life. All the muck, all the mundanity, all the fragility, all the physicality, the money, the emotions, the relationships, etc. And in those depths, we discover things that are awful and painful, and we discover something that transcends it all: the compassionate heart of a Father, and the healing Spirit of a Savior. 

May we let the weight draw us into the depths from which new creation arise. God bless.

A Unique Gift

Dear Faith Family, 

Do you have an idea, image, or phrase from Scripture that you find yourself circling back to more for its obscurity than its clarity? You know, a saying or story that sticks out because it's brief and a bit odd, though you are sure there is more to it than meets the eye? And, every once a while, something you are reading, watching, or thinking about reminds you of that little enigma, and you find yourself pondering it again--even if only for a moment or two?

Well,  I found myself pondering once more Jesus' promise to give those who hold fast to faith in Him, the enigmatic "white stone, with a new name," from Revelation 2:17 the other day. The curious nature of this pocket-sized gift is that "no one knows [the name on the stone] except the one who receives it."  How mysterious & kind-of-exciting, don't you think?! 

Now, we've been learning the last few months through Galatians that we find ourselves under a steady barrage of marketed spiritual insights trying to get us to buy security, competency, and control in our life with God. Many of these insights seem plausible, some sincere, but all are relatively common due to their human-crafting. But here, in "the white stone, with a new name," Jesus offers us something truly unique, something we cannot buy nor which anyone could possibly say they know for us, a personal gift unwrapped through enduring faith. 

So what is this gift? Not specifically, of course, but descriptively? What is this unique, God-inscribed rock?

Well, I think George MacDonald describes the gift for those who hold fast to the name of Jesus amid the persistent opportunities to buy something else, best. And he does so in a manner that encourages you and me to persevere in our freedom so that we might unwrap and display what God has given! 

"The giving of the white stone with a new name is the communication of what God thinks about the man to the man. It is the divine judgment, the solemn holy doom of the righteous person, the 'Come, thou blessed,' spoken to the individual...

The true name is one which expresses the character, the nature, the meaning of the person who bears it. It is the woman's own symbol--her soul's picture in a word--the sign which belongs to her and to no one else. Who can give a man this, his own name? God alone. For no one but God sees what the man is, what the woman is...

God's name for a man must be the expression of God's own idea of the man, the being God had in His thought when he began to make the child, and whom God kept in His thought through the long process of creation that went to realize the idea. To tell the name is to seal the success--to say 'In thee also I am well pleased.' 

...each woman has her individual relation to God, but each woman [also] has here peculiar relation to God. She is to God a peculiar being, made after her own fashion, and that of no one else. Hence she can worship God as no woman else can worship Him. 

For each, God has a different response. With every man Jesus has a secret--the secret of a new name. In every man there is a loneliness, an inner chamber of peculiar life into which God only can enter. 

There is a chamber also (O God, humble and accept my speech)--a chamber in God Himself, into which none can enter but the one, the individual, the peculiar man or woman--out of which chamber that person has to bring revelation and strength for his or her brothers and sisters. This is that for which they were made--to reveal the secret things fo the Father." 

Praying this little enigma makes its way into your mind, heart, and life of faith this week--and circles back often! Love you. God bless. 

How I Talk To God

Dear Faith Family, 

We speak a lot of the "ordinariness" of our faith, by which we mean that even the most routine, often unnoticed aspect of our day can be an interaction with God who is here, sharing his life with us. From "interruptions and mental preoccupations that sometimes clutter our days," to planned moments, to-do lists, and daily commutes (when still did that!), there can be an open exchange with God who spoke first and gifted us his Spirit to cry 'Abba! Father!' 

What makes the ordinary an interaction with God, the mechanism of "can be," is prayer: the open exchange we have with God who is here. George Herbert called this exchange 'Heaven in ordinarie,' the blessed in the noticed specifics of routine.

Maybe the idea of praying as you go, 'without ceasing,' seems more of an ideal than actually achievable, or maybe prayer is too defined, reduced to a formal action rather than a passing awareness. If that is you, as it is me at times, I want to offer you a simple, practical poem on the conversational nature of prayer that undergirds our ordinary faith. A poem that we can all identify with, and because of that, a poem that I hope will encourage you too to write down and remember those moments in recent past, today, this week, when the everyday was "opened to the eternal."

HOW I TALK TO GOD | Kelly Belmonte

Coffee in one hand
leaning in to share, listen:
How I talk to God.

'Momma, you're special.'
Three-year-old touches my cheek.
How God talks to me. 

While driving I make
lists: done, do, hope, love, hate, try.
How I talk to God. 

Above the highway
hawk: high, alone, free, focused.
How God talks to me. 

Rash, impetuous
chatter, followed by silence;
How I talk to God. 

First, second, third, fourth
chance to hear, then another:
How God talks to me. 

Fetal position
under flannel sheets, weeping
How I talk to God.

Moonlight on pillow
tending to my open wounds
How God talks to me.

Pulling from my heap
of words, the ones that mean yes:
How I talk to God.

Infinite connects
with finite, without words:
How God talks to me. 

Just Breathe

Dear Faith Family, 

When we began our journey into Galatians, I said that Paul's letter was first and foremost a response to the gospel, to the good news that God is here and sharing his life with us. For Paul, the cross of Jesus was the focal point of this good news, the moment in history when the story of salvation converged with his own story,

"I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me." (2:20a)

"far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world." (6:14)

We are free because "the Lord Jesus Chrsit...gave himself for our sins to deliver us from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father." (1:4)  Paul won't let us get too far from this cosmos shifting event in his little letter. Every few sentences, it seems, there is yet another reminder of the means and manner of our free lives. While immersed in Galatians, it is nearly impossible to wander too far from the denouement of salvation history. Yet, the death and resurrection of Jesus as my own is rather too easily submerged under the routines and rigors of daily existence.

So, what can I do to be filled with "a spirit of wisdom and of revelation in [such] knowledge of [Jesus]"? Well, breathe.

Malcolm Guite reminds us of our faith family's old and cherished practice of letting the most natural and necessary physical process for living, reinvigorate our living faith:

"Contained in the pattern of our breathing is the whole story of our salvation. For a Christian in prayer, the very act of breathing can become a return to our birth: receiving of original life from the breath of God, as we breathe in with Adam in the garden of our beginnings; an offering of all that needs letting go and redeeming as we breathe out with Christ on the cross; a glad acceptance of new life in the Holy Spirit as we breathe in again receiving our life and commission afresh from the risen Lord." 

Breathe in--breathe out--breathe in again, and the story of salvation converges with our own. A process that can be repeated without preparation, wherever we find ourselves, and as often as needed to live.

Might we breathe in the good news today, and tomorrow, and as long as there is breath in our lungs, finding that "the life we live now in the flesh we live by faith in the Son of God, who loved us and gave himself for us." (2:20b)