Covenant: a relationship of truthfulness and fidelity

In order to learn the faith, many Christians of the first centuries traveled into the desert of North Africa to the monasteries where the solitary monks lived and worked. There, a kind of contract was made between disciple and teacher.

On the disciple’s side, he or she promised to be completely open with the master — trusting to tell the truth about everything going on in her or his life. This wouldn’t always be easy — to make oneself vulnerable, to lay one’s emotional life down on the line, and to confess those secrets harbored deep in the recesses of the heart.

On the other side, the teacher promised to be faithful to the disciple and never abandon them in their journey of learning, discernment and maturity — through all the struggles that journey would bring. There was nothing the student could say about themselves or what they were thinking that would shaken or jeopardize the steadfast faithfulness of the teacher.

This contract between disciple and teacher was one of truthfulness and fidelity. From the early days of Christianity, learning the faith thus represented came to express the relationship Christians have with Jesus. Jesus is our Teacher, our Master, the Lord of all.

Discipleship means to follow Jesus. For us to follow in the Way of Jesus, are we not called upon to be completely truthful and honest to God about who we are? Personal, spiritual growth is enhanced when we are honest and vulnerable with each other and with Jesus in prayer.

Since the Scriptures were written down, the concept of Covenant has been used to describe the relationship between God and God’s people. This ancient, early Christian understanding from the Desert Fathers and Mothers can help us grasp how we relate to God.

A conviction of God’s everlasting, unwavering faithfulness to us opens the door of our hearts to be completely truthful about not only the good and righteous parts of our lives but especially the dark parts we normally wish to hide from others.

Thank you to Laurence Freeman for giving this example about the contract between disciple and teacher in his taped dialogue with the Dalai Lama in January 2013

A mutual, loving relationship in the name of Jesus

“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.

A Prayer for Christians in Syria

Let us pray,

Though we may be separated by thousands of kilometers and decades of memory, on this day and at this time we lift our hearts in your presence, O God, in solidarity with our sisters and brothers in faith in the Holy Lands. Especially we pray for the Christians of Syria.

In their pain, in their fear, in their anger and anxiety – you show them the wound in your side and marks of torture in your hands. Come close to all who suffer in any way, so that we may come close to you, who knows our every thought, fear, pain and anger.

May we share in the new life you have made possible for us. By the power of your Spirit, may we do what we can across the oceans and the ages to bear witness to the hope, faith, peace and love you would have for all people, in Christ Jesus our living God.
Amen

Unworthy (and worthy!)

Remember the “tech bubble” that collapsed thirteen years ago? What about the “housing bubble” of 2007 in the United States, and a second “tech bubble” some see looming now; not to mention housing prices in Canada? Is the bubble going to burst? Again?

But what about another bubble that we may be even more apprehensive to talk about – the decline of “establishment Christianity” North America? One congregation at a time, one closed school, one left-behind building, and even many mega-churches that are shattering like the walls of a bubble.

You may react – that I am being overly negative and it’s really not all that bad so long as we can continue to spin our wheels, try to turn the clock back to 1950 and do things the way they used to be done in the past.

Do we consider the institutional church in 2013 a tree that will stand forever, a house built on solid rock, the very apple of God’s eye?

Jesus told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none.” (Luke 13.6)

In our individual, personal lives, bubbles burst all the time. Are you one of the very people whose bubbles are now bursting? Broken relationships. Ill-health. Financial ruin. Underemployment. Shattered dreams. Tragedy.

Indeed, the human condition is broken. Ever since the Fall, sin has steeped into the very fabric of our earthly existence.

According the Lutheran belief, even our good intentions and actions are tainted and ineffectual. In our weekly liturgy, we confess “that we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves” (“Evangelical Lutheran Worship”, p.95, emphasis mine). There’s nothing we – by ourselves – can do to make things better. Older liturgies are even more hard-hitting: the “Book of Common Prayer” in the Anglican Church has it: “We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy table” (p.83). I am sure Lutherans can point to old prayer and liturgy books that basically suggest we are no better than worms crawling in the mud.

Let’s be careful in how we respond to the question of sin. For one thing, in the Gospel text today (Luke 13:1-9), Jesus rejects the kind of thinking that is easy: focusing on the sins of others as explanation, justification, for the bad things that happen. In response to the Pharisees, Jesus turns the question to them. You must repent for your sins.

In the baptismal liturgy of our church, we renounce the devil and all his empty promises – three times. When we declare together that we “renounce” the devil, we are also renouncing “all the forces that defy God” and “the powers of this world that rebel against God” (EvLW, p.229).

Not only is sin active in our individual lives – but in the world around us: in economic, political, social, religious institutions. Sin is not only individual; it is corporate. Sin is something we can do together in an organization, collectively. Admittedly it’s easier to point to a random, individual act. It’s convenient and easier to explain individual behavior gone bad. It’s much more ambiguous, complex and difficult to see sin as something shared in a group.

What do we, as a church, need to confess?

Are we counting on bubbles? Are we riding on the coat tails of previous generations of the faithful? Are we trying to draw closer to God without allowing God closer to us? Do we try to save ourselves through work and possessions? Do we ration our affections, pulling back from a deeply troubled world, staying inside where it is safe, praying when we feel like it, listening as little as possible, singing our songs and not God’s songs, treasuring our kind and not God’s people? (Thank you to Tom Ehrich for this insight and these words – from his blog, “On a Journey – Meditations on God in Daily Life”, Feb 27/2013).

Amidst the doom and gloom there is hope. The passage ends with hope. In the confession there is the realization of God’s mercy. Amidst the urgency to get things done, to do the right thing, to toil in all our striving, we are invited to pause. To stop, for a moment. Why?

Because we are that fig tree. Barren. Failed. Unworthy – or so it would seem (from the world’s perspective). Jesus is the gardener, who sees in us something worthy of grace. Jesus advocates on our behalf, to give us another chance. A holy, second chance. Jesus continues to work at the root of our lives, applying grace upon grace, getting his hands dirty – for us. Jesus will not give up on us.

In this dependence on God for all good things, we have to realize one, very important truth: It is not we who accomplish our growth, our life. All we need to do, is open our hearts, the ground of our being – as roots – to receive the nourishment of God’s grace. All we need to do, is look up to the sunshine, warming our being, inviting us to reach outward.

It is Jesus’ love for us that accomplishes whatever good that may come from our efforts. It is God’s work of love that accomplished our salvation in Jesus. I heard recently a wonderful quote from a teacher of Christian prayer: that God will not judge us according to our sins and failings, but for all the gifts we refused from the gracious hand of God. Our judgment is not based on our sinning – since we all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23) – but because we have refused, rejected and turned from the grace and love that God offers us anew, every day. Because God is giving us a second chance. What are we doing about that?

We yearn for more. Polls and studies reveal that people are hungry for God. Maybe it will take a cascade of bursting bubbles for us to see how little fruit we have yielded, how much God desires of us, and how lovingly God will work on our behalf for real life and love for all, not for bubbles.

Holy Place: A Lenten Exercise

A hymn we often sing during Lent and Holy Week, “Beneath the Cross of Jesus”, leads us into an appreciation of physical space.

The title of the hymn suggests that we view Jesus from a certain standpoint, a particular perspective — at the foot of the Cross. It is from this spot on the earth that we look up to Jesus and see what he is doing for us. From this inner stance, we express our faith in the Holy One who died on that Cross to fulfill his Call of Love for us and for the whole world.

The Gospel message of Jesus finds its grounding, its rooting, in the Cross. Of course, we know the end of the story. But even the message of new life, of resurrection, fresh starts, new beginnings emerges from that original place – beneath the Cross of Jesus.

An awareness of where we are, brings us into the holy. The Lenten season is about recognizing a holy place where God meets us and we meet God.

In developing a theme of “A Holy Place”, I invite you to reflect on one space and place in your life you have considered “holy”. Describe it: What surrounded you? Was there anyone with you? What were you doing – being still, physically, or active? What did you sense in this place – smells, sounds, tastes, visions? What happened in the time you were in this place? How did you feel?

And then, consider what about this “holy place” reflects the character of God? Is it quiet or noisy? Funny or serious? Solemn or filled with laughter? Is it in some way gentle and sweet, powerful and overwhelming, or busy and active? Did the holy place come to you quite unexpectedly, like a surprise, or by accident? Or was it the result of an intentional discipline and preparation on your part? What is it about God that this holy place teaches you?

Finally, consider a biblical text, scriptural quote or story from the bible that enhances, converges with and affirms your experience of God in this holy place. Conclude with a short prayer.

Thank God, during Lent, for that holy place.

Once you’ve thought about it, would you, sometimes during the Lenten season, tell someone about your holy place?

Mixed up Christians?

A popular term I’ve heard recently in business circles, as well as in various political attempts to solve conflicts dealing with teacher contracts and Aboriginal-First Nations disputes is: “results-based management.”

A simple Google search will reveal what results-based management principles and strategies are all about. As I understand it, it is a performance driven approach to leadership, bottom-line economics, and mediation. It seems to me, such an approach pre-judges the outcome of an encounter between people who differ in some respect. Its success relies heavily on the exercise of power and who has more of it.

I wonder, though, how results-based management styles square with principles drawn from the more organic approach described in Paul’s illustration of a community of faith being like a human body (1 Corinthians 12:12-31). I doubt the interaction of body parts will display health and vigor if one part lords it over another. I wonder if results-based management allows for the possibility of an outcome that neither party pre-meditated and pre-determined prior to their interaction.

The focus of prayer during this year’s Week of Prayer for Christian Unity is India. And at last year’s Luther Hostel in Waterloo I learned about some very critical aspects of India’s geography. One of those geographic wonders is the Sundarbans delta in India and Bangladesh.

The Sundarbans delta comprises of a giant estuary. Estuaries are borderlands that are continuously interlaced by the rivers on one side and lashed by the ocean on the other. The Sundarbans is the largest river delta in the world and is bordered by the largest estuarine mangrove forest in the world. It is marked by the coming together of the River Ganges and the Indian Ocean.

This estuary receives two environments that do not blend together easily. Variations in temperature, salinity, and murkiness create downright havoc in the delta. Instability is characteristic of this delta.

But this variability also proves its greatest strength.

The Sundarbans serve as the home for a large variety of animals, among them some endangered species. It’s home to the largest population of Royal Bengal tigers in India and also some of the world’s largest crocodiles, which can get to be over twenty feet long and big enough to hold two grown men. Within the forest bordering the estuary live some fifty species of mammals, about 320 species of inland and migratory birds, about fifty species of reptiles, eight species of amphibians, and about 400 species of fish. They are the breeding grounds for several species of fish and serve as nurseries.

The productivity of an estuary is estimated to be eight times that of agricultural land because of the rich organic material that the river brings in due to the give-and-take in the mixing of river and ocean.

It is no wonder that the word “Sundarbans” means “beautiful jungle” in Bengalese; the paradox of it all: How can a jungle be beautiful? And yet, it is.

Estuaries, in general, are “the schools where lessons of life are taught, where one’s eyes are opened to the reality of the world. They are margins where there is an unveiling, where revelation takes place.” (Mary Joy Philip)

This is a natural example of the mixing of two very different components resulting in a hybrid environment — a new reality. And this new reality can produce so much good for the world.

The positive consequence of mixing two distinct entities is not dilution or dissolving of those entities. For some species that cannot adapt to that changing environment it means total extinction. But for those that can adapt, the result is a transformation which is vital, giving rise to an entirely new, vigorous reality for both.

I think it is possible for distinct beings — whether those beings are groups in society at odds with one another, members of a family, business team, religious or political community in conflict, or a society struggling with its open diversity — to engage one another productively.

But in this coming together, no one can pre-meditate, and manage towards a result that either party wants. The effect and consequence of coming together in mutual respect and as equal creatures, we cannot forsee. But we are in this thing together. And it is only together, not apart, where the solution lies.

Mix it up together, we must.

Paying faith forward

David Wilkerson is known most for writing the story, The Cross and the Switchblade. At a meeting I attended recently, a church leader read for our opening devotions the true story about David Wilkerson when he was involved in an outreach ministry in New York in the 1960s:

When a mortgage payment came due on a youth center in Brooklyn, David needed fifteen thousand dollars. The ministry’s bank account only held fourteen. Fourteen dollars, that is.

The “impossible” mortgage payment was due August 28. As the date drew near, Wilkerson expected God to do something huge and wonderful to save the center. But nothing happened.

The deadline arrived, and they still lacked the money. The bankers were ready to foreclose on the Teen Challenge operation. Wilkerson worried that he had run out of miracles.

But he pushed on, nevertheless. He asked his lawyer to seek an extension from the bank. Which was granted; the new date was September 10th. But that date was final. The lawyer asked David about his plan to raise the money. “I’m going to pray about it,” Wilkerson responded.

Then he decided to call together the staff and all the young people in the center – former drug addicts and gang members – and he told them that the center … had been saved.

Cheering rocked the place. “Let’s go to the chapel and thank God!” he urged. They did, praising the Lord for the money. Someone finally asked him where the money had come from.

Wilkerson shook his head. “Oh, it hasn’t come in yet, but by September 10th it will come. I just thought we ought to thank God ahead of time.” (William Petersen, 100 Amazing Answers to Prayer, Baker Publishing 2009, p.181-184).

To make a long story short – the ministry center did receive enough money to cover the mortgage payment by the due date, in dramatic fashion nonetheless.

But what strikes me in this story was not so much that the exact amount needed was actually delivered at the 11th hour, so to speak, as an answer to prayer. Because rarely does effective prayer result in exactly what we wish for. In prayer, we do not manipulate God.

Rather, what stands out for me in that story was that the celebration and commitment to praise God came before the money was fully realized. In other words they didn’t wait until after they raised all the money to praise and thank God: they offered their thanksgiving, truly, in faith, as an act of unconditional love for God. Their relationship with God was not contingent on things going the way they wanted – on answered prayer, as such. Their positive act of giving thanks to God was expressed like “paying it forward”; that is, paying faith forward.

Such examples of believing in the power of prayer can seem otherworldly and irrational to us. And understandably so.

In the world we normally have to earn our way to glory; we have to prove ourselves before the reward comes. And only if others prove themselves worthy in some way will we return the favor. It was only after my neighbor shoveled my half of the driveway early in the winter season before I was moved to do the same for him since. Tit for tat – even in being gracious.

This kind of ‘conditional culture’ – which operates at so many levels of our relational, economic, political, social and even religious lives – is really based on a negative, self regard. Our media’s emphasis on ‘perfection’ – you know, perfect bodies, beautiful-looking people, the most expensive cars, gadgets, and properties splashed continually on our TV screens and magazine covers – results in a lot of personal let down, if not downright self-rejection and hatred: “I’m not good enough”; “I’m ugly”; “I’m an awful person”; “I’m not worth it”; “I don’t matter to anyone.”

Have you ever listened to your own self-talk? When you are by yourself, what do you say (maybe even out loud) under your breath when something doesn’t work, or you’re stumped, or something breaks? Might be a helpful exercise. Because it would reveal a lot about how you relate to yourself. And how you relate to yourself will translate and project into your relationships with others, and God.

Even though in Luke’s Gospel, his version of Jesus’ baptism is very short (compared to Matthew, Mark, and Johns’ versions of the same story) – only 2 verses – Luke does not hold back the words God the Father has for Jesus: “You are my beloved son with whom I am well pleased” – echoing the words from Isaiah: “You are precious in my sight, and I love you!” Of all the details Luke could have mentioned (in comparison to the other Gospel accounts) about this story, he definitely sounds loudly this theme of God “paying it forward” to Jesus.

Maybe, from the world’s perspective, God should have waited until after Jesus defeated the devil by dying on the cross and rising from the dead … before praising him.

Maybe, from the world’s perspective, God should have waited until Jesus actually accomplished that which he had been called, baptized and ordained to do on earth … before offering him his due accolades.

Maybe, from the world’s perspective, God ought to have waited until Jesus returned to sit at the right hand of God in heavenly glory … before offering him his just deserts. After all, to receive grace and compassion and love and adoration one must first be deserving of it, right?

Not God; God doesn’t wait for anything. God speaks those gracious, affirming, empowering, unconditionally-loving words long before Jesus takes his first step towards Jerusalem and the Cross.

And that’s how God and Jesus are with us. Call it, if you will, shooting first and asking questions later; and God ‘shoots’ with grace not with bullets!

Let me quote John Leith, a Presbyterian professor and theologian, who said that every human life is rooted in the will and intention of God. I quote him: “In baptism the child’s name is called because our faith is that God thought of this child before the child was, that God gave to this child an identity, an individuality, a name, and a dignity that no one should dare abuse. Human existence has its origin not in the accidents of history and biology, but in the will and the intention of the Lord God, creator of heaven and earth” (“An Awareness of Destiny” in Pilgrimage of a Presbyterian, Louisville KY, Geneva Press, 2001, p.126-127)

The truth is, we need to hear this affirmation from one another. We need to hear it from God. And we need to speak it to ourselves. Long before we prove anything. Long before we have all the money. Long before we earn it. These are life-giving words that each person on earth should hear, unconditionally: “You are my child, whom I love and with you I am well pleased!”

When Jesus hears those words, his life changes forever. He is empowered by those words to go forth and do what he must do and be who he is called to be, for the sake of the world.

Those words will do the same for us, for our children, our neighbors, our spouses, our church members, and even, as Jesus promised, our enemies. You DO matter. You ARE worth it. You ARE beloved and beautiful. You ARE precious, and God loves you. And I pray you know that kind of unconditional love from others in your life as well.

Because the unconditional affirmation and love of God and of one another is the source of our true identity and purpose in life. And these affirmations are the most enduring joys of the abundant life Jesus wants for each one of us.

Who needs a deadline?

Whether it was averting a fiscal cliff south of the border, or imposing a contract in a labor dispute between Ontario teachers and government at the first of the New Year, or wondering if the Mayans were right about the winter solstice on December 21st, or salvaging an NHL season by first determining a drop-dead date in mid-January …

It seems that things only get done in our world if we have a deadline. Without one, could we make progress and agree on anything? I know some people, myself included, sometimes need a deadline to finish what we need to finish.

What does a deadline achieve? For one, it puts pressure on the situation to force a resolution. Without the weight of pressure and threat of complete breakdown of stability, some would argue that nothing would ever get accomplished.

On the other hand, especially when people are in conflict, some say that pressure of the deadline needs to be endured — getting over the hump, so to speak — in order for cooler heads to prevail and a more relaxed atmosphere in which to make the right decisions. Even if it means a complete breakdown of the system for a time being.

I’ve felt, over the last year has hung the shroud of the proverbial ‘deadline’. Will it come, or will it go? And what will it be like after?

Having a deadline means there must be, at the end of it, a winner and a loser. Deadlines amid conflict mean people will fight so that they will not end up the loser. Dead-line conveys precisely how the word is constructed: There’s a death, and lines are drawn.

Lines that communicate exclusion; that is, not everyone belongs in the winner’s circle, not everyone gets the glory. It presumes a Machiavellian world view where one person’s gain is another person’s loss.

And I wonder how many people are really satisfied at the end of such a process. Even the so-called winners. A pretty negative world-view, I would say.

There’s very little about this culture of the deadline that squares with the Christmas and Epiphany stories from the Bible.

After all, those magi weren’t on a deadline, where they? Think about it — they wandered far from home across a desert following a star. What would have happened if they said, “Let’s just give this until January 11th, or December 21, or December 31 at midnight — and if that star hasn’t stopped by then, let’s go home!”?

What motivated those travelers from the East?

Hope. Expectation. Anticipation. An openness without deadline, destination or schedule in mind. Why?

Because they knew that at the end of it there was going to be nothing but a victory for them. In meeting the Messiah, there was no way in heaven or on earth they or anyone else would lose.

Epiphany means that, even as a child, Jesus is for all people, not just the chosen few. Jesus is for the outsiders. Jesus comes to earth in order to draw people together — magi from the East, Syrians from the north, Egyptians from the south, Romans from the West. All compass points are covered by God’s loving welcome.

Throughout the Old Testament God uses foreigners, outsiders, and women — who are often the least expected and sometimes most unsavory characters to fulfill God’s will: Cyrus of Persia to free the Babylonian captives (Isaiah 45); Queen Esther, a woman, to save God’s people; Naaman the Syrian, favored by God, and his servant girl (2 Kings 5) — are just a few outstanding examples.

Jesus Christ is the very love of God incarnate. And that divine, creative love of God cannot be confined to ethnic or national identity. That love cannot be restricted to only one gender, or any group divided by ‘lines’ of a dispute. That love cannot be claimed only by the powerful, privileged or wealthy.

What the Epiphany stories illustrate is the expansive scope of God’s love. All people are invited and all are included to worship God, to kneel before Christ and to dine at the heavenly banquet.

God doesn’t need a deadline. The Psalmist today expresses this truth: “In his time, may the righteous flourish” (72:7). God’s time expands beyond our limited notions of time. “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord” (Isaiah 55:8). “With the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day” (2 Peter 3:8).

All that is to say, is that God will take all the time necessary to reach all of humanity. So that by the consummation of time, his love will embrace and imbue all of creation. That is the positive vision for the church: The light of Christ that has come into the world will shine for all to see and reflect.

Thanks be to God!

God will not forsake you

Please read Psalm 138.

“Do not forsake the work of your hands” … v.9

This Psalm reads like an affirmation of faith in the goodness of God amidst all that can go wrong in our lives. It ends with a plea that God would not abandon anything or anyone God has created.

Late last year we watched the horror of the school shootings in Newtown Connecticut. Could there be a tragedy as dark as losing children to such a violent death? Did God forsake those children? It sure feels like God did.

As a parent of young children, I could imagine the deep sorrow of those parents. As a father I know that there is nothing on earth that could make me forsake what I have co-created in my children. I would go to extreme limits in order to protect my children if I could, even sacrificing my own life so they could live.

And maybe that’s what’s going on in this Psalm: To describe a God who, even though death eventually comes to us all, will always preserve and hold close to God’s heart all His precious children.

Creator God, you hold all your precious children in your arms. Help me believe that you will always hold me close to your heart, even through the difficulties I meet this day. Amen.

 

God bless y’all!

Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name ….

Our road trips to Florida always took us through the state of Georgia, where we would often stop to buy pecans and admire the sub-tropical foliage.

But what I remember most from those roadside stops was the way the local people always sent us on our way: “Y’all come back again!”

Whether it was the southern accent or the welcoming attitude behind the greetings, the message was directed not to any one individual – but to our whole family: “Y’all!”

In the most recognized prayer in all of Christianity – the Lord’s Prayer – and in many of Saint Paul’s letters in the New Testament, the grammar is clear: no singular first or second person pronouns in sight.

The instruction is directed not to me, nor you, nor any singular person. Ours is not an individualistic faith. Rather, the good news of Jesus Christ is directed towards a community: “Y’all!”

Christians believe in a personal faith. However, that personal faith is received within the context of a community of faith. When we pray, “Our Father in Heaven”, we are confessing that Jesus is not my exclusive, private God, but a God who embraces all people with His love and grace.

The Gospel is for “y’all”!

Happy New Year!

Our Lord Jesus, make us whole in your inclusive love for all. Amen.