A Moment In The Middle

Dear Faith Family,  

On Sunday, before enjoying our "appointed feast," we lit a couple of candles and prayed a collection of prayers. And while there was nothing particularly dramatic in our actions, there is something profound about the simple rituals of entering and ending the Sabbath. 

"Beginnings and endings matter," argues Ruth Haley Barton, not so much because the first and last things we do on our Sabbath determine if we "get it right" or not. Beginnings and endings matter because the Sabbath is a renovating reprieve, a space of peace amid the turmoil of peacemaking, but it is only so if we choose to welcome it and leave it.  

If you missed our unassuming practices (modeled after the Jewish Kiddush and Havdalah), don't worry, we'll post the audio and a guide here soon. But for now, in the middle of life's labor, take a mini-Sabbath, a moment to welcome rest and leave restful into the good work still before you. 

WELCOMING REST

PRAY: Father, thank you that rest in Your finished work is a part of being whole and holy. I rest because I am free at this moment from all that binds me because of Your affection, compassion, and care. I rest because You are for me and with me through Jesus. Amen. 

WATCH & REST: Click this link, and as the candle melts, let all today's anxiety melt away in our Father's knowledge of your need and His present provision. 

LEAVING RESTFUL 

"This light...is a sign that the time to begin creating again has arrived. No more dreamlike [moments]. It is now time to invest ourselves in our work again.” 

WATCH & PRAY: Click this link and pray the words Jesus prayed for you as you step back into the good work you were created for. 

I do not ask that you take the people whom you gave me out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one. They are no more defined by the world as I am defined by the world. Set them apart in the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. And for their sake I set myself apart for holy service to You, that they also may be set apart of holy service in truth. (John 17:15-19)

May you find rest in the middle of work and work resting in God for you and God with you. 

Love you, faith family! God bless. 

One More (Last?) Question

Dear Faith Family,  

Life with God, a life freed by His efforts, is no walk in the park. It is much more like a pilgrimage through death's shadows, the hazy, foreboding, and nearly alive manifestations of objects standing between us and the light. Good thing we are not alone on the journey! We not only follow One who has gone through the valley but the Good Shepherd back again to walk with us on our turn along the path ancient and everlasting. 

As we discussed on Sunday, the place along faith's journey where the Sabbath finds us is not too different from the place it found God's people way back when.

On the seventh day some of the people went out to gather, but they found none. And the Lord said to Moses, "How long will you refuse to keep my commandments and my laws? See! The Lord has given you the Sabbath; therefore on the sixth day he gives you bread for two days. Remain each of you in his place; let no one go out of his place on the seventh day." So the people rested on the seventh day. (Exodus 16:27-30)

Having known bondage and having witnesses to the power of God for them, moving in hope towards a promised better place and yet feeling stuck in the daily grind to live free, the men and women of Exodus 16 were "given" the Sabbath amid the disappoint of the not-immediately-better between what was known and what is believed.

Doing what most of us do when we've journeyed what feels like a long way to end up nowhere far, the first generation of the free grumbled. They complained amongst themselves and to the ones they blamed for the dupe and even to the One who was clearly with them through it all. Instead of the expected swift kick in the rear or a speedy rescue, God gave his fledgling freed people provision for each day. Manna, "the bread of heaven," there for their daily gathering, well, almost every day.

God gave daily bread for living and the expectation for them to labor in His provision, gathering as their usual work of faith. Day after day, they would join God in making a good life along the journey, except for one special day when the provision and labor of the days before would be enough. Enough to cease laboring for life and simply be alive with Him. With their stomachs satisfied by their six-day co-laboring, God gave them a means for their freedom to mature in the seventh day's faith. The Sabbath (re)entered the journey as a means of grace, an experience of reprieve on the road from rescue to maturation as the means for freedom's flourishing.

For six days, God's people had to live and work only for the day, wrestling against the urge to do more, take more, and get more from the day. Whether out of fear of lacking enough for tomorrow, greed's insatiable apatite, slothfulness' slyness of working out of work by working the system, or pride's hunger to control, faith was in a constant battle. But the seventh day was different.

It was a day to resist the creeping shadows blocking the light of Life by simply being free of them. Free not to wrestle with the anxiety, lust, weariness, and ambition in the labors of living but live because they were free already, even if not all the way. A day to rest not only because it is God's good rhythm, nor strictly remembering God was indeed for them and with them, but also as the very means of resisting being lost in the shadows. To keep the Sabbath was to rest as an act of freedom that aided living free between the special days. It still is.  

Sabbath, as discussed in detail on Sunday,  is a day with God and others to resist all those attitudes, actions, inactions, and words that blind our freedom and stifle our maturing into whole and holy life free in Jesus.

For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to the yoke of slavery. (Galatians 5:1)

So, as we consider how we keep the Sabbath, we can add to our questions: "What do I need to resist as a practice of being free, even if only for a day?"

The Sabbath was given to live free for a day and form us to live free all the other days too. Still, because we are not too dissimilar from the first generations of our faith family, yet are people who hope for a different life experience between(!), we best ask the Spirit, "Why do I resist the Sabbath?" What shadows still overcast my heart, keeping me from walking in the Light? 

For good news came to us just as to them, but the message they heard did not benefit them, because it did not meet with faith in the hearers. (Hebrews 4:2) 

May we ask with confidence, and by faith receive the mercy and grace of One who "sympathizes with our weakness" and delights to "help in time of need" as we follow Him through the valley and into the place of peace matured.  

Love you, faith family. God bless! 

The Grace of Loving Work

Dear Faith Family,  

Do you love that for which you work and those whom you work with? That was the question we asked each other on Sunday. 

The question is not, "Do you like your work or all the duties of your daily labor?" Nor, "Are you fond of everyone you work alongside?" In asking, I don't assume that the labors of living are always easy, enjoyable, or even chosen. But, we did presume that,

"whatever is done to make, manufacture, construct your life—in word and actions" is worth "working from your soul as for the Lord..."
(Colossians 3:17,23) 

As we said, work is not fundamentally what you get paid to do. Instead, work is everything we do in cultivating (making, sustaining) life. Work is all those daily labors done to make a life with God and with others, good (or not), in our time and place.

Our desire for our work to be good (instead of not), in step with the good of God's design and destiny, compels us to work from the soul, from our complete self.

We know that submitting ourselves wholly to Jesus, connected and committed to Life Himself, is the only Way to True life now and forever. In the same manner, a life wholly committed to Jesus is a life wholly committed to the "good works" for which we were crafted (Eph. 2:10). Just as in life, so in the heart for work: what is submitted to Him, is raised with Him, and so is good. 

But submitting the soul to something or someone can not be out of obligation or for earnings. Our soul can only be so committed through love. Only in love can our labors in living be in harmony with the "very good" of God's creating and re-creating (Col. 3:10,14).

And so, we return to the question, Do you love that for which you work? Have you given yourself wholly to the good work you were crafted to contribute in the "determined allotted period and boundaries of your dwelling place" (Acts 17:26)? Do you love those you work with? Have you given yourself wholly to the good of those whose labor in living you share? 

In truth, much like our relationship with Jesus, our relationship with work is a matter of maturation, a growing into completeness over time and through the ups and downs of passing seasons. So don't fret; just follow if, in asking the Spirit to examen your heart for work, you discover you still have some ways to go. Nevertheless, there is something holy, something already "blessed," within submitting to the love of that and those for whom we have been made. Wendell Berry describes one person's revelation of the grace of loving work this way, 

"Andy has loved his work, the daily care of his place...the daily waiting for words...As it was human work it could not be free of trouble that from time to time would come to it, but it has had in it also a constant inherence of pleasure, even of joy. His work, he thinks, the love that was in it, the love that it was for, has given him a happy life." 

May we love our work and find, even in the trouble that comes to it, the inherence of joy in it and life whole and holy, happy (already blessed) in Jesus. 

Love you, faith family. God bless! 

Starting At The Heart

Dear Faith Family,  

No matter how much we'd like to think otherwise, our routines and rituals, whether religious practices or cultural adaptations, often shape our understanding of life with God more than His stories of life with Him. In other words, our experience (whether directly, indirectly, or lack thereof) is often the primary filter for our understanding. I know this especially to be true for my understanding of the Sabbath. 

Growing up, there was no "Sabbath." There was certainly a day for church and God-related activities, but it was busy. Full from morning until night. And while I enjoyed most of it, the "holiness" of the day had less to do with getting into a rhythm with God's way of being than it did with meeting the expectations of our community. Later in life, it was "studying" the Sabbath practices of others that, admittedly, confused more comforted my longing for peace. There were so many ideas and assumptions and convictions, not to mention the endless list of do's and don'ts; it was hard to know where to start, or even if I should!  

But I (we?) are not the first to be so influenced by the expectations and practices of others that we miss the heart of the day God made for us. In truth, especially around this topic, we are more like the Pharisees who observe Jesus and his disciples' actions on the Sabbath and get lost asking, "What is work?" and "What is rest?" We look at what others have and haven't done on the Sabbath, assessing what others are doing and not doing through our own experiences (or inexperience) and expectations of this day, and more often than not, dismiss their efforts--either in judgment or because don't know how to follow suit. All the while, we, like those Pharisees way back when, never ask, "What is the Sabbath for?" But don't fret; Jesus answers the questions we often fail to ask, 

Then Jesus said, 'The Sabbath was made to serve us; we weren't made to serve the Sabbath. The Son of Man is no lackey to the Sabbath. He's in charge!'
(Mark 2:27-28) 

When it comes to sabbath-keeping, we fall into a long line of God-people who start with the how rather than the heart. But, if we'd just for a moment assume that we know nothing about the Sabbath and let the stories of life with God form our understanding, we'd see that at the heart of the seventh-day's design was enjoying the completeness, the wholeness of what we are already apart of. 

Looking over what was "very good" (Gen. 1:31), God stops simply to enjoy His being with what He loves as it already is. In the peace of a world complete (even if not yet fully finished), in the harmony of unseparated communion with His beloved, content in Himself and His labors, God stops to be with, to enjoy, to cherish, to relish in the wholeness, the shalom, of the relationships in His presence (Gen. 2:1-2). And in doing so, God blessed us with a day to do the same. Sabbath is a day to be whole with God, with ourselves, with others, and with creation because God has made it so we can be. Through His creating work and again in His work of re-creation through Jesus ("lord even of the Sabbath"), peace is complete--even if not yet fully finished.

I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.
(John 16:33) 

As we discussed on Sunday, the transforming blessing of the Sabbath does not begin with what we do and don't do, but with the heart that formed this day to serve us. A day that was created and made holy, blessed (Gen. 2:3) so that we too might delight in wholeness, delight in being at peace in our relationship with God, with self, with others, with creation because of the work of Jesus. 

So say you buy what I believe our scripture and Savior are selling, that Sabbath is about stopping to delight in the wholeness of life with God and others. Whether this affirms or reshapes your experience of the Sabbath, I bet you can't help but ask, "But what am I supposed to do, or not do, on the Sabbath?" 

While the question is only natural, let me leave you with two better questions that I think will help us enter the heart of the Sabbath. 

• What are the things you do (or don't do) that cause you to miss out on or overlook your "very good" relationships or cause confusion or conflict within them? Consider abstaining from these things. 

• What are the things you do (or don't do) that allow you the space to delight, cherish and strengthen your "excellent" relationships? Consider prioritizing these things. 

Your answers won't give you a finished picture of the Sabbath, but they might give you a place to start from within the heart of Sabbath. 

Love you, faith family. God bless! 

No Need To Wait For Tomorrow

Dear Faith Family,  

I recently had the privilege of serving as a chaperone on the twin's 5th Grade Austin/San Antonio field trip, their first overnight school trip! Cohen, Lily, and their fifty-eight classmates were pumped for two days and a night away from the ordinary routines of class and home. 

The trip was a blast, though I'm not sure how much Texas history we returned with! Still, we had a great time with many unexpected excitements along our fully packed schedule. From 7 am on Thursday until 9 pm on Friday, our only "downtime" was quiet moments during movies on buses packed with overstimulated children. Graciously, kids are resilient, though I'm not sure I've fully recovered! 

While the non-stop schedule was exhilarating and brilliantly appropriate for our adventure (after all, a full slate of activities means less time for wandering into trouble!), such a pace is not conducive to living well--no matter what those quick-to-recover kids will tell you! 

Sadly, many of us (myself included) live our days bound by over-packed schedules. Whether by choice or circumstances, or a bit of both, we go through a day and a week non-stop trying to wring the most out of life. Whether for pleasure, for profit, for purpose, or to just pull through, we go day to day and week to week, with the only downtime being momentary pauses in front of a screen.

What's more sad than our habits is the fact, as Annie Dillard once noted, "How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” We think tomorrow will be different; our schedule will change next week. But before we know it, we've lived a life (at least a more significant chunk of life than we expected) full of days filled yet, like our field trip, with little more than worn-out bodies and cheap souvenirs to show for it.  

Good thing we don't have to wait until tomorrow to enter a whole and holy different rhythm. As the author of Hebrews reminds us, God "appoints a certain day, 'Today'" to participate in His rest, "therefore let us strive to enter that rest...." (Hebrews 4:7,11). 

So, right now, wherever you are in your day's schedule, stop and rest with God in His work "finished from the foundation of the world" (Hebrews 4:3).

Take a deep breath, and as you breathe in, pray: God...and as you exhale, pray: With Me. Take a deep breath, and as you breathe in, pray: God At Work...and as you exhale, pray: Through Me.

Repeat the prayed breaths twice before you renter the good work you've been fashioned for in the rest created for you.  

How you spend your day is how you spend your life. So today, spend it with God and with God in your work as we draw closer to a day of rest with Him. 

Love you, faith family! God bless.

Work In Progress

Dear Faith Family,  

Our family enjoys Disney World; that's no secret. Due largely to Deedra's savvy planning, we have had several opportunities to spend time as a family immersed in a world of stories and thrill rides. Inevitably, we find ourselves wandering the park waiting for our next adventure but needing some cool place to slow down, and that's when we make our way to Walt's Carousel of Progress.

The "ride" is a slowly rotating theater with audio-animatronics on the stage showing a family's "progress" from the first days of electricity into the future of a technological utopia. The attraction was the central feature of the 1964 New York World's Fair, and while its tech is dated (and its song annoyingly sticky!), the vision for humanity it foretells is sadly accurate. In Walt's eyes, humanity is advanced the further it is removed from the daily tasks of living. The more machines can do for us, the less we have to do for ourselves. And the assumption in the "progressing" theater is the better we are for it all. 

What Walt saw way back then is what most of the modern, especially our Western world, has arrived at. Like Disney's carousel, we go around and around under the assumption that what makes life better is working less, rather than good work done well. 

Maybe because in the cultivation of life, all those responsibilities, roles, and relationships which require our daily efforts are entangled with thistles and thorns, we wrestle to work less. Maybe because leisure is marketed as a luxury and luxury is for the elite, we long for less labor. Maybe because we don't see the value of our daily efforts, unable to imagine our daily grinding as a part of something more than surviving; we save our hearts for something else. Maybe because we don't rhythmically cease striving for life with God, we strive for the god-like disconnection from the efforts to live (though admittedly, that is unlike the God we know in Jesus). 

Contrary to Walt and our cultural perception and (if we're honest) our feelings toward it, work, as we said on Sunday, is not something that we overcome, but the means for overcoming, the way of living with God in partnership with His good design and destiny. Work is cultivating good in life that God has made, and doing so amid the seeming chaos that surrounds (see Gen. 2:5-15). If work was anything less, could the apostle Paul, with integrity to his calling as 'a servant of Christ Jesus...set apart for the gospel of God,' say to wives and husbands, children and parents, slaves and masters, 

Whatever you do, work from the soul as for the Lord and not for mankind, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ.
(Colossians 3:23-24)

Our goal is not to get through work, get out of work, or work less, but to experience the wholeness of being (re)made to work in Jesus. And doing that for which we are fashioned, well, from the essence of our being. To that end, I invite you to pray an adaption of our Collective Prayer this week with me (and for one another). 

Father, help us live into the gift of your beautiful, never-ending grace.

Holy Spirit, help us see that in you we are enough,
formed and fashioned in your good design for your good destiny.
Wonderful is your work; may our souls know it very well! 

May our work be a beautiful, generous offering of love to you, Father.

May it spill over to the people and the world you made.
May we flourish in our work,
because we are always resting
in the finished work of Jesus and His ever-presence.
Amen. 

Love you, faith family! God bless.

The Place We (Re)Start

Dear Faith Family,  

Last week, like those in the garden, on the road, or in the room running into Jesus alive, we were invited to  "not disbelieve, but believe." Believe that all the adversaries of our souls (within and without) have been destroyed by the finished work of Jesus on the cross. Believe that we are not alone, not meant just to figure it out, not left to wander through our days, but shown, taught, and guided into God’s good design and destiny by Jesus alive again and forever. 

What could life be, if we believed? We asked that question, hoping to spark our imagination for life after Easter. It is the question that will set the course for our Gathered times during this next season. But where do we start? Well, as Psalm 92 reminds us, we begin where God has finished, ceased, sabbathed. 

A Psalm. A Song for the Sabbath
It is good to give thanks to LORD...For you, O LORD, have made me glad by your work...My eyes have seen the down fall of my enemies,
my ears have heard the doom of my assailants.
(Psalm 92:1,4,11) 

Life after Easter starts where all life started and restarts, resting with God in His finished work. As it was in Genesis, so it is again in Jesus. After God works, we rest with Him before we work with Him. It's (re)entering this incredibly profound God design, this whole and holy rhythm of Sabbathing to work, working into Sabbath, that allows us to live wisely, courageously, competently, and with peace. Imagine that! 

Seriously, imagine if you could discern what was temporal versus what was eternal in your daily duties, dialogues, and disagreements. Imagine being free from the bondage of fear in your relationships and responsibilities. Imagine if you were crafted and commissioned to handle your circumstances and career. Imagine if you were perfectly planted in God's Kingdom come and will being done on earth as in heaven. 

Psalm 92, as we shared on Sunday, invites us to see life whole and holy from the only place we can, from a place of rest in God's finished work. I invite you, faith family, to let the Spirit lead you (again) into praying from a Sabbath place this week. 

Love you, faith family! God bless.

Life After Easter

Dear Faith Family,  

The marvelous wonder of living after Easter is the struggle for life is over. No longer do we have to strive to attain life nor keep life, though we will, as Psalm 143 revealed on Sunday, continue to face struggles within life. Yes, even after Easter, there will be days and seasons where we feel the enemies crushing closeness and the fatigue of a life pursued for ill purposes. Yet, Jesus alive means all those enemies of living, those adversaries of the soul that still, kill, and destroy that which they strive after, have themselves met their better. 

Each morning after Easter, including this morning, we awake to the sound of steadfast love showing us the way we should go, teaching us how to live well, and leading us into open space. All because Jesus died for our sin, rose from the grave that first Easter morning, and lives this morning speaking the same words He spoke then: "Peace be with you." (Jn. 20:19, 21, 26) 

What if we believed that? I mean, really believed that peace was with us?

What if you believed that your conflicts in life would not be your end? Nor will the ones you are in conflict with.

What if you believed that you are not alone, not left to wonder, not left to figure it out? But instead, what if you woke with ears expecting to hear steadfast love show, teach, and lead you into life whole and holy?

What all could an after-Easter life be if we believed?! 

We'll begin to answer that question together on Sunday. But in the meantime, I invite you, my friends, to believe, trusting the good news that God is for you and with you. And, to imagine a life after Easter, a life where you "have seen the downfall of your enemies" in the forever life of Jesus. 

Love you, faith family! God bless.

Putting Prayer Into Practice

Dear Faith Family,  

Unless you grew up in a tradition that kept the prayers and celebrations of “holy week,” the days leading up to Easter may not have included a time of reflecting on Jesus’ last supper with His friends before His crucifixion. Well, that is what tomorrow, Maundy Thursday, marks.

The label comes from the shortened Latin word “mandatum,” which means “command” and is the root of our word “mandate.” On the night before Jesus died, He gathered his apprentices together, giving them a mandate,

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you….”
(John 13:34)

At this gathered meal, Jesus gave the disciples our regular manner of remembering His love for us in the earthy elements of broken bread and poured out wine (Lk. 22:19-20). It was also here that Jesus gave his friends the often overshadowed example of His love in action by washing the disciples’ feet (Jn. 13:2-17). An “example,” Jesus says, “that you also should do just as I have done to you.”

At this final pre-Easter meal, Jesus offered himself and his service not just to friends but to friends who would either betray him or abandon him or both. Jesus' love was not only selfless and sacrificial but was simple and lacked all conditions. Jesus mandates a love like His and shows us how to keep that command. 

The prayed poems of Lent, Lord willing, have cultivated in us a prophetic empathy with our fellow sinners and saints. Now reflecting on Jesus' final meal encourages us to move those prayers into practice. 

So today, take a moment to read and remember Jesus' final mandatum and ask the Spirit to lead you into the humble service of your fellow saints and sinners tomorrow. Pray believing Jesus' love for you empowers you to fulfill His command in even the simplest of actions toward those around you. 

Love you, faith family! God bless.

Willing To Be Pushy

Dear Faith Family,

When something feels different, often our initial question is: What’s wrong? Think about the last time your spouse or friend mentioned, perhaps offhandedly, that they didn’t feel right. Did you not, like the excellent spouse and friend you are, press in asking, “What’s wrong?” or “What’s the problem?” Of course, you did!

Instinctually, or at least culturally, when we or those near us experience something different, something other than the status quo, we assume the origin of the unsettlement is a disorienting crisis: some pain point of faith, within self, or among relationships. Perhaps that is because the experiences of disorientation are jolting. Whether microbial stings or cataclysmic shifts, pain forces us, pushes us, does violence against our state of stability. So naturally, those memories stick in and stick out in our minds, hearts, and prayers. And it is amid these pain points that we have been learning to pray via our Psalms of Lent.

Yet, pain is not the only unsettling experience in life. Goodness and mercy, too, are violent. Goodness and mercy, too, have the force to knock us out of death and into life. Goodness and mercy are enough to push us out of the narrow confines of life lived in the dark of sin (our own and another’s) into the wide open spaces of something new. New things, like painful things, can be unsettling too. At least, that is what we learned from Psalm 102 on Sunday.

We can all recall those times when goodness and mercy caught us in a way that made everything feel different. Whether you were caught off guard by a kind word, a just-at-the-right-moment encounter, or the arrival of daily bread. Or you were raptured in tears by a fellow human’s courage, a form of beauty, or the end of some evil. Each of us experience moments when we sense in body and soul that the world is not as dim as it seems, that there is more to life than we can see, and that we are not merely tossed around by random forces but caught up in something magnificently more.

May days are like an everlasting shadow; I wither away like grass. But you, O LORD, are enthroned forever…set free those who were doomed to die…. (Psalm 102:11-12, 20)

Amongst the many amazing graces of goodness and mercy knocking us out of the darkness of pain and reviving an atrophied heart is the push often comes from a person. Certainly, the Spirit’s presence and providence are evident, at least in hindsight, in the expanding light of reflection. But the initial contact that shifted our status quo arrived through another human not too dissimilar from you or me.

So, what if you and I, having been recipients of the force of goodness and mercy from another’s words or actions toward us, assumed we, too, might be the instruments of reviving violence?  What if we entered into our ordinary roles and relationships, assuming we may get to be the means of a push out of darkness and dismay into light and life? What if we believed today, whether in our home, workplace, neighborhood, school, or friendships, it had been planned that we’d be the evidence of goodness and mercy chasing after our fellow humans?

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them. (Ephesians 2:10)

What if you lived ready to give a push of goodness and mercy to your children, your spouse, your friend, your employee, your employer, and even your enemy? What if, more than any other force you could muster or design or will, such a God-attuned heart could actually change a life, unsettle it into something new and more? What if you believed it, desired it, and woke up ready to be a part of another’s resurrection?

May you (we) be willing to push others around with words and actions of goodness and mercy and so practice and participate in resurrection.

Love you, faith family! God bless.

Praying The Impossible

Dear Faith Family,  

Did you know that the early church used the days leading to Easter Sunday (what we now call Lent) as a time for reconciliation between one another? Our faith lineage used these days we are in right now, not only to turn and believe the good news of God with us and for us but also as an ideal time to restore relationships broken by everyday and extraordinary offenses. In fact, this vision for a whole with God and with others held the center of the pre-Easter practices. That may be why Psalm 51 is at the center of our Psalms of Lent. 

Psalm 51 is a prayer of the offender. It is a prayer of one who, intentionally or not, knowingly or not, out of immaturity, ignorance, or evil, is the origin of another's disorientation. Truth be told, we have all been (perhaps even today, are) this person. And so we need this psalm to help us see our offense in light of God's heart for wholeness and, at the same time, recognize God's pursuit of our heart.

Behold, you delight in truth in the inward being,
and you teach me wisdom in the secret heart.
(Psalm 51:6)

Only then will our efforts at restoration actually be acceptable and fruitful. 

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.
(Psalm 51:17) 

Yet, as we discussed on Sunday, Psalm 51 is not just a prayer of the offender; it is also a prayer for the offender. 

While it is undeniable that we have been (are) offenders, it is also undeniably true that we have been (are) painfully disoriented by the offensive actions and attitudes of others. We have, every one of us, suffered at the hands of those to whom our life has some relation--whether we be to them an intimate connection, a cog in the machine, or something in between. Yet it is those who maliciously or mindlessly seem opposed to our life, whose actions and attitudes seem to fight against our good, that Jesus implores us to do the seemingly impossible:  

I say to you, Love your enemies and
pray for those who persecute you...
(Matthew 5:44)

Psalm 51 is our prayer for those who offend us. The truth is, as the psalm trains us to see, only a heart that God is after, that is caught, cleansed, and refashioned by him, can participate in making whole what has been broken. And isn't that what we are after? The offender's acknowledgment of wrong and participation in making things right. Isn't that what we feel we need from those who make life difficult for us? Well then, we should join in God's pursuit of those who are the source of our disorientation. Praying in step with Psalm 51 that they, like us when we are the offenders, would be overwhelmed by their offense and by God's pursuit of their heart...

Be gracious to me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions...you delight in truth in the inward being, and you teach me wisdom in the secret heart.
(Psalm 51:1, 6) 

...and by God in you, the offended. 

Against you, you [in those I've wronged],
have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight.
(Psalm 51:4a) 

So who are you this week? Are you an offender who needs to see your offense in light of God's heart for you and for those you've disoriented? Or are you one who is disoriented by another's offense, who needs to join God's pursuit of wholeness through His pursuit of the offender's heart? Wherever you are, join me in praying Psalm 51 as we give in to being caught by the goodness and mercy that chase after us.  

Love you, faith family! God bless.

Why Don't You Just Complain About It Some More!

Dear Faith Family,  

One of my biggest pet peeves is complaining, probably because I do so much of it myself! No matter the number of positive affirmations or the consistency of daily graces, my heart is prone to hone in on the difficulties of a day, a relationship, or task. Whether the discomfort is slight or stiffening, a self-inflicted obstacle or an external impediment, I sometimes feel the psalm from Sunday is true, "my life is a vomit of groans" (Psalm 38:8). And frankly, I hate living that way. 

No one likes being around a complainer, not even the complainer themselves, yet Psalm 38 is known as a "Complaint Psalm." It is a poetic prayer that lets God in on all the difficulties of the day/life/world manifesting in our hearts. And while you'd be right to think God doesn't need to be "let in" to know of such realities, our faith heritage for thousands and thousands of years has taught us that God desires to be let into our heart (disoriented or otherwise):

My child, give me your heart, and let your eyes delight in my ways.
(Proverbs 23:26)

I slept, but my heart was awake. A sound! My beloved is knocking. 'Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my perfect one..."
(Song of Solomon 5:2)

Psalm 38, like the other "Complaint Psalms," teaches us that now, especially in the season of Lent, is the time to complain. And while my inner voice wants to fire back, "Stop complaining!" the Spirit says, "Don't hold back." Because, as we've learned, letting God into our disoriented heart is an act of hope. 

When we complain to God, we are saying that we are finished, that we are done with this life as we experience it. Indeed our complaint declares that we are done with the same old situations, the same old possibilities, the same old false fixes, the same old defenses and pretenses, essentially saying, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!" And so our complaint becomes our confession (perhaps for the first time) that we are utterly in need of something new, something that can only be received. 

For in you, God, I hope...my God—you will answer!... Hurry and help me; I want some wide-open space in my life!
(Psalm 38:15,22)

When we complain at people, spilling our vomit of groans into their laps, we usually leave a mess. When we complain to people, our vulnerable confessions of feelings can be an admittance of being done with the old and longing for something different. Still, in the complexity of relationships, our complaints may not be received as a step towards something new, but yet another form of opposition. However, whenever we open our hearts to God, letting Him in on our disorientation, there is an ever-consistent response: I hear...I see...I know...and I, too, want more for you: 

Look at me. I stand at the door. I knock. If you hear me call and open the door, I'll come right in and sit down to supper with you.
(Revelation 3:20)

So go ahead and complain! May your complaining to God lead you to the table prepared for you, even in the presence of those things which compel your complaining. 

Love you, faith family! God bless.

Time To Make The Turn

Dear Faith Family,  

The first turn in our Lenten journey, as we discovered on Sunday in Psalm 32, is a tough one. We round the corner and find that we are face-to-face with...ourselves. And not the prepared-for-the-day, dolled-up, slicked-out "Insta" self, but the self we'd prefer never garner anyone's attention. 

Whether out of shame or self-righteousness, because we are too distracted to look, or too wounded, too angry, too entitled, or too overwhelmed; when life feels painful or off, our instinct is to wrestle with the people, circumstances, and forces around us before facing ourself. The first of our Psalms of Lent, Psalm 6, assumed that this would be our initial response and, without condemnation of any sort, invited us to open up about our wrestles. 

Perhaps the only way to prepare for the inward turn of Psalm 32 is to know that God is for us, overcoming all that is opposed to our life whole and forever, 

My requests have all been granted, my prayers are answered. Cowards, my enemies disappear. Disgraced, they turn tail and run. (Psalm 6:9-10)

Knowing God's got all the "stuff" around us covered, we can be open and honest with ourselves and our contributions to the fractures we feel. 

Then I let it all out;  I said, 'I’ll come clean about my failures to God.' Suddenly the pressure was gone—my guilt dissolved, my sin disappeared. (Psalm 32:5)

The journey of Lent leads us straight into the truth, "If we claim that we’re free of sin, we’re only fooling ourselves" (1 John 1:8). And Lent's sure and scheduled end at Good Friday and Easter Sunday remind us that there is no more secure place to be, than being utterly vulnerable before God and with one another,

But if we walk in the light, God himself being the light, we also experience a shared life with one another, as the sacrificed blood of Jesus, God’s Son, cleanses all our sin. (1 John 1:7)

As you (and me) pray Psalm 32 this week, may the Spirit lead us into honest, open, and transforming fellowship, even with those we wrestle with. 

Love you, faith family! God bless.

A Time to Give Up

Dear Faith Family,  

We are now officially on our way in this Lenten journey! Perhaps the exclamation mark, like Chaz's "God bless and Happy Lent!" farewell on Sunday (insert winking emoji!), is not quite seasonally appropriate. After all, while we know what awaits us on the other side of the journey, the fall before the rise is sobering. Maybe that's why no "Lent Calendars" are lining the grocery store shelves?! 

The truth is the rhythms of Lent require a different kind of commitment than the preparatory efforts of other seasons. While the Cycle of Light (Advent - Christmas - Epiphany) is, in some way, about receiving, the season of Lent is about giving up. 

Giving up speaking first to listen. Giving up eating to grieve. Giving up distractions to see. 

As Jesus' depicted in our final Kingdom Epiphany, the prerequisite for sharing in God’s life, for a life full and forever (i.e., eternal life), is simply being where He is. And where is Jesus? Well, where He always is, with those in need. Those who have a hunger or thirst in life in need of satisfaction. With those who are lost and in need of being found and welcomed. Those exposed, naked, and in need of covering and protection. Those ill in body and soul and in need of care. Those imprisoned, trapped and isolated, and in need of presence.

And while we don’t always “see Him” in such persons and places, we believe that Jesus' desire is for us to live with eyes wide open to not only our need for Him but his presence in the neediness of others. The Lenten Season provides us with a special time to focus on seeing Jesus where He is by giving up those things that distract our vision of neediness—our own and our neighbors. That is what the new-to-us practice of Abstinence is all about. 

CHOOSING WHAT TO GIVE UP

What are your daily habits—activities, attitudes, and interactions—that keep you from “seeing Him” in needy persons? That’s the question you’ll need to answer to decide what to abstain from during Lent.

Our answers will be as varied and unique as our souls, though there may be some similarities to what distracts our vision. Here are a few examples as you prayerfully consider what to abstain from (ideally) beginning today through Easter:

• Phone Distractions | Whether an app or game, browsing your favorite internet sites, or scrolling through social media, do you “instinctually” grab your phone when you feel bored, sad, anxious, or empty? If so, consider giving up one or all those things that distract you from your emotions and what the Spirit might be trying to show you.

• Rhythm Distractions | Do you stay up late watching shows or reading books and find it hard to wake up into a new day with a sharpness of mind or heart? Do you wake up sharp but jump directly into action without much thought? Do you fill your weeknights with activities that entertain but little that uplift or help out? Could giving up to sleep an hour earlier, giving up a morning activity for twenty minutes of prayerful thought, or giving up a weeknight for something more substantial help you be more ready to see Jesus each day?

• Sinful Distractions | Sometimes, the plain truth is that we are not accidentally blind but willfully so. As Jesus said, we “love the darkness rather than the light because our works are evil.” There is no more excellent time and safer season to give up living in the darkness to walk in Light (1 John 1:5-10).

WHAT TO DO WHILE ABSTAINING

Similar to fasting, a season of abstinence is filled with prayer. When you find yourself longing for what you’ve given up, let that feeling draw you into the reason for your choice: to see Jesus in your neediness and the neediness of others. Rather than merely confessing your longing and the difficulties of your fidelity, ask the Spirit for eyes to see the brokenness within and without and for how you can meet and serve Jesus there.

May we find ourselves more with Jesus, and Jesus with us, in and among those whom He loves this Lenten Season.

Love you, faith family! God bless.

Starting The Journey Together

Dear Faith Family,  

For much of the global Church, today marks the beginning of the season of Lent. A season in which we fall with Jesus into death and rise with Jesus into life again and new. 

The first day of this journey of bright sadness is marked as Ash Wednesday. On this day, the Church gathers to consecrate themselves for the days ahead and the Lenten Rhythms that begin through the imposing of ashes. The ashes are a reminder that from dust we have our origin, and from dust, we will return, but by an absurd and gracious gift of Jesus' life, we are given life full and forever. Ashes may be our end, but they are not the end. 

Whether you are able to join with friends of our faith family in an Ash Wednesday service or not, I invite you to join with the saints around the world, praying the "Litany of Penitence," sharing our need for God's grace and receiving grace upon grace in Jesus. 

Pray with and as the Church:

Most holy and merciful Father:
We confess to you and to one another, 
and to the whole communion of saints
in heaven and on earth, 
that we have sinned by our own fault 
in thought, word, and deed; 
by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. 

We have not loved you with our whole heart, nor mind, nor strength. We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We have not forgiven others, as we have been forgiven. 
Have mercy on us, gracious Father. 

We have been deaf to your call to serve, as Jesus served us. We have not been true to the mind of Christ. We have grieved your Holy Spirit. 
Have mercy on us, compassionate Father. 

We confess to you, Father, all our past unfaithfulness: the pride, hypocrisy, and impatience of our lives. 
We confess to you, humble Father. 

Our self-indulgent appetites and ways, and our exploitation of other people, 
We confess to you, self-giving Father. 

Our anger at our own frustration, and our envy of those more fortunate than ourselves, 
We confess to you, generous Father. 

Our intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts, and our dishonesty in daily life and work, 
We confess to you, just Father. 

Our negligence in prayer and worship, and our failure to commend the faith that is in us, 
We confess to you, patient Father. 

We turn to you, Father, and away from the wrongs we have done: acknowledging our blindness to human need and suffering, and our indifference to injustice and cruelty, 
We hold fast to you, always-present Father. 

Acknowledging false judgments, uncharitable thoughts toward our neighbors, and prejudice and contempt toward those who are different from us, 
We turn to you, ever-chasing Father. 

Acknowledging our waste and pollution of your creation, and our lack of concern for those who come after us, 
We hold fast to you, never-changing Father.

Restore us, good Father, and let your anger depart from us; 
Favorably hear us, for your mercy is great. 

Bring to maturity the fruit of your salvation, 
That we may show forth your glory in the world. 

By the cross and passion of your Son our King and Friend, 
Bring us with all your saints into the complete joy of his resurrection. 

Amen. 

Love you, faith family! God bless.

Believing In The End

Dear Faith Family,  

What does it look like to be ready when the One we serve shows up at the end? When history’s party finally reaches its destination? Jesus depicts the answer in our final Kingdom Epiphany, revealing our Father's heart for us to live off faith in His life given to us. 

While I'd like to think my faith is like the first two servants who abandoned themselves wholly to the word and wealth of the Master, the truth is, my faith often has a twinge of the third servant's calculating fear. 

Too often, my faith is hidden under the guise of figuring out "God's will." Instead of trusting that what He has given me is uniquely gifted for me to do well with, I miss the "investment" opportunities for abundant life right in front of me. Too often, my faith is buried in the hesitation that I'll lose what I've been given if I don't use it correctly. Instead of trusting that He always has more to give, I miss out on entering into the abundance of His joy. 

Good thing, for those like me, that Jesus told these stories of the end, between the ends, so that we don't miss out on the fullness of the life He has given us to live. That's what makes Jesus' revelation that "Time is up! God's Kingdom is here" such Good News, if we'd just let His life grab hold of us and believe! 

So, let us end this season of Epiphany where we started, asking ourselves and one another:

How would life look if I believed Jesus' stories
are true stories, of what life with God is really like? 

Why don't we think and talk about that, as we follow Jesus together. Love you, faith family! God bless. 

Don't Skip the Setting!

Dear Faith Family,  

I don't know about you, but when it comes to Jesus' stories of intent, I fixate rather quickly on the part of the story that appears to unveil the intent. Somewhat absent-mindedly, I move past the introductory setting and settle in on the "win" and "loss" of the narrative. That is especially true for our parable from Sunday, "The Ten Virgins," found in Matthew 25.

Almost without thinking, I focus on the implications of those who are in and those left out in the story. And the same pattern holds for the parable of the Talents that follows. Quickly I glance through the scene-setting details and square in on the assessment of the servants--for good and evil. How about you? 

I suppose it is only natural for us to fixate on the climax of a story; that is how stories are written, after all. Plus, we humans have that odd draw to tension, to the offensive, and apocalyptic. Crisis, conflict, even fear, sell; at least our publishing and entertainment industries operate under that impression. 

But what if, just for fun, we took a moment longer to let the setting sink in, or better yet, let ourselves sink into the setting of Jesus' revelatory tales? 

Do me a favor; take a second to quiet your heart and mind. Take in a deep breath and hold it for four seconds. Now exhale. Do it again, but this time, as you're breathing in, imagine you are in God's presence, and as you exhale, let your whole body sink into the image of God being with you. Take one more deep imaginative breath, hold it for four seconds, and sink into the images Jesus gives us for what life in God is truly like: 

• Life with God, Jesus says, is like being a young woman invited to a grand party, and who is expected will join in the fun. (Matthew 25:1) 

• Life with God is like being a servant entrusted to live on the master's absurdly abundant wealth and presumed to be capable of doing so. (Matthew 25:14-15) 

Life with God is like being invited to a party! Not trying to find a way to ensure an invitation or hoping it doesn't prove to be a fake, but actually invited with the only expectation that you show up ready to join in the festivities when it's time! 

Life with God is like living on house money, and having more of it than you could ever need! Not trying to demonstrate your worthiness nor earn the abundance, but actually entrusted with the expectation that you'll find you have all you need and more! 

Imagine that! No, really, take a few moments and imagine what Jesus says life with God is truly like. Ask the Spirit to show you if your vision of life with God matches up with Jesus', and if it doesn't, what you might be missing and missing out on. 

There is so much to see in the heart of Jesus' parables, but let's not pass too quickly over the life-framing beauty of his introductory images. May our life with God be everything Jesus supposes that it is. 

 Love you, faith family! God bless. 

Wanna Hear A Joke?

Dear Faith Family,  

How much effort do you put into living? Making a living? Living well? I'd wager that most of us spend most of our time and resources on staying alive--and striving to more than survive, but thrive in our living. As living creatures, we instinctively do whatever is necessary to stay living. Our drive is only natural. 

Our instincts don't disappear when it comes to our life with God. Even when Jesus bursts onto the scene declaring, "Times up!" (i.e., life is over), "God's kingdom is at hand" (i.e., life with God is here), "repent and believe the good news"; our instinct to make every effort to stay alive with God continues to drive us. We are willing to do whatever it takes to get in, and, once in, everything it takes to stay living there. So it's no wonder when Jesus says in Luke 14:25-33 that what it takes is to "hate living," "accept death," and "renounce all efforts at staying alive," we think he must be joking. And so we give our best efforts to finish building the life started and keep the peace of the life we have. The sad irony is, as we discussed Sunday, Jesus was indeed joking, but we tend to miss the joke. 

It's been said that before the gospel is good news, it is news both tragic and comedic. Tragic in the sense that it is news that every one of us is dead in our sin; whatever life we are living, good, bad, or otherwise, ends. But it is also comedic in the sense of "a kind of terrible funniness and of a happy end to all that is terrible." For, it is news that we living-dead are loved anyway, cherished anyway, forgiven anyway. As one author put it, the hilarity is that we are "bleeding to be sure, but also bled for." As life leaves us, it seems, life is given to us. 

If I am honest, I hear the tragic news more reticently than the comedic. I feel the weight of life bleeding out, the struggle to stop the bleeding in any and every way possible, and the helplessness of not being able to do so, at least not entirely. I am, admittedly, ever so slowly discovering the levity (a.k.a., joy) that all I need to do to stay alive is to stop trying to! 

Truth be told, the only thing I am sure not to fail at in life is dying. I'll certainly fail to complete many an aspiration, and inevitably pick the wrong battle or be in a place where no negotiation can get me out. And even when I feel like I've figured it all out, something will come along and prove me wrong. That's the tragedy. But, the hilariously good news is that one thing I am sure to do that, like you, I am not able to keep from doing is all that is required to truly live--and to live forever. 

"We are not raised, reconciled, and restored because we are thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent," says Robert Capon, "but because we are dead and our life is hid with Christ in God--because, that is, Jesus has this absolute thing about raising the dead. In the Gospels, he never meets a corpse that doesn't sit up right on the spot," nor tells a story where the dead don't come back to life, and the lost aren't found. 

The thing, says Jesus, required to live in him, just happens to be the one thing--despite all my efforts to the contrary--I am able to do: stop living. Inevitably, my life ends, but the good news is that is precisely when life actually begins. I still have a ways to go to exist consistently in the "zip and zing" of the Good News as "a divine comedy," but I think I'm starting to get the joke! How about you?

 Love you, faith family! 

Nothing To Fear

Dear Faith Family,  

One of the few things more dreadful than being lost--directionless and disconnected--is being found wanting--unable to measure up. 

The fear of not living up to expectations, especially God's, is the energizing force for many of the activities we undertake and much of what we avoid. Whether we are honest enough to admit it or not, what often fuels our desire to please God is a fear that we don't or won't. 

But what if the thing we feared, that indeed our life won't measure up when God comes looking, is ironically the truth of our salvation? What if, rather than trying to avoid or achieve God's expectations for our lives, we abide in them? 

I think that is a question Jesus hopes we would ask after listening to his Kingdom-illuminating story about a fruitless fruit tree. So take a minute and read an amplified version of this super short story that fills in some of the cultural and linguistic features we discussed Sunday, and see what you think.

A grape grower had a fig tree planted in his vineyard out of delight and the expectation of enjoyment rather than income. After years of caring for the tree, the master came seeking what the nutrients of his soil and his labor should have enabled the fig tree to become what it was meant to be: a tree with figs! But he found none. 

Distraught over missing out on the expected enjoyment of a healthy life in the clearly truncated existence of his precious tree, the lord of the land said to his vinedresser--the one entrusted to ensure the health and wealth of his primary crop--'Behold! These past three seasons, I've come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and I've found none. Dig it out! Why should it continue to be a heartbreak if the environment meant to enable its life leads to no life to be found?

Knowing the desire of the vineyard owner, the vinedresser replies in kind, 'Lord! Forgive it this year again. Let me try some rather unconventional gardening methods, digging around it and spreading manure. I'll be responsible for the tree, and if it bears fruit in the future, well and good; but if it remains living but not fully so, you can dig it out.

(Luke 13:6-9)

If, as Jesus implies, the expectation for our lives is to fully live into what we established to be in delight, through the delighted provision of good soil and constant care of another. If, however, as sometimes happens, our lives do not live up to their full expectations, and if in those less-than moments, we feel the heartbreak of life as it should be but isn't, and receive continued, patient, preserving labor for what it still can be. What would we call that? Wouldn't we call that love? 

John the Beloved, one of Jesus' closest friends and followers, learned to call his life in God's Kingdom (i.e., "vineyard") just that. 

So we have come to know and believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. 

By this is love perfected in us, so that we may have confidence for the day of judgment [when it's time to measure up to expectations], because as he is so also are we in this world.

There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out all fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected by love.

(1 John 4:16-19)

May you be perfected by God's love this week. Confident in whatever He finds, or doesn't, because "he first loved you...and sent his Son to be the Savior," doing everything possible to ensure that we live up to His expectations. 

 Love you, faith family! 

Something To Believe In

Dear Faith Family,  

There are few things more anxiety-heightening than being lost. Whether we find ourselves separated from our company because of inattentive self-absorption, directionally discombobulated because of miscalculation, or, perhaps worst of all, our orientation slowly suffocated as we are buried under the grim of daily living. No wonder humans have invented seemingly endless manners and contraptions to help us avoid even the potential of being lost--whether physically or in life purpose or even spiritually. 

Ironically, Jesus implies that the place we fear finding ourselves is actually the place where we are found by Him. And perhaps in an even more ironic twist, Jesus says that His finding of us, is our repentance. 

So Jesus told them this parable: 'What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open country, and go after the one that is lost, until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.'

Just so, I tell you, there will e more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance. 

Or what woman, having ten silver coins, if she loses one coin, does not light a lamp and sweep the house and seek diligently until she finds it? And when she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.'

Just so, I tell you, there is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents.'

(Luke 15:3-10)

What if we believed Jesus' double-parable vision of life in God is actually how our life in God plays out? That, indeed, our life story tells the same story of the Kingdom of God coming looking for us.

What if we believed that in order to find ourselves "at home" with Him, in His purposes and pleasures, all we need is to be in need of being found? Would we see ourselves and our days any differently? Would we see our neighbors and enemies differently? If we believed Jesus, would we see the Kingdom already coming, not just to the ones already home, but even now to the ones far away or buried? 

What if you believed the good news, that life on your own is over and life with God has found you? 

Think about that, and, as Jesus encourages, "Do not fear, only believe." (Mark 5:36)

 Love you, faith family!