Tag Archives: Jesus

On the journey – How

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This is the tricky one. Especially for us goal-oriented, success-hungry, ambitious types. For us who, almost compulsively, dive into our work. For those of us who first ask when a new idea is presented: “How will this work?”

And so we draw the second circle of our ‘trinity’ of circles. This one just on the inside of the larger ‘wow’. From the ‘wow’ we move to the ‘how’. The exuberance of youth must at some point translate into a work-able, do-able, achievable proposition. Somehow, the dream needs to have traction on the ground. We have to do something in order to make it happen. This, is the ‘how’ part of life.

But, as I said, this is the tricky stage. Because for so long we have convinced ourselves into believing that if anything good is to come in our lives, it’s because we’ve accomplished it or deserved it or earned it by our hard work.

To a degree, there is some truth here. We make decisions to the best of our judgment, hoping that we exercise discernment and wisdom. We work hard with good intentions. We are motivated to create a better society, and we act on it.

But more and more people are discovering that just because they work very hard at something, doesn’t necessarily mean they will succeed. More and more people are discovering this harsh reality on the journey of life and faith. Just because you sweat blood, sweat and tears in pursuing some ‘wow’ goal in life, doesn’t necessarily mean you will achieve it. What then?

Should we give up? Should we sit idly by and not do anything, resigned to fate? Like I said, this ‘how’ thing is tricky.

It’s also no surprise that this circle represents the second person of the Holy Trinity — Jesus. The first ‘wow’ circle was God the Father, the Creator, the beginning point. This second person of Jesus is the Saviour, the Redeemer. Jesus is the ‘how’ to journeying on the path of faith and life.

Up until this point, we may have thought that journeying in life through the ‘wows’, the ‘hows’ and the ‘nows’ was unidirectional — that it was all up to us to get it right. Jesus’ grace and presence in our lives suggests a two-way relationship. What we put into life is our approach to life and to God that says: “Thank you!” What we put into life are our efforts that don’t pretend nor presume our salvation and the salvation of the world depends on us.

Jesus won salvation for us already! He’s done the job. He’s figured out how to restore broken human relationships. Jesus offers us, and those we meet, forgiveness, grace, a new fresh start over in life — each day of our lives!

Jesus doesn’t love us because he has to; Jesus loves us because he wants to. “This frees us to simply receive that love, rather than feverishly try to make ourselves worthy of it” (p. 236, Richard Rohr, ‘On The Treshold of Transformation’).

Worth living for? Worth working for?

A mutual, loving relationship in the name of Jesus

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“I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.” (John 17:26)

Did you catch the Huffington Post article this week about the fastest growing baby names? ‘King’ and ‘Messiah’. Yes, ‘King’ and ‘Messiah’.

Expectations for our children must be growing!

While we may joke about what our names mean, the humour always reveals a glimmer of truth: Our names do reveal something of our essence. Our names are gateways into our character. People get to know us, first, by knowing our names.

My first name is Martin — I was born on Reformation Sunday (always the last Sunday in October), named after the church reformer of the 16th century, Martin Luther. And it so happens I am a Lutheran pastor!

My second name is Emanuel — which in the Hebrew language identifies God’s presence, meaning “God is with us”. In the Gospel of Matthew (1:23), Emanuel is ascribed to the coming Messiah. I like to think God is always with me.

My last name — Malina — as you may know reading this blog, means, from the Polish language, ‘raspberry’. I like to think raspberries convey sweetness.

Well, that pretty well sums it up! Now you know who I am!

What does your name signify about you? Inquiring can be both an amusing and insightful exercise.

In the Gospel reading (John 17:20-26) for this seventh Sunday after Easter, in the High Priestly Prayer, Jesus prays for the unity of his disciples present and future (that’s us!). There, we find a delightful play on words (in Greek) between ‘one’ (hen) and ‘in’ (en).

Indeed, to be one with another is to be in them. Jesus describes his intimate relationship with the Father this way. When I was a teenager in the 1980s, we used to talk like this to describe something or someone we liked — I’m in to that kind of music; or, I’m in to that person.

Our God is a relational God, to begin with. And, what is more, this relationship is characterized by affection and love. The word ‘love’ is mentioned five times in this short passage about divine and human unity.

The reciprocity of love described here necessitates some engagement on our part. We are called to respond. “In the name of Jesus”, we pray. “In the name of Jesus”, we involve ourselves in Christ’s mission on earth. “In the name of Jesus” we live, we breathe, we move and have our being. We are part of this dance with Jesus; we have a vital role to play in our relationship with God.

Because what Jesus teaches us is what is vital to any healthy relationship whether divine or human: mutuality. We speak here of a mutual relationship of love. Should Jesus live in us, which he promises to do, we engage in mutuality. That is, what you want most from this relationship with God — you first give.

If you want forgiveness, try forgiving others and yourself.

If you want love, give it to someone else.

If you want respect, show respect to God and to others.

And this concept of mutuality operates, really, in all healthy relationships — whether marriage, work, friendships, families, etc. At first, it may feel counterintuitive. Because what you want is something you may feel you lack. The paradox, however, lies in precisely the opposite: You will only receive what you think you don’t have, by giving it out to others.

But lest we get it into our heads that we must be like our ‘King’ or ‘Messiah’ — even if our names reflect such a designation! — stop, breathe, and let go of the pressure, demands and expectations of your perceived purpose in life!

The relationship of love begins when God calls us by name (Isaiah 43:1). When God says our name, we are blessed indeed. God’s voice naming us calls us back to ourselves. In the garden the morning of the resurrection, Mary mistakes Jesus for the gardener; it isn’t until Jesus speaks her name, “Mary”, when she is brought back to herself — and recognizes Jesus for who he is, the risen Son of God (John 20:16). The mutual relationship is born, and reborn, each time Jesus calls us by name.

Unlike what happens in a dance, the two partners involved in the covenant relationship with God are not entirely equal. We are not Jesus. And while in the Holy Spirit we can do great things for God and God’s mission, the first move comes from Jesus. He chose us (John 15:16). He called us by name to join in the dance. He makes the first move. Because when we slip and fall in the dance of life and love — which is bound to happen — Jesus is there to pick us right up again.

Because God loves us first.

Peace and Presence; the great reversal

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It struck me this week quite by surprise the realization that today marks the one-year anniversary of the start of our relationship. Last year, on the first Sunday in May, we began our journey together as pastor and congregation.

As I reflect over the past 12 months, I also realize how time seems to have swept by so quickly and how much has happened in that time. It’s a bitter-sweet that I suspect is felt with many anniversaries, whether wedding or birth, death or loss.

Indeed, marking any anniversary — even the joyous ones — brings a sense of loss. Because when I think back on the good times and significant events of the past year in this congregation, I feel the loss of those moments past. In others words, what’s in the past won’t and can’t happen again. And acknowledging that is not easy.

And as the Scriptures show again today in our reading and hearing of them, dealing with loss is best done in relationship. In relationship with one another, we experience the presence of God. Not by ourselves. Not in our heads. Not in words and thoughts alone. But in the quality of our real-time relationships.

Jesus was being a good pastor to his disciples. He was going to leave them, to ascend to heaven. And instead of just going, he prepared them for this loss. Jesus spoke to them about what it would mean for him to be no longer with them on earth in bodily form. He fielded all their questions.

Jesus spoke to them about how in his absence something new would be born in them and in the world. The Holy Spirit was coming in his stead. And the Spirit of God the Father and God the Son would continue to teach them about Jesus.

His disciples, understandably so, were stressed-out about this change in their lives. They were anxious about the proposition of losing Jesus. They already went through the emotional intensity of losing Jesus once before — when he died on the cross. You don’t easily embrace a negative emotion like that a second time in a short while. So, they were fearful, resistant and anxious.

Jesus brings comfort in the promise of his continued presence with them — the result of which would be peace: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid” (John 14:27). Christ’s presence brings peace.

I wondered about the ways I’ve normally sought peace, conditional upon achieving several things: stability, material security in life, a calm inner state, no conflict, everybody getting along, easing workloads, a vacation, a quiet place — the usual preconditions we place on having peace. We work so hard to get there, don’t we?

But Jesus’ peace is not as the world gives it. Why? Because Jesus promises that, through the Holy Spirit, we will know peace when we know Jesus is present in our lives, right here and right now. Even when suffering a loss, even amidst conflict and noise and distractions and disruption. Remember when Jesus walked into the locked, upper room where the disciples were hiding “for fear” (John 20:19-23). Those are precisely the contexts into which Jesus is really present.

I read this week that about 50% of all people are fear-based (p.213, Richard Rohr, ‘On the Threshold of Transformation’). The real problem, though, is that we do not acknowledge it or confess it. We disguise it as ‘prudence’, ‘good stewardship’ or ‘common sense’. Politicians, pundits, advertisers and media moguls all seem to me, anyway, invested in ratcheting up people’s sense of panic, because they know how well it works. This leads many church leaders to echo what Michael Harvey claims as the only socially acceptable sin in the church today: fear (p.52, ‘Unlocking the Growth’).

Such unacknowledged turmoil will control us. Is it any wonder, then, that the New Testament warns us more than eighty times to avoid fear? Jesus is constantly encouraging his disciples: “Fear not!” “Be not afraid!” “Do not let your hearts be troubled!” And yet, how many times have we heard any Christian accuse another of the sin of fear?

Returning to relationships, perhaps we are fearful of punishment. And therefore we try to deny our sin and keep it hidden from others, even God.

When I recently found the courage to tell a friend about something I try to hide from people, generally — a bad habit, honestly, I’m kinda embarrassed about — I felt vulnerable. And there was a part of me that wondered if they would still want to be my friend after knowing this little secret of mine. I was afraid my friend might think less of me as a result.

When they continued to relate to me as if nothing like that would hinder our friendship, I experienced a bit of grace. I was reminded of what Jesus said and what he is all about. It made me think about how important it is to trust in God’s love, forgiveness and grace. Because the more I am convinced that Jesus forgives me and that his grace is a pure gift to me out of the abundance of God’s love — the more courage I find to face those dark, hidden places in my life, and confess them!

So, it’s reversed. If I focus on the punishment by sin, I will stay fearful and in denial. But God’s unconditional grace precedes anything I can do, good and bad. Living in trust and belief of God’s love — first and foremost — I am therefore empowered to be authentically me, warts and all!

When we experience the power of God’s healing grace in our lives, it doesn’t mean we won’t suffer loss and grief anymore. It means that God will be made manifest in our lives anew precisely in those moments of weakness and vulnerability. God, in Jesus Christ, will be present to us in our mutual relationships where we are honest, open and trusting with one another.

And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will keep our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus our Lord (Philippians 4:7). Thanks be to God!

The Glory of God

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Just ten days after the attacks in Boston, one of the victims gave a chilling testimony to the media about what happened in the moments after the bombs exploded.

She and others standing at the bar overlooking the street were blown off their feet and against the wall. Then, she remembered the smoke and screams which reminded her of 9-11. In an unwavering voice she spoke of how her foot suddenly felt like it was on fire, and she couldn’t put any weight on it.

Everyone started running for the back door of the bar. She called out for someone to help her, because she couldn’t move. She recalled how frightened she felt because no one seemed to be listening to her pleas for help. And then, everything went dark.

Reflecting on the trauma we watched on TV last week, my wife and I have talked about what we might have done if we found ourselves on that sidewalk in Boston watching the race when the bombs went off. Had we not been physically damaged by the shrapnel what would we have done? Started running away, focused on escaping the mayhem? Would we have been primarily motivated by self-preservation?

Or, would we have looked around us? Would we pay attention to where the greatest need was, and offer help? Would we have run against the crowd?

I must confess, I didn’t imagine I would be so altruistic and ready to help. I must confess, I would likely be one of those people running headlong to that back door focused on nothing else but getting out.

And for us Christians who have received Christ’s commandment “that we love one another,” we may be embarrassed, as I have been, at how poorly we put this command into practice.

In the Gospel passage today (John 13:31-35), we hear Jesus’ commandment to love. And what I find remarkable is that Jesus gives this commandment precisely at a time when everything but love was swirling about him. It was the night before his arrest and crucifixion. Jesus was a marked man. A target was on his back. And while Jesus was eating the Passover Meal with his disciples, Judas had just slipped out from the group to carry out his dastardly deed to betray Jesus.

And right after Jesus speaks the commandment to love, Peter falsely predicted that he would always be faithful and committed to Jesus – we know later that Peter denied knowing Jesus three times.

So Jesus command to love is spoken right in the very midst of betrayal and violence. Not an easy situation in which to be preaching or practising love.

But it is precisely at these times when it matters the most. Jesus calls us to do this not in some abstract, ideal, fantasy world when it’s easy to love, but rather in the real world of violence and broken-ness. And that’s not easy.

This is one reason why we need to gather for worship from week to week –

We need to hear over and over again God’s good news in the midst of all around us that is un-loving.

We need to hear once more the story of the resurrection, the affirmation that life and God’s love is more powerful than death and sin.

We need to hear once more God’s undying love for us all, so that we can be strengthened to practice love toward others, when it counts the most.

I find it significant that we read the word “glory” some five times in this short Gospel text. Odd – even counter-intuitive – you would think, that “glory” is associated with the pretext of Jesus’ suffering and death. Perhaps this emphasis on the glory of God is to underscore that love is not just some Valentine’s Day, romantic, warm fuzzy feeling shared between people in a comfortable, safe place.

Love, on the other hand, is in the Christian faith, self-giving. It is something realized, and practiced, for others – especially when the going gets tough.

As difficult as it is, coming to that place of self-giving love often, in the testimony of people’s lives, happens right in the valley of the shadow of death: amidst loss, stress, disappointment, suffering and pain. The transformation people experience towards a renewed sense of God’s love in Christ Jesus occurs usually at their lowest point in life.

For a long time, the accumulation of personal wealth was the single most important goal for Millard Fuller. During the 1960s, making a pile of money was his singular goal from which he never wavered. Amassing a personal fortune, Fuller was the ultimate “success” story.

But he paid a high price for this. Fuller admitted later how it affected his personal integrity, his health, and his marriage. When his wife Linda left him and informed him that his Lincoln, the large house, the cottage on the lake, two speed boats and a maid did not make up for his absence from his family, he realized what he had sacrificed for money.

It was at that moment when a transformation occurred in his life – when he began focussing less on himself and more on others, more on living out God’s great love for himself, and for others.

In 1976, Millard Fuller founded Habitat for Humanity, one of the most transforming forces around the world today, drawing on local volunteers to build houses for those who have need.

From someone who was once only focussed on himself, Fuller was transformed to someone focussed on others, living out Jesus’ commandment to love one another. “I love God and I love people,” Fuller says now, “this is the focus of my life, and that is why I am doing it.”

I like the story of two young boys playing church. One of them was explaining to the other what all the parts of the liturgy were about.

“So, do you know what the pastor does at the end of the service when he does this?” And he made the sign of the cross.

“Yeah, sure,” the other boy chimed in, “it means some go this way out and the others go that way out!”

The boy was right. The cross sends us out and scatters us out into the world with Christ’s command to love, where we would least expect to do so. The really important thing for any church is not how many people the church can seat, but how many it sends out to love in real, practical ways. A self-giving love, in moments of human hardship, is the glory of God.

The victim of the Boston attacks who recently spoke to the media was told some days after her foot was amputated how she was rescued from the mayhem of that smoke-filled bar. She was told of how a couple of people risked their own lives to drag her to safety. Those two people resisted the temptation to run en masse with everyone else. They had the presence of mind to look around to see if anyone needed help. Amidst the chaos, they were able to express the love that Jesus was talking about, whether they knew it or not.

Glory be to God!

Where is God?

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Where do we look for God when tragedy strikes? When bombs go off in public squares killing and maiming innocent lives? Where is God?

The Psalmist expresses what, in the Bible, is a consistent divine message whenever we find ourselves “in the valley of the shadow of death” (Psalm 23:4):

Through the Psalmist God says, “Fear no evil …” How is that possible? Is this some trite expression oozing from the lips of a feel-good religionist?

The Psalmist does not deny the reality of evil nor its capacity to wreak mayhem. Yet, despite the real threat of evil, the Psalmist has adopted a resolute stance: No Fear.

But why are we not to be afraid? On what grounds are we not to fear? Is it because the police are already on the scene? Is it because enhanced surveillance methods will allow law enforcement officials to identify the perpetrators more quickly and effectively? Is it because our military has new tools to exact vengeance so that the ‘bad guys’ will never hurt anyone again? Is this why we should not fear?

Our reaction to terror over the last twelve years hasn’t really gotten rid of this fear, has it? A hard-hitting, “shock-and-awe” response was widely thought to be the tonic for getting us over our fear and punishing our enemies. Has it worked?

I suspect we are still very, very fearful. The events in Boston over the last six days have proven it to me. And yet, God’s message comes again: “Do not fear …” Why?

“…. for You are with me.” It’s the core claim of biblical faith that there is but one God and that all trust belongs to that God. We are in a relationship of grace with God. We aren’t alone, even in that valley.

Perhaps we need to confess that when trouble comes we compulsively try to find solace in every place but the proper one. We tend to look for God in places that do not, in the end, communicate the transforming power of God’s love in Jesus Christ. We tend, do we not, to look for God in places of our own doing — efforts and demonstrations of power and influence: Our successes; Our praise-worthy accomplishments; Our ‘winning’ at the game of life? Are these the places where Jesus will find us with his transforming love?

In the Gospel text, Jesus is walking under the Portico of Solomon in the temple at Jerusalem. This was the sheltered walkway — a natural place for someone to find refuge on a cold, blustery, winter’s day. But to leave it there would be to miss the significance of where Jesus was found:

This portico lined the perimeter of the temple. Jesus was walking around the outer edge of the temple during the Dedication. The Dedication was the annual festival celebrating the political triumph of the Maccabean revolt that restored Jewish control of the temple following its desecration by Antiochus IV in 167 B.C.E. So, being at the temple itself was a big deal on this very holy day.

And where one stood in the temple was significant. The Holy of Holies was at the centre of the temple, where only the High Priest entered once a year. The farther “out” from the centre, the less important you were. Conversely, the closer to the centre of the temple building you were allowed to go, the higher status you held in the religious world of the day.

Jesus was not where we might initially think he should be; that is, closer to the Holy of Holies. Instead, he was in that part of the temple where the common people were allowed to enter.

Where does God choose to be revealed? In places we would not normally look for God. Jesus was born in a manger, not in a palace. Jesus died on a cross, a criminal of the state, not on a comfortable bed surrounded by adoring loved ones and the best medical attention. How could God be like that?

Yet, this is Jesus — the God we worship and confess as our Lord and Saviour. If we are looking for positive change in our lives, if we seek personal transformation, if we yearn for a new beginning and resurrection in our lives — then we cannot jump from Palm Sunday (Hosanna!) to Easter (Alleluia!) and bypass Good Friday (The Cross!).

Success doesn’t come without embracing failure. New life doesn’t come without losing something precious. Receiving doesn’t happen without giving.

Some of us with children have expressed concern about all the horrific images they  may see on TV news reports over the past week from Boston. The vivid and terrible images of devastation on a sidewalk could be traumatic, for anyone, to watch over and over again. What can we say to our children who could be adversely affected and overcome by fear, by watching this?

“Do not be afraid”, for focus your attention on those who are helping. Look at the first-responders as they risk their own lives in a chaotic, uncertain and dangerous environment providing care, love and compassion to the victims. “… for You are with me.”

Where is God? God is revealed in places where we would least expect. And in those moments of human frailty and weakness — not by denying our wounds and pretending we can by our efforts alone be perfect and invincible — God is with us. Jesus’ wounded hands will hold us. God will not abandon us in our greatest sorrow and vulnerability. In those places — on the ‘perimeter’, on the edge, of our lives — God will bring us to the fullness of life.

Thanks to Timothy F. Simpson, “The 23rd Psalm in an Age of Terror: A Pastoral Response to Boston”, posted on 16 April 2013.

Game, set and match to Jesus!

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I’ve come to realize that Lent is good for me. And do you know why? Lent is a season for confession. So here’s one of mine: Lent is not exactly my favorite season of the church year.

But that’s precisely why it’s good for me. Because I initially react negatively to it, perhaps there’s something there to which I need to pay attention. It’s the same as saying, the only way for you to overcome some fear, is not to avoid it but to face it. And go there.

I suppose there is some consolation in believing that if we’re never challenged in our faith, if it never means we struggle with it, if it’s always supposed to be sugar-sweet and easy, if the real bad stuff happens out there with other evil people and never within me – well, in all honesty and truth – red flags should be going up all over the place.

Indeed, the kind of sins and temptations are very personal to you and to me. And subtle. And easily missed.

How is Jesus tempted? You’ll notice the temptations are not bad in and of themselves, really (Luke 4:1-13). The devil doesn’t tempt Jesus to commit murder or genocide, or destroy the lives of good people by duping them into some ponzi scheme, or sell drugs, or do some awful, despicable, unconscionable thing we see continually in our media. At the same time, they are not of the trite, superficial variety we hear about in our so-called Lenten disciplines: the devil is not tempting Jesus with chocolate.

The man has been fasting for forty days. Surely a loaf of bread is okay? Even the most rigid of diets and fasts include some basic, regular consumption.

Then, the world. We know the corruption and evil surrounding the rule of Herod in Jesus’ day and age. A change in government would be a good thing, especially one ruled by Jesus, eh? You would think.

And finally, the temple. What with the priests, Pharisees, Levites and religious leaders of the day missing God’s point so often and corrupting the spiritual and worship life of people by their control and manipulative designs – Jesus taking over by displaying the power of God in the temple would go a long way in cleansing the place, turning it around. Wouldn’t you say? Jesus in charge! Yeah! Good idea!

The temptations address the person. And Jesus is the Son of God, not something contested by the devil, you’ll notice. The temptations are meant merely to distract Jesus, throw him off course.

The temptations are essentially given to undermine Jesus’ trust in God the Father. The temptations don’t deal with who Jesus is so much as what kind of Jesus will emerge from the desert: one that acts on his own timeline, or one that waits and obeys the timing and guidance of God the Father.

Because remember, Jesus does make bread to feed the hungry; Jesus does engage the political realm preaching the coming of God’s kingdom on earth; Jesus does let go and hang on the cross trusting the angels and presence of God the Father right to the end. In the end, Jesus does in essence what the devil tempted him in the desert. But with one huge difference: not according to anyone else’s strength and timeline other than God’s.

Game, set and match to Jesus!

I think we can say the same for ourselves: What is truly dangerous temptation for us has more to do with whatever may distract us from God’s purpose for our lives. Careful discernment is required here. It may not be obvious. In fact, it may first present itself as a good thing in and of itself: Some common sense notions we live by day to day. But are they part of God’s purposes? Is it the right time? Humility is also required in this journey.

We are not Jesus. So much in the popular Christian culture today suggests that we should be like Jesus. “What Would Jesus Do? WWJD” – do you wear the bracelet? Yes, Martin Luther said we are “little christs”. But emphasis on little, please.

Because Luther was very clear to say: We cannot presume to be like Jesus in his moral perfection. Because we aren’t! When we try to be like Jesus we lean on our own strength. When we try to be like Jesus we may easily end up believing we must earn God’s favor by our good works. This is not the Gospel. We are missing the point.

Being faithful Christians we will fail in our efforts, in our striving. Then, when we do fail – what do we do, what happens, what do we believe?

Are we unworthy of God’s love and favor? Will be burn in hell for our mistakes? Will God punish us? Will we give up? Will we say, “This is not for me?” and turn our back on church? Will we despair and continue knocking ourselves down in self-rejection? I think we are familiar with this line of reasoning – and where that spirit of obsessive, fatalistic guilt takes us. And that’s not a good place. Because I don’t think that reasoning leads to a vital, energetic and committed ministry to feed the poor and proclaim the Lord’s favor shouting from the rooftops – “Christ is Lord!”

It is simply in trusting Jesus amidst our weakness and imperfection where the Gospel has powerful witness to the world. All we need to do is to accept Jesus is with us, to help us, to guide us. All we need to do, is trust. And not give up on the path.

An ancient proverb is told of a servant whose duty was to draw water from the river at dawn when it was still mostly dark, and carry a bucket-full up a winding, rocky path to the mansion where his master lived. Alas! His bucket had a crack in it. And each time he brought water up the path he lost most of it.

Curiously, the servant noticed his master standing at the door of the mansion watching him every day carry this water up the path, spilling most of it. And yet, the servant was able to see a broad, loving smile on his master’s face. Daily, the servant would drop to his knees when he reached the top.

At his master’s feet the servant would express his remorse at failing to do his job, bringing only half a bucket-full of water each time he climbed the path. The master listened lovingly, invited him inside for breakfast, and encouraged him to try again the next day. Which the servant did, faithfully, for the entire season.

When the river froze over, and the last half-bucket full was brought up the path, and once again the servant expressed his shame, sorrow and regret, the master invited him inside to share in a special feast to mark the end of the season and beginning of a new one. On the table spread with the finest breads, vegetables, cheeses and meats, he found bouquets of flowers of the most wondrous varieties and colors.

The servant gasped at the heavenly sight and asked his master, “From where did you find these beautiful flowers?” “Come, follow me,” the master said, “and see for yourself.” The master led the servant back to the front door just as the sun was rising, illuminating the pathway down to the river. And on both sides of the path the flowers were growing, able to do so because of the water that had daily leaked out from the servant’s cracked bucket.

As we follow the path of our Lenten discipline let’s keep our eyes fixed on our master Jesus. Jesus knows our limitations, our failures, our sins because he walked that path to the Cross and bore all our sins. He knows intimately this rocky, dark path that we tread.

He also sees that nothing is wasted. No effort too small or too great is missed by God’s gracious gaze. Whatever we do, no matter how seemingly insignificant, has eternal implications. And won’t we be surprised when we enter that glorious heavenly feast and see it all!

We made the sign of the cross on our foreheads with ash this past week. Some may think as I once did, “how morbid and negative!”

But the path we tread is not about achieving perfection, but about not giving up. So, continue on the path returning to the Lord day after day this Lenten season, doing what we may. But keeping our vision, our focus, on Jesus even when we fail. And then see what happens.

Hope springs eternal. Surprise!

1gift4good

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During Advent, we prepare to receive the greatest gift of the season – the gift of Jesus. And the living Jesus guides us today to be generous to others in our gift-giving.

To celebrate our gracious giving both in small and big ways, please submit into the gift box on the altar at Faith Lutheran Church in Ottawa a small piece of paper on which you write your special “one gift” – a random act of kindness you did (e.g., gave an empty parking spot to someone else, gave a cup of coffee to a homeless person, volunteered at the food bank, helped carry parcels for someone, spend time with a loved one, gave money to support an important mission, etc.).

During the Christmas Eve and Day services, some of these “gifts for good” will be read out (anonymously) – all to signify the unconditional character of gift-giving in Jesus’ name.

It’ll be our collective present to Jesus. Thank you!