Praying for "the secret"

Dear Faith Family,

I hope this email finds you well and rested after an extended weekend! Know that I am praying for grace and peace to be multiplied to you today, wherever and in whatever you find yourself.

I know there is much going on in our little faith family. Grand and joyous things! New opportunities and new seasons dawning refreshed aspirations for the future. There are also difficult things: loss, sickness, uncertainty in our lives and the lives of those dearest to us. We have, rather consistently it seems, the chance to "rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn" (Rom. 12:15), simultaneously.

It is the simultaneous expectation of this life together that is most difficult for us. At least it is for me. If I could separate the two, schedule them perhaps into specific blocks of focus, I think I might be able to manage. But life never seems to allow for such division. There is always both rejoicing and mourning, sometimes by the same person!

I'm sure you have experienced this duality yourself? So how do we not find ourselves emotionally, mentally, and spiritually frayed and fatigued by the oscillating? To not be pulled apart by the opposing force of these apparent opposites, which are called to enter because that is how life is really experienced, requires strength beyond our own. And it is the discovery of this not-us-but-in-us strength that is, in the words of the apostle Paul, "the secret to facing plenty and hunger," learning "how to be brought low...and...to abound." (Phil. 4:12).

The funny thing about this secret, though sadly funny, is that it is not so much a secret these days, but instead, a cliche often advertised on T-shirts or mugs or even the 'eye-black' of athletes. I know you know you know it! The not-so-secret-secret is the now-famous Philippians 4:13, "I can do all things through him who strengths me."

While the over-production and occasional misappropriation of Pau's "learned secret" mean it may fall flat on ears amid the push and pull of daily life with others, the amazing truth of something-in-us-but-not-us never dulls. Through Jesus, "Christ in you" (Col. 1:27), you have all that you need, and not just for ourselves but also one another.

Our fellow apprentice, the apostle Peter, affirms this not-so-secret-secret, contending, that "Jesus' divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness...so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature" (2 Pet. 1:3-4). Because you can face the complex reality of life--for yourself and for others--through Jesus, Peter writes his second letter. He longs for, and assumes, that we can experience the fruitful effectiveness of Christ in us (2 Pet. 1:8).

I pray Peter's acquired desire would come to fruition in you and for us. I love you, faith family.

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope."
(Rom. 15:13)

Open to the Normal

Dear Faith Family,

Each Sunday for the past five Sundays, we've responded to a time of focused attention on Jesus through song and scripture by sharing a meal. Each week extending our worship in the enjoyment of food and friendship.

It will be strange not to do so again this Sunday! But that's kind of the point. What we have experienced over this past month is, I believe, meant to be the norm: sharing meals in the company of friends...including Jesus!

What we observed in the stories of Jesus "eating and drinking" with any and everyone was nothing less than the welcome of God. God at the table with us, demonstrating his compassion for us over a simple supper. Jesus' "mission" to seek and save, free and restore, and see his Father's kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven, culminating around this common space and daily necessity.

It's quite genius, really. Jesus choosing to embody God's kingdom in such an ordinary space and activity meant we'd naturally find ourselves with the opportunity to do the same. After all, everyone has to eat! And, if, like Jesus, we are open to the welcome of the Father, willing to open our lives/tables to others, and prayerfully aware of their openness as well, we too might experience the abundance in such simplicity.

My prayer for us, faith family, is that not regularly sharing a meal with friends...and Jesus, would continue to feel strange! And that we (and our neighbors) would find in our openness to this normal practice, the transforming nearness of God here, right now.

Love you, faith family! God bless.


P.S.
While we don't have the resources for a weekly meal for the entire faith family, we will get back into the habit of sharing a collective lunch at least once a month! The next will be either the 19th or 26th of this month. More details as we get closer!

One Thing Necessary

Dear Faith Family,

Showing hospitality can be overwhelming. Especially the holistic "love of stranger" conveyed in our scriptures and brought to life in the story of that famous Samaritan's heart and actions on Jericho's road. Certainly, welcoming others into home and relationship is exacting, demanding the use of our skills, attention, and resources.

Perhaps that's why the story has carried so much power over the centuries--within and outside of our faith. Jesus' parable pulls no punches. He portrays the cost of true neighborliness, of a genuine love of stranger. The good Samaritan's image has become an ideal that insists on modeling. To offer anything less is to be a loveless passer-by. And none of us wants to be accused of such self-absorption.

Maybe that is why Martha is "anxious and troubled about many things" (Lk. 10:41). Like many of us, she doesn't want to fall short of the ideal. She's counted the cost, actually outlined all the many things required to truly welcome others into home and life, and she is "over-occupied" with the good work. So "distracted by much serving" is Martha, that she is frustrated when those closest to her are not responding with the same effort: "my sister has left me to serve alone...Tell her then [Jesus] to help me." (Lk. 10:40).

Martha's story, which directly follows the Samaritan's, is especially timely for our cultural moment. A constant wrestle for the past eighteen months has been the cost of "love of stranger." Asking ourselves and one another, "how can we be good neighbors?" Truly desiring to know, "How can we truly welcome others amid physical risks and social/political division?" The cost is continuously being counted, the details of service (seemingly daily) are weighed and measured.

It's no wonder that, like Martha, many of us--if we are honest--are "anxious and troubled about many things." And no wonder we are easily aggravated by those closest to us not falling in step with our expectations. Can you identify with Martha? Her genuine desire to "love her neighbor as herself," her striving to ask, answer, and act upon that ideal, and her annoyance when the effort isolates. I know I certainly can.

Because I can easily see myself and ethos of today in Martha and her story, I am especially grateful for Jesus' response. 

"Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but only one thing is necessary." 
(Luke 10:41-42a) 

Jesus is not scolding Martha; rather, he is compassionately pointing out what is true in her and for her. 

Jesus knows her, what she is after, and the struggles she is experiencing in her efforts to live out her good desires. He also knows what she needs to see them fulfilled. She needs the "one thing" necessary, the "good portion" her sister had chosen. And what did Mary chose? To abide. To stop serving and sit at the feet of Jesus and receive what he offers. 

What is true of Martha is true of you and me at this moment. Jesus sees us, and in many ways, is compassionately pointing out what is true in us and for us. He knows our desire and our struggles. And, he knows the one thing we need to get what we are after.

Martha's story concludes--as many of the Jesus stories do--without a resolution. Will Martha chose the "good portion"? Will she abide, rest herself at Jesus' feet and receive what he offers? To do so would require her to stop her "much serving" for a while, to give up her vision of the ideal. Will she do it? Will we? 

Praying that you and I will choose "the good portion, which will not be taken away" (Lk. 10:42b). That we will be willing to stop, to rest, and to receive. And, that we will discover that such abiding is the source of what we desire (Jn. 15:1-17). 

Love you, faith family! May our "love of stranger" be in the joy and peace of Jesus.  God bless. 

Life's Aim

Dear Faith Family,

I can't seem to get away from our spiritual companion's challenge!

When our family makes the annual trek to Colorado, I purposely leave "study" material in Texas. The point of the trip is to be together as a family in a space where we cannot help but be aware of and enjoy the goodness and grandeur of God--in one another and in his creation. While the return week's sermon might suffer for this (I apologize in advance!), my soul returns refreshed, even if it grieves for the cooler temps!

While "work" reading remains on my desk, I nevertheless take a volume or two every year that aid the intended reflection and enjoyment that alpine vistas evoke. A good book with a warm cup of coffee on a chilly mountain morning is a holy experience!

A few days into the trip, I noticed that every other page of my chosen titles contained an editorial marking. A scribbled comment or reference to Peter's letters in my handwriting! Neither composition had anything directly to say about this spiritual friend's commentary on life in Jesus. There was no explicit mention of Jesus' vocal, fumbling, courageous, and humbled disciple. Yet, there he was, Peter, continuing to challenge me in the sacred space of our family vacation.

Among the various insights and connections jotted and deepened in the margins, one stood out profusely: holiness. Peter used the word at least nine times in his first letter, most memorably in his opening chapter:

"As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who has called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct..." 
(1 Peter 1:14-15) 

Admittedly, Peter's charge to holiness has been a matter of--usually, but not always positive--tension for me throughout my life of faith. I hear his words often when confronted by interior or exterior forces to make a choice. A moral choice to do or not to do something, as well as practical choices for how to use time, energy, and resources. I don't always make the "right" choice, but our spiritual companion's exhortation is rarely absent in the tension. 

While the tug of holiness is consistently there--whether heeded or not--I tend to reduce holiness to doing what is right. Do you land here too? Perhaps, like me, you also get too caught up in the "all your conduct" part of Peter's charge, too quickly narrowing the focus on our actions and attitudes.

Certainly, Peter has our real, daily living in mind in his exhortation to holiness. As one translation phrases it, "Don’t lazily slip back into those old grooves of evil, doing just what you feel like doing." The gospel is no excuse for "sloppy living," warns our spiritual friend.  

Yet what struck me atop God's majestic creation this past week was the source of my holiness. 

"as he who has called you is holy, you also be holy...since it is written, 'You shall be holy, for I am holy.'" 
(1 Peter 1:15-16)

The source of holiness is not my conduct, though inevitably holiness (or lack thereof) manifests in actions and attitude. No, the source of holiness is in relationship...to the Holy One.

What if that tug towards holiness is not so much a pull towards doing something right, but a pull from God into life with him.  A tug into "life shaped by God's life," not in theory but the daily practicals. What if Peter is exhorting us not with morality (do and think the right things) but rather with reality? The reality that God is with us, and for us--making us "holy" by his presence. 

And what if the aim of our life is to live into the fullness of this reality? Not perfectly in a purely ethical or faultless sense--we know unequivocally that we struggle not just with sin but with mistakes, even the "holiest" of us. Instead, what if the aim of life is to live wholly responsive to the presence of God with us, God for us, and God at work all around us. What if our Father's directive to "be holy, for I am holy," is not a call to a reductionist vision of perfectionism but a "life energetic and blazing."? A decree to share His life? 

As Peter elaborates throughout his letters, such a life is certainly distinct in our daily functions. And while the distinction manifests most often in backward actions and attitudes (that posture of submission, service, and suffering), its source is presence. Life lived in the Presence. A holy life. 

The early church had a name for people living fully (completely or perfectly) in the presence of God: saints. These women and men could not be described without reference to their relationship to our Father. People present to the Presence with them and at work in those around them. I think "saint" is a name worth making our life’s aim. And as a true friend and spiritual companion, Peter challenges, encourages, and equips me to be a saint, to be holy because God is with me, and for me, and at work all around me. 

Praying that you would aim to be a saint. And that as our aim manifests and matures in our vocations, offices, homes, and neighborhoods, that the grace brought to us through Jesus would draw others into a holy life too. 

Love you, faith family! May grace and peace be multiplied to you this week. God bless. 

Unanxious Urgency

Dear Faith Family,

Peter's two letters are a constant source of challenge for me. Chaz set us on course through the first letter earlier this summer, and we'll find our way into the second letter in the Fall.

Each time I read them, I am reminded that the author walked with Jesus in the flesh as "an apostle of Jesus Christ...a witness to the sufferings of Christ" (1 Peter 1:1, 5:1). Knowing what we do of Peter's life, we know that he followed Jesus, showing faith, utterly failing, and empowered in his commission for service only after an up and down apprenticeship. And so, Peter writes to women and men like us, ones "who have obtained a faith of equal standing," from a place of true companionship as "a fellow elder" under the care of "the Chief Shepherd" (2 Peter 1:1, 1 Peter 5:1,4).

Peter is very much like us, even in his very much trying to be like Jesus. Each time I reread his letters, his empathy grows clearer. Perhaps this is why his letters challenge me so. There is no pretense or air superiority, only one in awe of Jesus' person, power, and grace, writing to his "beloved" as a true spiritual friend who is accompanying them on the long journey home to the Father.

I believe Peter desired his first-century faith family to receive his words in such a way, as from a spiritual companion, rather than "the pillar of the church"...

Certainly, Peter was "the rock," but what he learned from a life with Jesus and how he writes to his fellow apprentices reveals one clothed with humility.  And so, I cannot help but read Peter's letters as written from one spiritual friend (albeit a much wiser one) to another. And from such a vantage, I find it hard to dismiss my friend's exhortations in the life of faith. 

For example, one characteristic our spiritual companion Peter admonishes in us is urgency. His consistent appeal to "the end of all things" and constant imploring to prepare "for action" and to "arm yourselves" leaves us in little doubt that our daily journey is through terrain where "war against your soul" is waged. And yet, missing in our friend's letter is any sense of panic.

Peter is urgent but not anxious. He recognizes the immediate and eternal current he is caught up in but is not scrambling amid the turbulent waters. Instead, he assumes peace in abundance!

"May grace and peace be multiplied to you...Peace to all of you who are in Christ." 
(1 Peter 1:2, 5:14) 

Peter's unanxious urgency challenges me. On the one hand, his passion challenges my apathy. If I'm honest, I'm prone less toward zeal than I am toward atrophy. Like Peter, I recognize the stream of history, but unlike Peter, such knowledge does not always heat up my daily activities. Rather, the temperature cools in my self-assurance of the situation. Peter's action-oriented urgency challenges my stoic realism, encouraging me that the reality of Jesus' rule and opposition to it is means everything (relationship & responsibility) takes place on the precipice of eternity! How can I be anything but urgent under these conditions? 

On the other hand, Peter's lack of panic and unanxiousness challenge my tendency to grasp for control amid the chaotic currents. Peter neither underestimates the immediate and eternal importance of each day's breath nor does he overestimate his role within it. Somehow in his life with Jesus, Peter has learned to act with conviction and purpose within his limits. He recognizes not only what he is caught up in, but also who is doing the catching. 

Peter knows what's at stake, for himself and others, in each day's dealings in this world, and so he enters life with urgency about him. He also knows that he neither started nor finishes the great story he is immersed in, but he knows the One who did and does! And so he enters every day at peace, passionate to play his part, and for you and me to do the same. 

This is just one example of how our spiritual companion Peter challenges me in my life of faith in Jesus. He has proven to be a true friend, encouraging and equipping me to listen and respond to our Father through the Spirit. I pray he'll be the same for you.

So then, might I encourage you in this month between Peter's letters to re-enter them? Remembering that they are words from a spiritual companion. Allowing them to challenge you and us as good, wise words from a friend in Jesus should. 

Love you, faith family! May grace and peace be multiplied to you this week. God bless. 

Sharing What We Have

Dear Faith Family,

Several weeks ago, I invited you to join me in an extended epiphany. A drawn-out "aw-ha moment" of noticing what's been latent in our understanding of purpose in God's kingdom becoming more vivid in our imagination and more tangible in our daily life.  And today marks the final ascent of our epiphanic journey! 

If you're new to these notes or just now jumping into the conversation, I encourage you to go back to the start before continuing forward. While what's ahead might be helpful, it will be much more so if you begin from the outset. For those choosing to share in our collective moment at another time, know you are cherished and that I am praying our Father's blessings over you this week!  

Now, if you're still with me, we need to take one last look at Jesus' familiar charge echoing through an unfamiliar frame: 

Now that I've put you on a hilltop, on a light stand--shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you'll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.
(Matthew 5:16) 

I have to confess something. I am guilty of thinking (and living like) a life of generally “good works” is the “shining” that Jesus is after in this verse. I often fall prey to the thought that if I can just do enough good, be good enough, people will want to know why and will surely come to acknowledge the goodness of God. I know my thinking is a bit naïve, but honestly, it's where I get hung up in the more familiar translation of Jesus' exhortation, “let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.” I take good works, and their visibility, as the main thing.

Do you ever get caught up in this observable aspect of Jesus’ appeal? Focused on making sure your goodness is seen, shining before others so that people will give God credit for it?

I think this is where the motivation to “Thank God” while the spotlight is on us springs from; at least, it does for me. Admittedly, it is usually at the moment of success or triumph—whether physically, vocationally, morally, or otherwise—when the “glory sharing” kicks in. While giving God his just due is never a bad thing, what’s come to the forefront in our journey is that my way of thinking has a couple of issues. 

First, let's be honest, no matter how much “good” shines forth in my actions, if you enter my house, it won’t be long before you see the “not good” too. For nearly every moment of success or triumph, there is often a moment of failure and defeat. For example, no matter how many moments I have of gracious and patient response to my children, there are still moments of frustrated impatience. In other words, the credit God gets for my daily actions is liable to be a mixed bag!

Second, there is no denying that there are many truly “good works” done by those who have no intention of giving God the glory. Good works that often out-do our own. It's not like Christians have the market on "good works," which makes total sense when we think about it.

Remember last week we discovered that the observable “good works” Jesus encourages would have been imaged as holistic hospitality by Jesus’ listeners. A "love of stranger" has always been necessary for both the survival and thriving of humanity. This is why cultures across the globe then and now champion hospitality as an indispensable, actionable value, and why you don't have to look too hard to find examples of "good works" everywhere. 

Yet Jesus assumed that our practice of being gracious and generous to guests would be distinct. Specifically, that our hospitality would "prompt people to open up with God." In other words, what Jesus assumes people will observe in our life together is not merely good works (they'll be there, of course) but God with us and for them. 

The light Jesus says we put forth when we “Keep open house, being generous with our lives…opening up to others” is not our “good works” but the hospitality of God towards us. Shining through our ordinary hospitality is the honoring welcome, sustaining intimacy, and restful safety we’ve received from our heavenly Father. What is seen is not a perfect life, but the perfect, present love of our Father for us through Jesus.

Jesus assumed that when welcoming people into our homes/lives, we are welcoming them into the presence of our Father, "this generous Father in heaven." The idea is not novel, but it is powerful. What Jesus expects and assumes will be effective “ministry” is simply that we'd share what we have received. 

I wonder, do our neighbors, friends, family experience our heavenly Father’s hospitality in our hospitality? When opening up to others (personally, as an individual/family, and as a faith family), are they prompted to be open with God? Do they feel the wholeness of his welcome through our welcome?

This is where our epiphany has lead, at least me anyway. Having been welcomed home by our Father, we extend that welcome to others--God with us and for them--by sharing what we've received. A rather straightforward revelation, but one that requires a regular reminder of what we have to share. I think this is why when Peter re-articulates Jesus' charge, he encases the "good works" of hospitality (1 Peter 4:9) explicitly in what we've received through Jesus, "love [that] covers a multitude of sins" (4:8) and unique gifts "of God's varied grace" (4:10-11). Peter saw reconciling love and Spirit-led speech and service as distinguishing Jesus’ hospitality, and ours as well. May it be so for us!

Onefinal encouragement as we conclude our extended meditation in Matthew 5:16. Spend some time reflecting on Jesus' expectation through Peter's re-articulation in his first letter (1 Peter 4:8-11), then let the questions above poke around your heart this week. Use them to invite the Holy Spirit to examen our life together so that we might be fully who Jesus assumes that we are: a city on a hill and lamps on a stand for the good of others and the glory of our Father. 

Love you, faith family! God bless. 

No, Really, How?

Dear Faith Family,

How's your "aw-ha moment" coming along? Have you begun to notice what's been latent in your understanding suddenly coming to the forefront and observable in daily living? Is Jesus' insistence to be seen living for others, for their good and God's glory, become more vivid in your imagination and more tangible in your daily life? 

I hope so! But don't worry if it's not, just yet. After all, if knowledge moved quickly into experience, what need would our faith lineage have for emphasizing so strongly, meditation (Gen. 24:63, Jos. 1:8, Ps. 1:2, 19:14, 119:15, 143:5, Prov. 4:20-22, Phil. 4:8...to name a few). With that said, I am praying with you that our Father's continuous generosity and effective placement are freeing us up a bit (more) to live confidently humble. 

Confident humility is where we left off last week, and before we pick things up again, let me remind those choosing to share our collective moment at another time how much you are loved and how grateful I am to follow Jesus with you! God bless my friends. 

Now, if you're still with me, we're almost there! Our epiphanic journey is winding down as we get to the heart of Jesus' familiar charge echoing through an unfamiliar frame: 

Now that I've put you on a hilltop, on a light stand--shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you'll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.
(Matthew 5:16) 

Last week we discovered that how we get in on the action is through confident humility. Confident because of what God has already done and is doing in our lives and the lives of those around us. Humble in a truly healthy sense, to paraphrase C.S. Lewis, "not thinking less of our selves, but thinking of our selves less."

And while confident humility is all we need to get in what God has made us to be, if your honest, that probably didn't satisfy your craving for how we do what God wants us to do--and what we desire to do as well. Did it? Confident humility is great and all, but it feels more like a disposition rather than an action. So it's okay to admit that last week's leg of the journey left you wanting more pragmatic specifics. I felt the same way! 

Like you, I'd prefer more details when it comes to the how question. While I think it's important that Jesus doesn't provide elaborate specifics here, it's just as important to recognize what he assumed his listeners would do with his open analogy. How they would have filled in the blanks of "how." 

When Jesus said, "let your light before others," or "By opening up to others," his first-century audience would have filled in that analogy with an assortment of ordinary and expected actions. For much of human history, including the days when Jesus spoke, and certainly, for the nomadic cultures from which the Jewish people sprang, there have been a collection of observable "good works" necessary for any family, group, or society to exist and prosper. These essential actions can be summed up with the word: hospitality. 

The Greek word for hospitality, philoxenia, literally means "love of stranger." While the Hebrew language has no singular word for this love for others, we can see a holistic extending of care and friendship that being hospitable brings to mind in a few emblematic stories in Genesis. In practicing hospitality, one: 

• assumed the other had dignity by greeting with a bow or kiss (18:2, 19:1)

• opened up the home, the most intimate space (24:31)

• cultivated a place for rest (18:4)

• had a process of helping a person move from stranger to guest by washing feet (18:4, 19:2, 24:32)

• provide and shared a meal (18:7-8, 19:3, 24:33)

• fostered conversation (Gen. 24:33)

• provided a safe place (Gen. 19:8)

Add in the way the Mosaic Law guided the Israelites to treat neighbor, the needy, and the outsider, in caring for them and especially by welcoming them into the feast and festivals (Deut. 16:11,14) and providing for cities of refuge (Deut. 19:1-13), and it's easy to see why hospitality is the foundational act of any social group. Without hospitality, you end up with either a self-protective, segregated community or a self-centered autonomous one. And both reduced the likelihood of enduring (much less flourishing), for everyone found themselves at some point in the place "stranger," in need of hospitality.

"Love of stranger" has always been necessary for both surviving and thriving. This is why being gracious and generous to guests was not a unique feature to the Israelite people. Cultures across the globe then and now have championed hospitality as an indispensable, actionable value. Yet Jesus assumed that the way we practice hospitality would be somewhat different, "prompting people to open up with God." But I think we've gone far enough today.

For now, we'll have to satisfy our appetite for "how" by considering how hospitable our daily living really is. How are we honoring and welcoming, cultivating rest and safety, for our neighbors, the needy, and the outsider?

Reflect over the Genesis description of hospitality above, and let the question of how hospitable we are poke around your heart this week. Use them to invite the Holy Spirit to examen your daily encounters and routines.

Note that there is an assumption of ready availability in the Genesis stories of "opening up to others." It's like hospitality is the natural response to people in need. What is our culture's natural response to people in need? Consider your encounters with co-workers, family, roommates, friends, neighbors, and strangers, especially when they are in need--physically, spiritually, emotionally, relationally. Where do they see your "open house" and generous life, and in what ways do they encounter something inhospitable? 

There's still one more turn to take, and we will. But Jesus assumes that before we get there, we'll be considering how hospitality matters. May it be so for us this week. 

Love you, faith family! God bless. 

How Exactly?

Dear Faith Family,

We are now several weeks into a shared aw-ha moment, one of those experiences when what's been there all along in knowledge and faith becomes vivid and tangible in daily life. Our collective light bulb flipping on by an unfamiliar reading of a familiar text. 

Now that I've put you on a hilltop, on a light stand--shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you'll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.
(Matthew 5:16) 

For those joining me in this epiphany, we still have a few bends and turns before we reach our conclusion. But, before we go any further, let me provide those who are not in for this particular journey a chance to step off the trail for now. While I'd love for you to continue with us, I pray you'll find your way back here another time, knowing how much you are loved and how much I yearn for you to be filled with the fullness of God.

Alright, for those still with me, how's the discovery going so far? As we've meandered through the text, meditating on our life's grounding in the actions of "this generous Father in heaven," allowing Jesus' assumption that our tomorrow is today to examen our ambitions and anxieties, what's stood out to you? What has the Spirit revealed to you about how you are living?

We always get to the “how,” don’t we. The natural flow of our verse also happens to lead us here too. How we're to live as salt, a city, and light. What we're supposed to do in this place God's put us. Jesus offers us a rather succinct description, saying, "Keep open house, be generous with your lives."

This "how" question often consumes and overwhelms us Jesus followers. How do we live out our calling, purpose, faith? How do we do what God wants us to do? Whether in career, in home, in neighborhood, or in community, "How-To's" continue to be the best sellers among us Christians. How many do you own? I've got more than a few!

Whether you're a reader, a podcaster, or a program/bible study junkie, it seems many of us want to figure out how to "let our light shine before others," which is a good thing. And it's undoubtedly helpful to learn from the way others have done the same. Still, at least for me, there is a problem. It's not so much the means and methods (though honestly, sometimes it is!) but rather the excuses such examples foster.

Learning others' "how" can be inspiring, for sure. But, if I am honest, they can also distract me. I tend to walk away with things to do before doing the thing I am "supposed" to be doing. The thing I picked up the how-to for in the first place. Whether that before-thing is rearranging my schedule, figuring out what I'm passionate about, finding myself a quiet space to reflect, or following a step-by-step guide, I find myself with plenty to do before doing much of anything and also a bit exhausted. Have you ever experienced something similar?

Now don't get me wrong, a life of faith takes schedules, passions, contemplation, and planning seriously. Faith's first supplement, says Peter, is "excellence" (2 Peter 1:5). The problem is, we (at least I) start there, whereas Jesus assumes our actions have a different origin.

Hopefully, by this point in our journey, you've discovered along with me that before we get to what we do, Jesus assumes we know (and experience) what God is doing. Before we get in on the action, Jesus assumes we know (and experience) who and where we are is because God is acting generously, placing us at the peak of existence for the joy of all the earth. So, how we live out our purpose, how we do what God wants us to do, does indeed have a before; it's just God who is doing the before, not you or me or us. And this makes all the difference in the world, literally!

Think about what Jesus is implying. Our purpose in this together life with him--our mission as the church--is not achieved through sophisticated strategy, a fully-trained, organized, and fluent preparedness, nor any particular event, program, or ministry, as useful as these may be. Rather, how we get in on the action--God's action--is through confident humility.

I don't know about you, but keeping an open house cultivates self-assurance. Knowing people will come into our home, see the details of our daily living, and probably make judgments about our preferences, convictions, cleanliness, prosperity, etc., means we have to rest in something more foundational, more sure than whatever we can show off. To "Keep open house," continuously making room in our individual lives and our faith family for others, means we are not bound by petty and plaguing shames and prejudices. Instead, we are confident in who we are and are meant to be because of who God is and what he has done is doing.

And, we are humble because of our confidence. Because our confidence does not come from something so fragile and fleeting as our ego or actions, we can live generously. We live off and out of what God has given. As C.S. Lewis so aptly stated, it is humility that allows us to live a healthy others-oriented life, for "True humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less."

So, how are we living? Confidently humble? Does our life demonstrate confidence, unashamed to invite others into our lives personally, as well as into our faith family's life together? Do we live humbly, neither self-diminishing nor self-absorbed?

Let these questions poke around your heart this week. Use them to invite the Holy Spirit to examen your daily interchanges and habits. Think about what things you do regularly and what things you'd like to do that you don't. Note what drives you to do or not to do. Consider your interactions with co-workers, family, roommates, friends, neighbors, and strangers. Note your emotions and reactions to situations, whether positive or difficult, mundane or out-of-the-ordinary. Where do you see confident humility in your relationships, and where is there fear, shame, timidity, arrogance, or self-centeredness?

There's still a little more to get into in our verse, and we will. But Jesus assumes that before we get there, we'll have to rest in God's before. May it be so for us this week.

Love you, faith family! God bless.

Where Are We Now?

Dear Faith Family,

Last week, I invited you into an epiphany moment I'm having. One of those (sometimes drawn-out) moments where what you know--what's latent in your understanding, beliefs, faith--suddenly comes to the forefront and is observable in real life.

At least for me, such occurrences are often sparked by encountering the familiar in an unfamiliar way or an unexpected place. In this particular instance, the freshness was kicked started by this translation of one of Jesus' well-known statements,

Now that I've put you on a hilltop, on a light stand--shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you'll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.
(Matthew 5:16) 

At this point, let me offer again an invitation to continue with me into the depths of Jesus' insistence, as well as an opportunity to not! While I'd very much like for you to keep reading, if you don't, know that I love you, I am grateful for you, and I long with you to see your life lived whole and holy in Jesus! 

Now, if you're still with me, I assume you've meditated at least some on Jesus' assumption that daily we know and experience the generosity of our Father in heaven. Our Father's generosity, as Jesus said, comes in the midst, and often through, the trials and tribulations of daily living by faith, what Paul calls the "birth pangs" of the Kingdom on earth as it is in heaven.

Hopefully, the Spirit has both encouraged and challenged you (as he has me) to understand that our existence is built on and lived out of God's generosity--amid every difficulty and goodness. If that's so, then the question becomes, where do we go from there? 

The answer is nowhere! Or rather, we're already there. Notice the location (and how we've got there) of the opening line of the verse, "Now that I've put you on a hilltop, on a light stand..."  

Where are we, "Now"? On a hilltop and a lampstand. How did we get here? God put us here. Simple enough. However, if you are like me, I am often on the lookout for what's around the corner, the next thing in life and faith that will help me be or do what I desire. In other words, I'm often looking out for somewhere else. Do you ever catch yourself doing the same thing?

Now, if I'm honest, my rather persistent (and societally encouraged) surveying of the terrain often leaves me feeling that a full and fruitful life is "always a day away," in the ever-elusive "Tomorrow, tomorrow..."  (Fun aside, Lily's been singing those words for the last couple of months as she was in an abbreviated version of the musical Annie earlier this summer...and did awesomely!) 

Back to our epiphany! While hope always has a forward gaze, the tension within me that Jesus' words raise is that he assumes tomorrow is today. He's not on the lookout for what's next, but the fullness of what is. Without rehashing the intended symbolism of a hilltop city and lampstand, suffice it to say that Jesus assumes that right now we are where (geographically and relationally) true life, in all its goodness and beauty, can be known and shared.

Do you believe that? Do we believe that every day, as long as it's called "today," is lived at the peak of life, for the joy of all life? 

Jesus believed it was and assumed that we would too. So what keeps us from believing and thus knowing and sharing?  We'll need to answer that question if we want to keep going on our journey. 

So, let Jesus' assumption poke around your heart this week. Use it to invite the Holy Spirit to examen your ambitions and anxieties. Think about how often your mind wanders into "tomorrow" and how much of your resources (mentally, spiritually, emotionally, as well as financially) are spent there.  If Jesus assumes tomorrow is today, what here today am I missing out on with my love (or worry) for tomorrow? 

There's still more to get into in our verse, and we will. But Jesus assumes that right here is where we'll find it--to God's glory, our good, and the joy of all the earth (Ps. 48:1-2). May it be so for us this week. 

Love you, faith family! God bless. 

Whad'Ya Know?

Dear Faith Family,

There is an often-quoted appeal that has been bouncing around in my head as it makes its way into my heart and out into my life. I am sure you're familiar with these words of Jesus, 

In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven. 
(Matthew 5:16) 

These words have been all around me my entire life. They've been plastered on posters in Sunday-school rooms (remember those!), memorized in Bible-Drill, proclaimed from the pulpit, and printed on tee-shirts. From teachers to parents to preachers, Jesus'  insistence to be seen living for others, for their good and God's glory, has never been too far from my mind. Yet, there is something fresh about Jesus' charge that the Spirit doesn't want me to miss.  

I don't know about you, but sometimes hearing the familiar in an unfamiliar way opens me up to yet-plumbed depth. It's not that I discover something totally novel, a never-before-seen insight, but rather, what's been there all along becomes more vivid and tangible in my daily life.  

You've experienced these moments, right? Moments (sometimes draw out over days, weeks, or even a season of life) where what you know--what's latent in your understanding, beliefs, faith--suddenly comes to the forefront and is observable in real life. I think I'm in one of these moments. An epiphany springing forth from Jesus' familiar charge, and I'd like to invite you to share in it with me. 

All that's required is an openness to hear what Jesus says freshly and a willingness to ask a few questions. If you are up for that, keep reading. If not, no worries! But, before you stop reading, know I love you, I am grateful to follow Jesus alongside you, and I am praying our Father's blessing over you. 

Okay, if you're still with me, here is the unfamiliar wording of our familiar verse. Read it over a couple of times, then take a moment to let it sink in. 

Now that I've put you on a hilltop, on a light stand--shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you'll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.
(Matthew 5:16) 

There is a lot that jumps out (at least to me) in this translation. What jumped out to you? 

If you're like me, my eyes are drawn to the action, to what action I'm supposed to take, "Keep open house, be generous with your lives." But as the passage has bounced around in my brain, I've been drawn to a more foundational element undergirding all the action. And this is where I want you to focus as well. Listening not to what Jesus is charging us to do, but what Jesus assumes we know and experience regarding "this generous Father in heaven." 

Do you think of God as generous? I'm sure you'd say "Yes, of course," just as I would. But, being honest, when describing God our Father, how many words and phrases do you use before you get to "generous"? God's generosity is not always top-of-mind for us. But perhaps Jesus is encouraging us that it should be. 

Take a minute and look at the verses preceding our text, those famous "Beatitudes" in 5:2-10. What do you notice about how each verse ends? Don't they all end with our Father giving something? Our Father in heaven giving comfort, the earth (which is flourishing), satisfaction, mercy, clarity, longevity (a future), and inheritance. Nothing less than "the kingdom of heaven," which is to say, everything. 

Our Father truly is generous! At least Jesus knew him to be. Now here's where fill the rub. Do people see our Father's generosity in my daily living? Or ask it this way, "Do I live my life off of the generosity of our Father, out the abundance of the everything He gives?"

Let the questions poke around your heart this week. Use them to invite the Holy Spirit to examen your day. Think about how you talk to God and talk about him. Consider your interactions with co-workers, family, roommates, friends, neighbors, and strangers. Note your emotions and reactions to situations, whether positive or difficult, mundane or out-of-the-ordinary. Where do you see a reflection of his generosity, and where is scarcity felt? 

There's more to get into in our verse, and we will. But Jesus assumes that more comes because we know and experience "this generous Father in heaven." May it be so for us this week. 

Love you, faith family! God bless. 

Listening to See

Dear Faith Family,

Psalm 139 has been a favorite of ours for some time. Especially the concluding verses,

"Search me, O God, and know my heart!
Try me and know my cares.
And see if there be any grievous way
in me,
and lead me in the ancient way,
everlasting." 

We refer back to this psalm and these words over and over again in a variety of the practices we employ to help us develop the "skills in faith" in our apprenticeship to Jesus. It is for us an entrance into silence and solitude, refreshing reflection amid our fasting, and, most centrally, an examen to ground and grow us in our core identity as God's children. Psalm 139 is truly a tremendous gift to our life of faith, aiding us in our relation to God, and his relationship to us, allowing us to rest in being completely known, utterly cherished, secure on our way to being more than we are today. And yet, there is more Psalm 139 has to offer! 

As much as this psalm reveals about me, it reveals the same about you. As intimate, active, and gracious God has been in my life, he has been just as intimate, active, and gracious in your life as well. Think about what that means for our life together. How we interact with one another, serve one another, love another. Even what we can expect from one another. 

In the words of one of my favorite pastors, Psalm 139 reminds us that "God has been at work with you since birth. Everything that has taken place in your life has in some way or another taken place in the context of a good creation and an intended salvation. Everything."

So when we talk, pray, study, celebrate, eat, worship, etc., with one another, we are doing so amid God's gracious operations and persistent will unfolding in the spectacular drama of redemption called your life. A drama the details of which we know little or nothing about!

Aren't we aware of this limited knowledge in our own lives? Don't we have a hard time recognizing the intimacy, activity, and graciousness of God in our story's past? Much less sure are we in the details of how God is working in our lives at any given moment! That's why we enter into Psalm 139 in the first place, isn't it?! 

So, if Psalm 139 speaks to the truth of our self-knowledge, why would we assume something different for our understanding of one another? 

Our shared awe at the marvelous mystery of God with us and God for us does not mean, however, that we do not play a part in His-story emerging in each others' daily experiences. It just means that "My words and gestures and actions," if they are to honor the reality revealed in Psalm 139, are meant to join in with what God is already doing in your life. 

This means that we love and serve one another in this life of faith by listening to see. Listening to one another to see how God's intimacy, action, and graciousness are being worked out, how he is leading them "in the way everlasting." Listening to God on behalf of one another, to see for what role we might play in his spectacular drama unfolding--what prayer to pray, what word to speak, what act to offer...or none at all. 

Our role in one another's lives of faith is not to mold each other into some prefabricated image, nor fix one another or our problems, or even primarily to guide or comfort one another. If we are to help one another in this life of faith, truly, we have to listen to see what God is up to and listen to see how we can join with him. 

Admittedly, our first reaction is usually to speak or act rather than wait with open ears. Good thing Julian of Norwich, the 14th-century anchoress, provided a helpful eye exercise to keep us listening to see. She commented that when interacting with her fellow apprentices and pilgrims, 

“I look at God, I look at you, and I keep looking at God.”

I wonder if we might employ her exercise with Psalm 139 as a simple prayer for our interactions with one another.

• "look at God," praying; Father, let me see you with us and for us, in our past and in your presence.

• "look at you," praying; Holy Spirit, let me see your searching and leading in my friend's life.

• "keep looking at God," praying; Jesus, let me see how I can join your way for their good.

I encourage you to start building the skill in faith of listening with your eyes this week. Perhaps over coffee with a friend, during a DNA  or GC get-together, or at the dinner table with your spouse, child, or roommate. They don't even have to know your practicing, though it can be helpful for you both if they do!

My prayer is that listening to see will become second nature for our faith family. That we will enter into the marvelous reality of Psalm 139, seeing that God has and is with you, listening to see in what particular ways God's gracious operations and persistent will are unfolding, and listening to see if and what we should speak or do. 

Love you, faith family. God bless! 

Believing Thomas

Dear Faith Family,

The story of the apostle named Thomas is one of the more intriguing relations to Jesus, at least for me. Thomas was one of the twelve, those first apprentices whom Jesus chose to invite to be with him and sent out to live like him (Mk. 3:13-19). That puts him in pretty special company. But as we know, just because you are included in the number doesn't mean you really get what it is you are a part of. Judas being the prime example.

And so, while Thomas was purposely picked, sought out by Jesus to follow him, his fame throughout the centuries has less to do with who desired his company and more to do with his doubting. Thomas's name is evoked not in line with the likes of Peter or James or John, but rather, along the lines of Judas. To be a "doubting Thomas" is just a slight notch above being a "Judas," one rung away from falling off the ladder of faith. 

But that's not exactly the image of Thomas our scriptures paint. Oh sure, Thomas doubted, and passionately did so! But his doubt was not a product of faithlessness but evidence of his deep affection and his willingness to be vulnerable. 

In John's account of his fellow apprentices, we see that while all the other eleven tried to keep Jesus from taking the road to Jerusalem, a path they didn't want to follow because it would surely lead to his death (11:8), Thomas spoke something different. Thomas got a glimpse of where Jesus was going, as one walking in the light of day (11:9), and knew that's the way he needed to go, even if not everyone saw it the same.

Calling friends and companions into something different, especially something difficult, is no easy thing. You are exposed in settings such as this, and that exposure requires courage, conviction, and, I'd argue, love. And so, from a love of Jesus and his fellow pilgrims, Thomas said, "Let us also go," don't try and change Jesus' path, follow it, with the clear-eyed expectation of what lies before us if we do, "that we may die with him" (11:16).

All Thomas needed was a glimpse of where Jesus was going for him to follow. Yet he wasn't a naïve tag along. Thomas was a man of conviction who counted the cost of following Jesus, and was willing to pay it. And yet, like all of us, the path Jesus leads us doesn't always play out as we expect it to. 

Throughout their journey together, Jesus had been teaching, preaching, and demonstrating the returning presence of God the Father, God's kingdom on earth and among his people as it once was, but even better and bigger. It was this message that God's kingdom was near and here that compelled Thomas to come to Jesus in the first place. Having heard and witnessed so many glimpses of God with us, Thomas was sure that what came next would be the final turn into the kingdom's fullness, especially as the next move of Jesus was to raise a week-dead friend (11:17-44). The crowd's reaction to Jesus as Thomas and his fellow apprentices followed Jesus into Jerusalem only heightened Thomas' expectation to see what he had longed hoped (12:12-19). 

Yet, Jesus kept telling Thomas that this path was preparation for their final destination, that Jesus would have to suffer what seemed like defeat to assure the desired goal of their journey (12:7,23-26, 27-36). Thomas was more than willing to give himself up for the sake of the kingdom--the life he desired with God for himself and others--, but the way of Jesus and the end to which he was leading didn't line up with Thomas' expectations. But isn't that the case for most of us if we are honest? 

Aren't we a lot like Thomas, passionate in our convictions, courageous in our affections, and confused along the journey with Jesus? But once again, Thomas' character shines through. During that final supper with his disciples, Jesus is once again telling them he is going somewhere, but this next portion, he'll have to travel alone (13:36). Following Thomas' lead, Peter speaks up, this time not trying to change Jesus' mind but wanting to know it, though not really knowing what he is asking (13:36-38).

Jesus' answers to where he is going ("my Father's house") and that "you know the way to where I am going." (14:2, 4)  are not satisfying to apprentices. They wanted more clarity, most specifics, (perhaps even) a different vision. So Thomas, once again, is vulnerable before Jesus and his fellow followers. "Thomas said to Jesus, 'Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?" (14:5) 

Thomas confesses his ignorance and confusion in this journey of faith with Jesus and others. It takes no small amount of humility to admit you don't know--especially in this group who was always jockeying for position, i.e., validation of their faith (see Lk. 22:24-30). Thomas admits that the image he glimpsed doesn't look like where they've arrived. 

Jesus' response (14:7) is typical of him, a gentle admonishment for opaque discernment ("If you had known me, you'd have known my Father") coupled with a gracious affirmation (From now on you do know him and have seen him."). Thomas' meekness and Jesus' mercy open the most formative dialogue with Jesus in our scriptures. And, for the first time, we hear from others in the company: Philip (14:8) and the other Judas (14:22). However, some were still too timid (or proud) to confess their poorness in spirit to the group (16:17-19). By the end of the conversation and shared prayer, Jesus' time had come (18-19). 

The events of the next few days must have been traumatic for Thomas and the other apprentices. Despite Jesus' words, compassion, and prayers, they were not ready for what came next. Who could be, really? All they could do was watch on as the very core of their hearts' desires were ridiculed, beaten, and crucified. The one whose affection called them and whom their affection now rested was dead. 

The wind was knocked out of the sails of Thomas' faith. Are we at all surprised by that? Passionately, humbly, courageously, vulnerably, he had followed Jesus alongside this hodgepodge of others who Jesus had chosen to journey with. And where did it lead? Not to where he expected. Certainly, this could not be the way Jesus had intended them to follow? Surely, this could not be the path to life as it is truly meant to be, at home with the Father? 

So, when Thomas hears from some of his companions that they've seen Jesus alive again (20:24), is there any wonder why he wants more than words and stories to hope again? Would someone else's testimony be enough for us? Wouldn't we want to see and touch the object of our faith too, before we could once again give all our heart, mind, soul, and strength? (20:25). 

I think many of us would respond like Thomas if we were honest enough to do so. If we were not trying to impress anyone. But what is most impressive to me about Thomas' response is not his (now thrice repeated) humble vulnerability amongst his fellow followers, but the inner courage and perseverance of faith to stick with them through his doubt. 

"Eight days later" (20:26), not in the day of doubt, not even the next day, but for over a week, Thomas remained with his fellow apprentices even when his faith appeared to falter. Would we stay with people in our hurt, confusion, doubt that long? Eight days of listening to stories of Jesus alive from others but not seeing Jesus ourselves? Eventually, Jesus does enter into Thomas' doubt and invites Thomas to receive what Thomas thinks he needs to reawaken his faith in the way and destination (20:27). Of course, Jesus' presence among his fellow apprentices was all Thomas needed to return to true form (20:28). 

If the story stopped here, I think we'd see Thomas differently, but it doesn't. And, it is my opinion that it is Jesus' response to Thomas' faith that causes us to misunderstand this apprentice and lumps Thomas in with Judas. "Jesus said to Thomas, 'Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.'" (20:29).

I don't think Jesus' statement is a rebuke of Thomas' lack of faith, but an encouragement of what was already and always there in Thomas. A faith that had been formed and proven along the journey with Jesus up to this point. Listen, Thomas is not in the room with the disciples if he had no faith and no affection, no hope and no trust, if he didn't believe even when he couldn't see.  

Jesus is pointing out that Thomas did believe even when he didn't see. Thomas' belief kept him in the company, even amid his exposure. Rather than admonishing a shallow faith, I believe Jesus is honoring a deep faith in Thomas. A faith that kept him on the journey with others--a humility and conviction that followed Jesus through difficulty and confusion and doubt when the path and the place were not so clear. The faith that believes following Jesus with others is the way home, even when we cannot see it. That is the faith that allowed Thomas' doubt (confusion and hurt and humility) to be met by Jesus' presence, and a faith I know I would count as an honor to say I share with Thomas, the believer. 

Along our journey with Jesus, like Thomas, we'll catch glimpses of where Jesus is going on the way he is taking us. And, like Thomas, we'll find that often our glimpses don't reveal the whole picture or at least the picture we expect. When that happens, like Thomas, will we have the depth of character and faith, the humility and conviction to stick with our fellow apprentices until our faith becomes sight? 

It's a question I encourage us to practice answering together as we journey home with Jesus. Until faith is needed no more, may we receive the blessing of those who have not seen clearly or fully and yet have believed. 

Love you, faith family. God bless. 

Bringing It Home

Dear Faith Family,

Jesus' final pastoral advice to us in the Revelation is the most honoring and ordinary of invitations. While much of the grandeur of Jesus and life with him in these seven letters are depicted in descriptions of heavenly places, royal attire, and divine endowments, Jesus' last proclamation brings us back to earth, to something we all have in common: a front door. 

"Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to them and eat with them, and they with me."
(Rev. 3:20) 

Though ever so brief in the Revelation, for the next verse has us once again in the heavenly realm, we find Jesus in the stuff of everyday life: behind our doors, all kinds of noises filling our homes as we prepare for dinner. And it is this normal stuff that Jesus says he is waiting to share life--his life--with us. 

I don't think Jesus' earthy image is an accident here at the end of his pastoral counsel. I think he has it here to encourage us to bring into our home (both figuratively and literally) what he has said through the Spirit to his churches throughout the letters. 

Bringing it home, opening the door to Jesus, has been the intention of our Lectio practices throughout this series. Whether you've worked your way through all seven or have yet to start, might I encourage you to keep using them this summer. 

Instead of moving on to the next thing, or, because of the summer schedule, doing no thing, let's continue opening the door to dine with Jesus on his words to his church. Allowing Jesus to pastor you/us until we experience in the everyday ordinary the blessing of ones "who hear and who keep what is written" (Rev. 1:3). 

Love you, faith family. God bless!

Kids & Crowds

Dear Faith Family,

On Sunday, Rebekah shared how analogous her children’s desire to always be around her was to our mantra of following Jesus. No matter where she found herself, her little ones are close by, whether simply enjoying her presence or imitating what she is doing or inviting her to join what they are doing. Wherever she goes, they go! 

It is no wonder that Jesus never turned away a child. In fact, he was quick to get on to his disciples for trying to keep the little ones at bay rather than following their lead (see Mark 10:13-16). The same unhindered attention and affirming emulation cannot be observed in Jesus' interaction with crowds. 

Oh sure, he loved people and gave much of his time and attention to sharing the good news that God was here and on their side, to healing them and feeding them. But he was just as prone to try and get away from them. To sneak off to a quiet place. To jump in a boat and try and escape their pressure. 

Both the children and the crowds were clamoring to be with Jesus. One was admitted without restraint; the other, though loved, was just as often avoided, dismissed, or escaped. Both come to Jesus for some blessing. To one "belongs the kingdom of God," to the other a mixed bag of met needs and dissatisfaction. So what's the difference?

Here is what I think. A child comes to her mother with inarticulable needs--presence, purpose/participation, play--and finds that her mother satisfies them with simple attention. The crowd, however, comes with very specific needs--illness, clarity, provision, etc.--and sometimes get what they are after, for Jesus cares for them. Sometimes though, they also get confused or angry or even left! 

Alan Fadling describes the crowds' issue this way, "They came for what they wanted from [Jesus]," as any of us do, but "They didn't come interested in what [Jesus] wanted for them..." 

Often, we know what we want from Jesus, but do we trust what he wants for us? Are we interested in finding out? 

The crowds, for the most part, were not that interested in finding out. And so, while sometimes they received what they were after because Jesus cared, for the most part, their following him found no lasting satisfaction. 

On the other hand, a child cannot articulate an interest in what her mother wants for her, but innately she trusts her mother's love. Because of that love, she also knows that in her mother's attention, she'll have all she needs. I suspect that's what Jesus wants for us, why he won't let a child be hindered from being with him, and why he says we'll have to "become like children" if we are really going to get the most out of this life following him (Matthew 18:1-4). 

Love you faith family. God bless. 

Do You Have at Least One Ear?

Dear Faith Family,

I love Jesus, for many reasons. Not the least of which being his ever-repeating invitation to live. Not just exist or get-by or even to figure it out, but to use my born faculties to really live.

The invitation that fills the Gospels and concludes each letter to the seven-churches goes like this: "He who has an ear, let him hear..." All you need, it seems, is one working ear! Not even the set! An ear to hear Jesus calling you into the life he's given for you to walk in. A new life, full and forever. 

As Dan challenged us on Sunday, we'll we listen? Will we throw off the distractions that keep us from hearing the powerful invitation of Jesus to live, really live? Will we use what God's given us to lead the lives God's calling us into? 

May Malcolm Guite's poem draw us into using our ears this week. Love you, faith family. God bless! 

How hard to hear the things I think I know, 
To peel aside the thin familiar film
That wraps and seals your secret just below: 
An undiscovered good, a hidden realm, 
A kingdom of reversal, where the poor 
Are rich in blessing and the tragic rich 
Still struggle, trapped in trappings at the door
They never opened, Life just out of reach ...

Open the door for me and take me there. 
Love, take my hand and lead me like the blind, 
Unbandage me, unwrap me from my fear, 
Open my eyes, my heart, my soul, my mind. 
I struggle with these grave clothes, this dark earth, 
But you are calling, 'Lazarus, come forth!' 

How long does it take to make the woods?

Dear Faith Family,

April is national poetry month, in case you didn't know! And so I wanted to share with you a poem from Wendel Berry. A poem about the rest of refining, which the narrowing of life to "the works" of Jesus inevitably brings about. A poem that is good company to the pastoral words of our Good Shepherd who is the gate, the way, the light, the beginning, and the end, and whose kingdom is always finished and forever being made.

May you rest in your refining as you find yourself "among the trees planted by streams of living water." 

How long does it take to make the woods? 
As long as it takes to make the world.
The wood is present as the world is, the presence
of all its past, and of all its time to come. 
It is always finished, it is always being made, the 
act of its making forever greater than the act of its destruction. 
It is a part of eternity, for its end and beginning
belong to the end and beginning of all things, 
the beginning lost in the end, the end in the beginning. 

What is the way to the woods, how do we go there? 
By climbing up through the six days' field, 
kept in all the body's years, the body's 
sorrow, weariness, and joy. By passing through 
the narrow gate on the far side of that field
where the pasture grass of the body's life gives way
to the high, original standing of the trees. 
By coming into the shadow, the shadow 
of the grace of the strait way's ending, 
the shadow of the mercy of light. 

Why must the gate be narrow? 
Because you cannot pass beyond it burdened. 
To come in among these trees you must leave behind
the six days' world, all of it, all of its plans and hopes. 
You must come without weapon or tool, alone, 
expecting nothing, remembering nothing, 
into the ease of sight, the brotherhood of eye and leaf. 

Love you, faith family! Praying our Father's blessing, the Spirit's filling, and the Son's calling over you this week.

Getting Older or Growing Up?

Dear Faith Family,

I read a quote this week about the difference between growing up and getting older. As you read the words below, listen. Listen for and discern the echoes and Spirit of those "seven letters" which have taken our attention lately. 

“Most people don’t grow up. It’s too damn difficult. What happens is most people get older. That’s the truth of it. They honor their credit cards, they find parking spaces, they marry, they have the nerve to have children, but they don’t grow up. Not really. They get older. But to grow up costs the earth, the earth. It means you take responsibility for the time you take up, for the space you occupy. It’s serious business. And you find out what it costs us to love and to lose, to dare and to fail. And maybe even more, to succeed."

— Maya Angelou

Growing up into who God has created us to be as uniquely named individuals and his collective priestly progeny is an exercise in finding "out what it cost us to love and to lose, to dare and to fail. And...to succeed." That's a pretty good summation of the message from Jesus to the churches, to our faith family.

Have we not recognized in these letters that Jesus' apprentices are learning the cost of loving him more than the ways and things of the world they inhabit? What it costs to lose and to fail and to dare to hold fast. And living together with Jesus through affirmation, admonition, and promise; learning also to succeed, to "conquer."

The journey from new birth to life forever grows us. We don't merely get older; we mature, we change. And this change happens as we "take responsibility for the time [we] take up, for the space [we] occupy," as "the church in Dallas."

Am I taking responsibility, or just doing "adult" things?

That's the question Angelou's quote and Jesus' address has me asking today, and praying that we would be ones who don't just grow older, but grow up.

I’ll leave you with one more quote to reflect on this week:

"beloved, since you are waiting...be diligent to be found by Jesus without spot or blemish, and at peace...grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be the glory both now and to the day of eternity. Amen."
(2 Peter 3:14,18)

Love you faith family! God bless.

After Easter

Dear Faith Family,

The days after a major holiday can feel a bit aimless. Especially if we've put a lot of energy into preparation and anticipation for the "big day." Think about how you feel after Christmas morning when all your Advent devotionals are spent. Rising in you is both a sense of accomplishment of what you've completed and a sense of uncertainty for what to do now. Granted, you might not consider this until the haze of overeating and overspending has begun to clear! 

While Easter may not have the same societal build-up (or overindulgence) as Christmas, it nevertheless has garnered much of our attention these last several weeks. For many Jesus followers, their participation in the Lenten season (including our faith family's invitation to weekly fasting) along with the focus of "holy week" with its Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday; means this week might lack the spirit and clarity of the weeks prior. And much like the days following Christmas morning, we are left wondering where to focus our energy now? 

Well, in the church calendar, the next "big day" is the Day of Ascension. Thirty-nine days after Easter morning (May 13th this year), the church recounts the day Jesus alive ascended from earth to the right hand of the throne of our Father (see Lk 24:50-53 & Acts 1:6-11). Between resurrection and ascension is nearly six weeks of Jesus alive again with his friends and followers, connecting the dots of his witness and his work to their lives in God's kingdom. And then, he was gone. Gone and yet never leaving nor forsaking those who now partner in his witness and his working still to come (see Matt. 28:16-20). 

This connects the dots from Jesus' life to our lives with Jesus alive again that becomes the Church's focus after Easter.  After Easter's joy comes everyday life with Jesus alive, ordinary life lived in the extraordinary power of our ascended King. 

Malcolm Guite's sonnet, Ascension Day, helps us make the after Easter transition. As you reflect on the ascension stories (especially in Acts), may Guite's words bring our focus onto the life we know live because Jesus lives. 

We saw his light break through the cloud of glory
Whilst we were rooted still in time and place, 
As earth became a part of heaven's story
And heaven opened to his human face. 
We saw him go and yet we were not parted, 
He took us with him to the heart of things, 
The heart that broke for all the broken-hearted
Is whole and heaven-centered now, and sings; 
Sings in the strength that rises out of weakness, 
Sings through the clouds that veil him from our sight, 
Whilst we ourselves become his clouds of witness
And sing the waning darkness into light; 
His light in us, and ours in him concealed, 
Which all creation waits to see revealed. 

Love you, faith family! Praying our Father's blessing, the Spirit's filling, and the Son's calling over you this week.

Something to Consider

Dear Faith Family,

In just a couple of days, hundreds of millions of people--including our faith family--will take part in traditions, celebrations, and worship all because Jesus died and is alive forevermore (Rev. 1:18, 2:8).

This "holy week" is filled with remembrances of Jesus' execution and resurrection, offering us the opportunity to meditate on the love of God poured out for us through Jesus (Jn. 3:16). God's love flooding our hearts through the Holy Spirit (Rom. 5:5).  

Of all the things this week we could consider (sin, life, death, power, sacrifice, joy, etc.), I encourage you, faith family, to consider love. To consider the love that compelled our Father to persistently and patiently endure our rebellion until the right time (Gal. 4:4). To consider the love that compelled Jesus to "take the form of a servant" (Phil. 2:7) and give his life so that we might live. To consider, with Paul and Timothy, what our lives would look like if we could say,

"For the love of Christ controls us, because we have concluded this: that one has died for all, therefore all have died; and he died for all, that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised."
(2 Cor. 5:14)

May you know God's love, and may God's love be known through you and us. This week, and forevermore. Through Jesus Christ, "the first and the last, and the living one."  Amen. 

Love you, faith family. Praying our Father's blessing over you and looking forward to worshiping with you Easter morning! 

A Run In At The Grocery Store

Dear Faith Family,

It's amazing how quickly our hearts can calcify even if we hunger and thirst for living rightly. This is especially true when the stressors and toil of daily living are heightened as they have been throughout this past year. Before we know it, we are ever on the defensive. Every word and everyone a threat to what we have earnestly worked to safeguard, whether at the macrolevel (freedom, justice, truth) or in the micro-relations (health, dignity, responsible choice). Our hearts harden even in our active, persistent endurance. And here is how we know it: by the way we respond to daily offenses. 

Take, for example, my interaction with a fellow shopper at our neighborhood grocery store last week. Having both wrapped up a quick stop, we got into our vehicles just a couple of spots apart. He pulled out first. I followed.

At the exit of the parking lot, he split the lanes. Not sure if he was going straight or turning right, I pulled up behind him on the far right side of the exit. To be fair, I was pretty close to his car. Not touching his car, but certainly closer than I should have been. I thought he was going to turn immediately, but he didn't. Instead, he turned around in his seat, threw up both middle fingers, and began to yell what I assume were a string of profanities that indicted my lack of neighborliness. And then he calmly drove away.

The driver was no ill-tempered youth. His flowing white beard and random assortment of bumper stickers led me to peg him as easily in his sixties. He seemed stable enough in the check-out line, and there was no odd behavior on our way to the parking lot. Certainly, my encroachment into his personal space was unnecessary, but should it elicit such a dramatic response? Obviously, there was more going on in this man's life and his heart. And that's the point. The way we react to other people, especially people who cross a boundary we've so earnestly defended, shows how soft--or hard--our hearts have become. 

While it is not difficult to see the hardening taking place in another's reactions, we can easily miss it in our own.

I don't have to think too far back to recall a few instances in which my internal response looked a lot like my neighbor's in the grocery store parking lot. The offenses were real, some major, most minor, and even a few accidental. What, sadly, was consistent was my responsive temperature and volume. While only occasionally spilling out, the internal combustion is enough evidence of a heart hardening amid the stressors of faithful living. Unfortunately, I don't think my heart condition is unique. Rather, it seems to be a common disease among Jesus' followers. 

Jesus tells us the issue I'm facing (and maybe you too?) is not an issue of anger or anxiety or even exhaustion, but rather love. Specifically, "abandoning the love you had at first." (Rev. 2:4). What keeps our hearts from crusting over as we strive to follow Jesus faithfully is not diligence or routine or doctrine (all of which are important), but love. More accurately, God's love for us and others. 

In the same context in which Jesus names our issue, he provides for us the medicine for our healing: "Remember therefore from where you have fallen..." (Rev. 2:5). 

Jesus implores us to remember the rhythmic beat of God's love for the world, including us. A melodic cadence that has filled our lives and a pulsing pattern that has shaped all of history. When we remember God's steady meter, it's quite easy to see how far out of beat we've fallen in our responses to daily offenses and offenders. 

Psalms 136 and 139 are psalms for remembering. Psalm 136 for remembering that "his steadfast love endures" across all the ages and over every realm. Psalm 139 for remembering that his love is sewn into every fiber of your being and has encircled every season of your living. His love is, and has always been, "first" (see Jn. 3:16 & 1 Jn. 4:10). 

Psalm 139 ends with a request of God to help keep our hearts soft and on beat with his. A prayer I encourage you to pray with me today, this week, and often in our patient endurance in following Jesus. 

Search me, O God, and know my heart! 
Test me and know my anxious thoughts and concerns
And see if there be any offensive--offbeat--way within me, 
and lead me along the path
--in the metered pattern of your love--
ancient and everlasting. 

Through Jesus Christ.  Amen. 

Love you, faith family! Praying our Father's blessing over you this week.