6-29-18 - Do Not Fear, Only Believe

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

Remember Jairus, the synagogue leader who fell at Jesus’ feet, begging him to come heal his dying daughter? Imagine his agony as Jesus stopped on the way, asked who had touched him, and then held a conversation with the woman who was healed. His little girl was at death’s door! There was no time to waste! Why wasn’t Jesus moving?

And then, as can happen, his worst fears were confirmed:
While he was still speaking, some people came from the leader’s house to say, ‘Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?’ But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, ‘Do not fear, only believe.’ He allowed no one to follow him except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. When they came to the house of the leader of the synagogue, he saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly.

What Jairus didn’t know, what none of the people keening for his daughter knew, was that this story was not yet over. Jesus knew that this little girl’s life was not ended, that she was deeply asleep, perhaps in a coma: When he had entered, he said to them, ‘Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.’ And they laughed at him.

What do we do when someone really has died, which is often the case? We don’t know what Jesus knows. Are we to pray for healing in the face of what looks like death? Sometimes… more often than we do. Death is a reality of life, yes. And the power of God to heal is very real and very strong when communities exercise faith. The community around Jairus only saw death; Jesus saw life.

Then he put them all outside, and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him, and went in where the child was. He took her by the hand and said to her, ‘Talitha cum’, which means, ‘Little girl, get up!’ And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about.

His voice, his power, his Spirit were able to reach her spirit, and her spirit responded to his command. She got up and began to walk about – prefiguring Jesus’ resurrection.

We are called to see life, even in the face of death. At times, that life is in the people around the one dying; and sometimes the dying revive. When someone we know is gravely ill, we can ask the Spirit how to pray. I’m wired to pray for life, inviting the healing stream of God’s love into that person. Sometimes the healing a person receives is spiritual, preparing them for life after death.

These are great mysteries – if we knew how to “work it,” we’d all be doing it. That’s why it’s called faith; we don’t get a road map or guarantees. But we walk forward anyway. We can agonize about how long Jesus seems to be taking, but in the end he knows. That’s all we can count on – he knows.

I need this reminder today, when the forces of regression and darkness seem to be gathering in my country, and fear rises in me. I thank God for Jesus’ words, “Do not fear, only believe.” We need healing, and that is not a legislative or judicial or electoral process. It is a matter of spirit and soul, of bringing light and inviting conversion. That is our domain.

At the end of this story of two dramatic healings, Jesus is delightfully practical. Looking at the young girl now well and out of bed, he says simply, “Give her something to eat.” Because Life goes on, and we need to eat.

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6-28-18 - Out of the Shadows

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

The woman who crept forward in the crowd to touch Jesus’ garment, confidant he had so much spiritual power that even his clothes would be charged with healing, felt immediately that her bleeding had stopped. Twelve years of hemorrhage from what today might be diagnosed as uterine fibroids, and just like that, she felt the flow stop. She knew she was healed. She began to make her way out of the crowd again, rejoicing, yet unable to tell anyone what she’d done.

But she was not to make a clean getaway. For Jesus felt the power go out of him as vividly as she felt the healing take hold – Mark uses “immediately” to describe both their experiences. And Jesus wanted to know who had touched his clothes: 

He looked all round to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. He said to her, ‘Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.’

This is even braver than her stealth “power grab.” She could have pulled a “Who, me?” and kept moving until she was safely away. But something made her come forward and reveal herself. Which meant revealing the whole truth – her disease, her impurity in the eyes of the religious law, her attempt to remain anonymous. She simply had too much integrity to sneak away. And maybe she also felt too much gratitude. So she came forward into the light, fearful, humble and perhaps humiliated, falling at his feet just as Jairus had done. Jesus affirms her faith and confirms her healing – a complete healing, in body and spirit. Now she can go in peace, for the first time in a very long time.

Are there burdens or infirmities of mind or body that you have carried for a long time? Illness? Chronic pain? Anxieties, resentments, disappointments, shame, poverty, disease, fear of disease? Can you imagine feeling freed of that burden? That is what happened for that woman. I believe God wants us to experience the same freedom and peace.

One step is to reach out for healing, the way she did. The next is to come fully into the light of Jesus’ presence, to tell our whole story – either directly, in prayer, or mediated to another person of faith – and lay ourselves at God’s mercy. It is hard to relinquish control like that. Yet so many have found it to be the beginning of freedom and wholeness. It is what every addict has to do in recovery, and I suspect it is a universal principle, that we need to surface and bring into the light all that holds us back from experiencing the fullness of love and life God desires for us.

This includes confessing our own sin, being willing to forgive others and ourselves. And mostly it means telling our stories, getting them out of the shadows and storage bins in our psyche and into the light, shared with others to bring life and hope. More and more these days we are recovering the power of story to bring healing - for survivors of abuse or crime, gang members breaking free, people in addiction recovery, even in courtrooms for nations seeking to heal after decades of corruption and violence. The Truth and Reconciliation movement that began in South Africa after apartheid and has been successfully implemented elsewhere is based on telling our hard stories and having them heard. Amazing freedom and healing can flow from that simple act.

Our unnamed woman was healed in body before she came forward. In telling her story, she opened herself to the full healing Jesus had for her, wholeness in mind and spirit. That can be our gift too, as we share our stories and invite healing in. 

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6-27-18 - Christ the Transformer

(You can listen to this reflection here. This week's gospel reading is here.)

I once wanted to name a church “Christ the Transformer.” I knew it would never fly, but loved the multiple resonances to change and power it evoked. I’m reminded of this by Jesus’ statement in this week’s story that he felt power go out from him when a woman who suffered from incessant bleeding touched his clothes in hopes of being healed:

Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, ‘Who touched my clothes?’

It is astonishing that Jesus could feel something had happened to him in that moment, and knew someone had touched his clothes. His disciples are incredulous, saying,
"You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, 'Who touched me?'"

Even more amazing is the fact that he felt an energy transfer from him to another person. This is yet another bible passage suggesting to me that God is pure energy, of a frequency we could not withstand were it not mediated for us. That is what an electric transformer does: it takes energy running on one current and transforms it so it can be used by appliances wired for a different current. Living overseas as a child, I was very familiar with transformers in the house.

Jesus was the Transformer extraordinaire, taking the energy current that birthed the universe and translating, mediating, making it usable for God’s creatures in the earthly realm. Even so, we can find that divine current too strong; that’s why sometimes people rest in the Spirit during Pentecostal services, or we may feel heat or tingling when we pray. Part of what it means to grow in faith, I believe, is to become able to withstand and channel a higher and higher frequency, or voltage, of spiritual power.

For we too are transformers as we grow into the likeness and ministry of Christ. We too receive the power of the heavens and transform it into a current that “runs appliances” – lifting up the lowly, healing the infirm, feeding the forgotten, forgiving the unforgivable. Every single time we exercise faith in the name of Christ we are mediating the power of the heavens to bring transformation and life to the things and creatures and people of this world.

Where have you been a transformer lately? Where are you called to mediate the power of heaven into someone’s life?

This coming weekend, many will participate in prayer vigils for the families torn apart and traumatized on our southern border. We will gather, people of faith of different traditions, to bring the heavenly into the earthly, to allow God to redeem, renew, revive, restore all things to wholeness. Even this broken country. Even our broken hearts. God’s transforming work is not complete until this whole world can run on God’s voltage.

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6-26-18 - Stealing Healing

(You can listen to this reflection here.)

This Sunday’s gospel story has many twists and turns. It begins with Jesus crossing the Sea of Galilee, to be greeted by multitudes. Jairus, a leader of a synagogue, gets through the crowd and falls at Jesus’ feet, begging him to heal his dying daughter. Jesus agrees – and the whole crowd follows along, pressing in on Jesus and his followers.

In this crowd is another person in desperate need of healing, but where Jairus could be public about his request, this one must stay in the shadows. For one thing, she is a woman, a person of little or no status in that culture. For another, she suffers from perpetual bleeding. This not only makes her ill; it renders her ritually unclean – if anyone were to touch her they too would be made unclean and thus unable to participate in temple worship until they’d been cleansed.

So she sets out to “steal a healing,” going low in the crowd, making her way closer and closer to Jesus’ side, so she can just touch the hem of his cloak as he goes past.

Now there was a woman who had been suffering from haemorrhages for twelve years. She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, for she said, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.”

What faith she has! Or did she, like many of us, turn to the Healer only when conventional methods failed her? Twelve years of medical treatment with no improvement – people experience that today. And many are willing to try drastic procedures with only a 10 percent rate of success. But rely on prayer? That’s way too risky!

I love the way this woman, like Jairus, is determined to get what she needs, and how strong is her belief in Jesus’ power to heal her. I imagine her as a runner stealing third base, trying to get to her goal undetected. Her faith is so focused she knows that by merely touching his clothes she can access the power that heals. And her faith is rewarded – she feels the healing in her body at the instant she acts. She knows, without a doubt, that healing is hers.

When have you or I last prayed with such faith about something that mattered deeply to us? It can feel risky because in our culture such acts of faith are not considered normal or rational. But in communities that do uphold healing, that actively invite the power of the Spirit into those who are ill in body, mind or spirit, it is a wholly acceptable, faith-building practice. It can become normal.

Another question arises in this season of immigration trauma: who in the shadows of our communities is in need of healing, afraid to come forward and ask? How might we bring the healing power of Jesus to them?

We don’t need to steal healing – it has been freely offered to us, a stream of living water always flowing in us and around us, into which we can step at will, in faith, in fear, in trust, in doubt. We don’t always see the fullness of the healing we desire in this life. Yet we see a lot more when we do what this woman did – just reach out and take hold.

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6-25-18 - Beautiful Humility

(You can listen to this reflection here.)

Last week we crossed the Sea of Galilee with Jesus and his disciples. This week they return to where they started, and again he is met at the lakeshore by a crowd hungry for his teaching and healing. There are even religious leaders there, full of faith in Jesus’ power to heal:

When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered round him; and he was by the lake. Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw him, fell at his feet and begged him repeatedly, ‘My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.’

What humility is shown by this synagogue leader, whose name has been handed down with his story – that doesn’t happen with everyone in the Gospels. This Jairus is completely and utterly focused on getting help for his daughter. He falls at Jesus’ feet, and begs him – repeatedly, we’re told – to come and heal his beloved little girl.

This is what I do when someone I love is sick or injured or heartbroken. “Please, Jesus; please Jesus.” All Jairus could think of was getting help for his dying daughter – and most likely Jesus was his last hope. I can imagine him seeing the boat returning, the seemingly endless minutes until it had put ashore and Jesus had disembarked. And then the crowd gathering around – Jairus had to push his way through, fall at Jesus' feet and beg. That begging tells us he had faith that Jesus could, just by touching his little girl, make her well, give her life. That wasn’t just desperation, it was faith. And Jesus honored it. He went with him.

What in your life do you want as badly as Jairus wanted his daughter to live? Are you willing to throw yourself at Jesus’ feet? Jesus doesn't need for us to humble ourselves like that – he needs nothing from us. But perhaps we need to humble ourselves like that, be willing to lay aside our dignity, our disappointments, our doubts, and just let the prayer rise from our gut, even when we don’t know what will happen. As we will see, Jairus’ story takes a few more turns before he knows the outcome.

Sometimes I have prayed like this, desperately, completely, fully believing in what I know God can do, and have not seen the answer to prayer I wanted with all my heart. Other times it has felt like deliverance came, life prevailed. We always dance with mystery in our life with God.

Yet I do know this: when we fall at Jesus’ feet, praying over and over again, we’re as close to him as we can get. That relationship will help us live into the outcomes we grieve and those in which we rejoice.

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6-22-18 - Still No Faith?

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

When I’m in a crisis – mercifully, not often – I know the roller coaster ride, that cycle of anxiety, getting to calm (usually in response to good news, not because of my faith…), then being jolted back to panic by the next bit of less-good news. It can be hard to put my trust in Jesus in the face of all the information coming in. I deserve the words Jesus had for his disciples once the seas were still: “He said to them, ‘Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?’”

Why does fear grip us? Because when winds whip up and waves crest our bow, that’s all we can see. And anxious situations do more than define our present – they dominate our thoughts of the future as well. And the past, where so often we’ve been delivered from what we most feared? That recedes when the thunder and lightning start.

How can we stay focused on the One in the stern rather than the storm all around us? There’s an interesting “throwaway” line at the start of this story: 

“They took [Jesus] with them in the boat, just as he was.” What does that mean? How else were they to take him? Why did Luke include that odd detail?

I don’t know – but I take it as a reminder that we always get Jesus with us “just as he is,” which is rarely how we expect him to be. He is so different from us, so unphased by what troubles us. He may be compassionate, but he is never hooked by the anxiety swirling around us. So in difficult times, we can ask him to reveal himself in that situation “just as he is,” to let us see his reaction so we can borrow that instead of staying locked in our own fear.

And then, when we experience the peace we so badly need, we can take our cue from the disciples: “And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’”

We need to speak of our experiences and tell everyone around us, not forget about it the minute the crisis is over. Our stories of deliverance might sound crazy– but so did the disciples when they told of the storm and the sudden calm. Yet many must have heard that story and believed it, for it was passed along and shared and finally written down by Mark, from whom Matthew and Luke got it… and so to us.

We have this story to build our faith. We need to tell each other our “God stories” to build each other's faith. Bigger storms may come, but we can allow ourselves to come to know and trust this Jesus of Nazareth, who lives among us even now, who can command the wind and the sea – and even our feeble human hearts when we say "yes."

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6-21-18 - Calm

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

Sometimes it seems God takes an awfully long time to swing into action. And sometimes that’s because we haven't asked, because we've forgotten that things that seem insurmountable to us are just a matter of a word for God. And sometimes what strikes us as nail-bitingly late is right on time for the Creator of the universe.

In this week’s story, the disciples find themselves imperiled in a sudden squall on the Sea of Galilee, and they discover Jesus in the stern, blithely sleeping through the hubbub. They wake him up, saying, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?’ Jesus does not get up and join the hysteria. He just calmly exercises his authority over creation.

He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’ Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm.

One word from Jesus, and it all died down. No more wind, no more waves, no more panicked heartbeats. In fact, we’re told, there was a dead calm. It went not back to normal, but to a complete calm. Jesus did not have to pray in a dramatic fashion, whip up a frenzy of faith, plead with the heavens – he just calmly spoke peace to the elements, and his word had the power to calm, to make things so still it could only have been by his action. Jesus doesn’t do things by halves.

But why did he wait so long? Well – was it so long? Didn’t Jesus act as soon as he was asked to? A better question might be, why did the disciples take so long to ask for help? Why do we so often get ourselves into a state, deep into a difficult situation before we think to ask Jesus for help?

Is prayer your first response or last resort in a crisis?
Can you think of a time when you remembered to pray early in a fraught situation– asking for resolution, and also for peace and power and a sense of God’s presence? When we can make that prayer our default setting, we often have a better ability to see our way through the winds.

Peacefulness and calm are markers of God-Life. Not that the Spirit is some kind of spiritual Prozac, evening everything out – Jesus certainly displayed emotions like righteous anger, grief, praise. But storminess is not the way of God. A Lord who can rebuke the wind and command the sea is a Lord who can still our spirits, as we ask, and as we allow.

Maybe the reason it sometimes takes us so long to feel God's peace is because our spirits, with all their freedom of will, are not yet as responsive to Jesus’ command as are the winds and waves.

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6-20-18 - Don't You Care, God?

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

Fear has a way of taking over so that the danger is all we can see. And, like most forms of misery, fear loves company, intensifying as it multiplies. Together, we can come up with many more scenarios of doom than we can alone, right? And when we’re in that cycle, it can almost be an affront to encounter someone who’s not hooked by the anxiety of the moment, who is calm or hopeful. “What’s the matter with you?” we cry. “Can’t you see how bad this situation is?”

That’s how Jesus’ disciples reacted as the squall blew up and the waves swamped their little boat. (The boat is always little when we’re afraid, isn’t it? I’ve been in 50-foot waves in a storm in the North Atlantic, in an ocean liner, the water in its pool sloshing around like someone’s martini – and I’m sure people felt that boat was small…) The reality of the storm was so great, they forgot the power of the man they had with him. "But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?’

Outraged at his lack of concern, they took his refusal to join the chorus of doom as a sign of uncaring. “How can you sleep for God’s sake?!? Don’t you even care that we’re going to die?”

Does that ring a familiar note for you? When things go really wrong, that is often my response, to pray, “How could you let this happen, God? Don’t you care?” Or even more passive-aggressive, “Don’t you want me to be effective in ministry?”

Are there situations you have faced or do currently that cause you to ask, “Lord, don’t you care?” I hope you take that question right to God. It is way better to ask than to turn away in disappointment and resignation, to allow your faith to be depleted. It’s also good to invite other people into our crises – not so we can feed each other's fear, but so we can feed each other’s faith, so we can believe for one another when our faith seems hard to find.

“Don’t you care, God?” in difficulty or danger or despair is a close cousin to “How could God allow suffering,” probably the number one question people ask when resisting faith. And I am reminded by this gospel story that God does not prevent the squalls. God does not prevent all cancer or car accidents - or wars. Oh, sometimes when we pray specifically that certain harms be avoided, they are. But generally we find ourselves praying from the midst of hurt or crisis.

Our God is not so much in the business of prevention as redemption. God redeems situations into which God’s life and power are invited. God renews us when our faith is flagging. God brings life out of death… which means death is still there, but it’s not the end of the story. We need to be willing to believe in a bigger story.

A friend once had a conversation with her mother, who suffered from dementia. My friend was wondering why a perfect God wouldn’t have made a happier world. When she said “Why would a good God allow so much suffering?” her mother answered right away, “Oh honey, I think we are the ones who do that.”

Best answer to that question I’ve ever heard. Humans have a tremendous capacity to allow, even inflict suffering. That's where it comes from. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we can also be the agents of God’s love, coming together to heal damage, to sow hope, to banish fear. All we need is love.

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6-19-18 - Swamped

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

“Swamped” is a word we often use to describe our schedule or workload. Its actual meaning is scarier – a boat getting covered by water in a big wave, making everything wet and at risk of capsizing - literally overwhelmed. There are times in our lives when we get swamped, and by a lot more than work.

Things can come up suddenly – an accident, illness in a loved one, break in a relationship or work, a national crisis. We can be overcome by shock, grief, confusion, love – our deck swamped. It’s scary how suddenly we can go from battling a strong head wind to being buffeted in a gale.

When that happens, we find ourselves in the boat with those disciples: "A great gale arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped."

And we need to remember who they had along in the boat – the Lord of heaven and earth, though he didn't seem to be much help: "But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion."

Three years ago, my beloved cat suffered a major health crisis. A year ago I faced an unlooked for life transition, with months of uncertainty stretching before me. These days I am anxious about the state of our nation and world. When times like that hit, I know that the best thing I can do is to stay as close as I possibly can to that guy asleep on the cushion, because he has power I do not have; he has peace I cannot conjure; he has love greater than the loves I fear losing.

Indeed, the bible reminds me that, "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear...”(I John 4:18a) So I choose, like those disciples, to call on Jesus to rise up, not to join the anxiety but to calmly command the winds to cease and the waves to be still.

Are there situations in your life in which you feel your boat is being swamped by the wind-whipped waves? Can you recall the times when the storm was stilled?
Bishop Gene Robinson was once quoted as saying something like, “Sometimes God stills the storm, and sometimes God stills us within the storm.”

Both of my scary situations had blessed outcomes. And sometimes the worst thing happens. Either way, we know that God-Life is one of peace in unpeaceful circumstances, love in the face of fear. I pray that we all stay so focused on the love in our lives that fear cannot gain a foothold.

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6-18-18 - To the Other Side

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

This week we get a wonderful and dramatic story from the Gospels about Jesus quieting a storm. It’s not a long story, so we can sink our teeth into it and chew a bit. The set-up is simple – in the evening, after a busy day of ministry, Jesus says to his disciples, “Let us go across to the other side.”

The other side of what? The other side of the lake, the Sea of Galilee. That’s the surface answer. But whenever I see words like “the other side” and "crossing," I think thresholds, boundaries, liminal spaces, transitions from one mode of understanding or being into another. Crossing water evokes classic dream interpretation, in which water often references the unconscious, depths, mysteries that must be navigated in order for healing and growth to occur. None of that may have been in Mark’s mind when those words were written, but this simple phrase sets up many reverberations.

We are always facing journeys and transitions to new conditions, new relationships, new understandings of our lives and ourselves and the God who made us. We make these journeys in whatever craft are available to carry us, always at some risk from wind and weather. Even more, there is a risk of death, and that we will be changed. Change, in fact, is an inevitable consequence of growth. We are changed, expanded, exposed to new perspectives and ways of seeing. We let some things die or find they are taken from us, and in that space of emptiness and grief room develops for new life. We are ever invited across the sea, the deep, the threshold to a new place.

The alternative is staying where we are. Sometimes we exercise that option for a long time, staying stuck in jobs, relationships, habits, addictions, ways of being or thinking, long after they have ceased to be life-giving.

What expanses do you need to cross in your life at this time, or have crossed recently?
Are there areas of life in which you feel stuck? Are you being invited into a boat, and ready to put out to sea, even if there might be a storm brewing?

We do not go alone - we go with Jesus, who came in the boat "just as he was." Just as he Is, he is with us.

I’m reminded of a quote which Edwin Friedman cited in his great book, A Failure of Nerve: Leadership in the Age of the Quick Fix:
“The safest place for ships is in the harbor. But that’s not why ships were built.”

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6-15-18 - Why Parables?

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

The parable of the mustard seed might be considered a parable of a parable. For parables are a lot like that seed – they appear small or simple (some of them) but contained in that little package is the fullness of God’s kingdom, waiting to be unleashed.

Matthew, Mark and Luke include many parables among the teachings of Jesus. In fact, they insist that the parable was his primary form of teaching: 

With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it; he did not speak to them except in parables, but he explained everything in private to his disciples.

Why might Jesus have chosen to tell stories about the ways of the realm of God? Maybe because it makes absolutely no sense if you try to say it straight. The values of that realm are so distinct from our “natural” or “worldly” way of operating, that one formed by the world can only begin to grasp the difference if surprised by a story.

And people listen more fully to stories than they do to lectures. Stories engage the imagination, the memory, the heart; they often put us into a receptive mode. Stories also allowed Jesus to set up what felt like familiar situations to his listeners – planting seeds, baking bread, tending vineyards, herding sheep, giving parties – and then have characters or events go off in unexpected, even shocking directions. This is a wonderful method for teaching – start with the familiar and lead into the new.

Jesus’ parables run the gamut from one-liners to the paragraphs we read this week, to full-on dramas with multiple characters and scenes, such as the story of the prodigal son. Some are hard to interpret, like the story of the dishonest manager, and some strike many as unfair, like the one about the workers in the vineyard. They invite us to play, to explore, to wonder – what does it mean if this character represents one kind of people, and this character other kinds? Is God a character in this parable, and if so, who? Who stands in for you in the parable? Are you the sower, the seed, the bird?

If you haven’t played in the parables for awhile, you might make it a summer project to read your way through them (Luke has the most…), staying with each one until you feel you’ve mined its depths.

Not that we ever truly get to the bottom of these little gems – they have a sneaky way of revealing new truths to us when we encounter them afresh. Just like the realm of God.

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6-14-18 - Ugly Fruit

(You can listen to this reflection here.)

I’ve been learning a lot about food waste and the colossal impact it has, not only on world hunger, with people starving while thousands of tons of edible food are thrown out daily, but also on our environment. The amount of fuel and water that go into producing our food, 40 percent of which is thrown away in America, would make you weep.

One of the biggest areas of waste is produce – and a lot of that waste could be avoided if we would adjust our expectations of what fruit has to look like to be considered “buyable,” and what hours of day and night we expect to find a full display in our local grocery store. In Europe, an effort is underway to change those expectations, to push the virtues of “ugly fruit” and “inglorious vegetables” through clever ad campaigns and discounted pricing.

And what does this have to do with our parable of the mustard seed, you ask? The parable is about things that look small or worthless having great value as part of the kingdom of God. The mustard seed in Jesus’ story may not have looked like much, but when planted it showed what it was made of – broken open in the dark earth, it yielded a magnificent plant that could provide shade and place for nests. That is the story of the realm of God, a place where things are so much more than they appear to be.

“With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”

We have expectations of people too. We tend to prize the lovely, the strong, the healthy, the gifted. We assume these will be the best leaders. And we often hold to that assumption no matter how often we’re proved wrong – and in the process overlook so much potential in those who may not appear to have as much to offer, but in fact are capable of much more than we can imagine, often because of the very qualities that cause us to regard them as lesser.

When have you been surprised to discover that someone you had assumed had little to offer actually made a tremendous contribution? When have you discovered that you could make a much bigger impact than you had thought possible, as you offered your gifts to God for ministry?

Let's go deeper: In what ways do you feel small or inadequate, like "ugly fruit?" How about we ask God to show us how to plant that very seed in the dark earth of God’s mysterious love, allow it to break open and grow into a life-giving gift to the world?

We all have ways in which we feel like “ugly fruit” or seeds too small for any use. And here comes Jesus to tell us that, in his Father’s kingdom, there is a purpose to every single life, two-headed carrots, bruised apples and all. We are all made for fruitfulness, and God will help us grow.

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6-13-18 - The Power in Small

(You can listen to this reflection here.)

I once knew a couple who started a school in a challenging inner-city neighborhood. They wove Christian principles into its operation, delighted in diversity, and had a huge commitment to helping the under-served, often under-privileged children of that city learn and thrive. They called it The Mustard Seed School, because they knew that things - and people - that look too small, too poor, too shabby to amount to much, can achieve greatness. That is how things work in the realm of God.

Jesus also said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”

This is one of many ways in which the values of God’s realm run counter to the values of our culture. We tend to think big is better, strong is mightier, talent prevails. There is nothing wrong with big, strong or talented. But those labels don’t tell the whole story about a person or a community – or a church. Some people are big because they come from large stock; some are gifted because they’ve been treated to great education. Those are not the values by which we are to measure one another, and certainly not the values by which we are to measure the effectiveness of our churches. But it takes a lot of prayer and reordering our values to truly look for the power and greatness in what appears small or weak.

When have you seen greatness in something that appeared small or less than desirable?
When has someone seen greatness in you at a time when you felt you had little to offer?
Where do you appreciate “small" and "unimpressive"?”

There is a realm in which our culture has come to appreciate the small: technology. The smaller the item, the more we prize it – as long as it can still pack a huge amount of data and deliver it at lightning speed. So maybe if Jesus were telling this parable today, it would sound like this:

“With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a computer chip, which, when implanted in a device, is the smallest of all the components; yet when it is activated, it becomes the most powerful of all operating systems, and powers many apps and puts forth many gigs of data, so that whole networks can benefit from its bandwidth.”

Does that work for you? If not, try this:

“With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a person of faith who seems pretty ordinary, who, when rooted into a community of other ordinary people, is the smallest contributor; yet when s/he is filled with the Holy Spirit, becomes the most powerful of all ministers and reaches out so lovingly, whole communities are blessed in ways they cannot number.”

Yeah. You and me. On our worst days. At our weakest. We provide shade and branches for whole communities. THAT’s how the kingdom of God works!

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6-12-18 - First the Stalk...

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

The realm of God is all about growth, organic, even inevitable growth. That is what Jesus suggests in his short and cryptic parable about the scattered seed: “The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come.”

In other translations, we read, “First the blade, then the ear, then the full corn on the ear.” As soon as a stalk or blade is visible popping out of the earth, we can be sure a head will develop on that stalk, and then the full grain will appear. It’s an image of hopefulness, encouragement to believe in the fullness of God’s plan when we see only the merest trace.

What did Jesus meant by the harvest, though? That sickle makes me nervous. But no cutting, no harvest. I choose to believe that Jesus is speaking about the full cycle of planting, growing and harvesting.

I will even venture an interpretation, hoping it doesn’t get in the way of your own: that this parable is about evangelism. The parable just before this, about the sower and the seeds, is about how some of the seeds fell among rocks or thorns or in in shallow soil where the Word of God could not take root and flourish. I believe Jesus is continuing on that theme. The seed scatterers are Jesus’ disciples and he is encouraging them that some of the seeds they scatter will sprout, even when they can’t see how the process worked.

This is like the times we invite someone to join us at church or for a special event and they are uninterested, or we talk about how important our faith has been to us in a crisis, and there is no response. Sometimes we retreat, concluding no one is interested in hearing about transformed life in Jesus Christ. But we are not meant to stop scattering seeds, for, unbeknownst to us, some of those seeds are breaking open and starting to grow below ground, even if we can’t see it until a blade or a stalk begins to appear.

This happened to a friend. She invited someone to church “sometime,” only to have that person show up that week, with family – who encountered people they knew whom they didn’t realize were part of that church. There’s a stalk for sure – and soon enough, if the soil is good, an ear will appear and then the full grain. Only then is it time for the harvest, the invitation to a fuller commitment to the Life of God.

People who harvest grain know when it’s ready. There’s no question about it. When we’re waiting for an outcome in ministry, we can trust that God will make it clear to us, and to that person, when to go deeper.

This image of gradual visibility has also been used about healing prayer. Canon Jim Glennon frequently likened prayer for healing to planting a seed of faith and trusting in its growth, even before we see any sign of it. “First the blade, then the ear, then the full corn,” was his mantra, and he urged people to give thanks even before they saw how the prayer was being answered. That is praying by faith.

Are there seeds you desire to see sprout and grow? Have you seen the tip of a blade emerging yet? We wait, giving thanks by faith, until faith gives way to sight. That is the way of the seed scatterer in God’s garden. That is the way of the Christ follower growing in faith.

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6-11-18 - Scattering Seed

(You can listen to this reflection here. Next Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

A person tosses a bunch of seeds on the ground, goes to sleep and wakes up for many days in a row, and then is surprised to see plants sprouting around him. This is a description of:

1. Organic farming methods
2. A lifelong city dweller’s first experience in the countryside
3. Me with the garden I just planted (see 2…)
4. The way things work in the realm of God

What does the story suggest to you?

Welcome to Seed Week in Bible Camp. I’ve never counted, but it seems to me that Jesus told more parables about seeds than any other one thing. In the passage just before this, he tells a long story about a sower of seeds and the different results he gets according to where they fall. In this week’s gospel reading we get two more seed parables, short, simple – and if we harvest them well – yielding manifold meanings and gifts. Here is the first:

“The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come.”

We have no sower here, just “someone” who haphazardly scatters seed on the ground and then seems to be astonished that it sprouts and grows. How is this like the Kingdom of God? Is Jesus saying that God is the careless scatterer, hoping that the kingdom values of love and faithfulness and power will take root in some? There appears to be no cultivating, weeding, tending, or watering – just “the earth producing of itself.” Does this suggest that some people are just naturally ready to grow and thrive?

Or are we the ones unwittingly scattering the seeds of the gospel, and surprised when some sprout?

Or am I wrong to equate the seeds with people? Maybe the seeds are simply the movement of “getting it,” grasping the truth that Jesus was trying to communicate about the way the Realm of God is already around, among, even in us. The truth grows in us – we don’t have to study and prepare, simply recognize and accept and live it.

Or perhaps we should focus on the sprouting plants rather than the carelessness or cluelessness of the seed scatterer. The realm of God is constantly sprouting new life, grown from seeds we scarcely knew had been sown – and day after day, night after night, this growth continues apart from any effort we make.

What do you see when you play with this one?

This is what we do with parables – turn them this way and that, try on different angles and interpretations, see what strikes a spark in us. Come to think of it, parables are kind of like scattered seeds that sprout and grow, we know not how...

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6-8-18 - God's Will

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

Welcome to the family! You’re in. Jesus says so. Let's just check on what basis you were accepted. Were you born into it? Billions have been over 2,000-some years. Born and baptized, you belong.

Or did you get in on faith? That’s supposed to be a sure-fire strategy, believing in Jesus the Christ, incarnate, crucified, risen. Don’t need any documents from Column B – you believe, you’re in.

And what about behavior? Some of us “solo gratia” types aren’t keen on the idea that you can “do-good” your way into the Kingdom. But Jesus did say something about “doing the will of God…”

And he replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And looking at those who sat around him, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

We can’t take “behaving” out of the picture, any more than we can take out believing, birth or baptism. The Realm of God is an “all of the above” enterprise. It can be useful, though, to explore what it means to do the will of God. If it were easier to discern God’s will, we might not worry, wonder or wander as much.

One way to discern whether we’re doing God’s will is to ask if we’re doing something Jesus told his apostles to do: proclaim the Good News, heal the sick, raise the dead, cast out demons. Oh, and welcome the stranger, feed the hungry, visit the incarcerated, love the unloved, forgive those who have wounded or taken from you. All that.

And what about things that don’t fall easily into "apostolic" categories? What about choices we have to make, when we want to know what God wants us to do? There are a few measures that can guide us:
1. Is what we’re contemplating consistent with what we find in the Bible, or at least not contrary to what Jesus or the apostles taught?
2. Is there confirmation within our community of faith, even by one other person, for the course we’re taking?
3. The “gut check.” Do we have an inner sense of peace about it? If not, we should keep praying and exploring.

Those are key components to discerning the will of God in our lives. Each is important, and to be taken in concert with the others. Our instinct is important, but if it clashes with the other measures, we should pay attention.

Are you in discernment about anything in your life at present? What happens when you pray about it? We don't always get a straight answer to those kinds of prayers, but if we keep our eyes and spirits open, we might find clues in “coincidences,” or things we observe or song lyrics, you name it. God has our number, if we keep our lines open.

Ultimately, Jesus said, his Father’s will was that “everyone who looks to the Son and believes in him shall have eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day.” (John 6:40). If we can live in that understanding, we will swim in God's will all the way to eternity.

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6-7-18 - The Unforgivable Sin

(You can listen to this reflection here. This Sunday's gospel passage is here.)

There are enough of things to worry about in this life; you probably aren’t losing sleep over whether or not you’ve committed the Unforgivable Sin. But a scripture-savvy neurotic overly given to scrupulosity might suffer a nagging concern that she has blasphemed against the Holy Spirit. (I’ve been known to tell Jesus jokes… )

Reading the passage again this week, I think I can relax. It appears that the ultimate “diss” on the Holy Spirit was accusing Jesus of having an evil spirit: “Truly I tell you, people will be forgiven for their sins and whatever blasphemies they utter; but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin”— for they had said, “He has an unclean spirit.”

To avoid that eternal sin, we need only refrain from naming as unholy the Spirit of God. That means we must be able to distinguish the Holy Spirit from unclean spirits – and that’s not so hard to do. Jesus said one can identify a false prophet by his fruit (Matthew 7:15-20). John said to test those who claim to speak by the Spirit – and the test is whether or not they affirm that Jesus was fully human (I John 4:1-3). We can also look for evidence of the Spirit in a person by what kind of fruit they bear – are their words and work generally life-giving and God-oriented? Do we see around them the good fruit of transformed lives?

If we focus our energy on all the places and people in which we do see the Holy Spirit at work, we won’t have time to worry about evil. One of the devil's strategies is to get us focused on negatives and what’s lacking. Instead of worrying about whether or not we’ve committed the one unforgivable sin, let’s notice the much more startling announcement Jesus makes here: “…people will be forgiven for their sins and whatever blasphemies they utter.” Wow! Talk about grace and mercy covering a multitude of sins!

I have written a lot this week about evil and the devil – those are big themes in this passage. But it’s worth remembering that the way the Tempter works is to distort the prohibitions and the penalties, and to downplay God's promises. In the Garden story(also appointed for Sunday), the man and woman are told they can eat the fruit of every tree except one. And that’s the one the tempter focuses their attention on – that one prohibition. That’s still his strategy, because it works so often.

How about we stop falling for it? How about we stand so firm in our belovedness in Christ, in the amazing mercy covering our petty sins and blasphemies, that we cannot be shaken off course by distortions and lies intended to undermine us? How about we invite the Holy Spirit to be so full and thick in us that we’re much more apt to praise God than condemn ourselves or others?

The clock is running out on the power of evil – God’s love has us covered. That is our Good News.

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6-6-18 - Breaking and Entering

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel passage is here.)

Is Jesus giving tips to burglars? Not quite – but he does have a few thoughts on the most effective way to break into someone’s house: “But no one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his property without first tying up the strong man; then indeed the house can be plundered.”

He is disputing a charge that the power by which he casts out demons is itself demonic. He says that’s ridiculous – that a house divided cannot stand. In fact, he says,
“And if Satan has risen up against himself and is divided, he cannot stand, but his end has come.”

I’ve always found that statement confusing. Wasn’t Jesus all about putting an end to Satan’s power? I believe he is saying that Satan is not divided – Satan is single-mindedly focused on evil and gets stronger with each victory. Therefore Jesus will “tie up the strong man.” Hence, “No one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his property without first tying up the strong man.” And that is what we Christians claim Jesus accomplished – a definitive conquest over the forces of evil.

So… why doesn’t it seem like Satan is bound at all? Why does it seem like he still has a free run of the place, tempting, corrupting, degrading, destroying life?

That’s probably the hardest question asked of Christians. Don’t all our claims of Easter victory crash against the reality of evil still running amok in our world? Traditional apologists have likened Christ’s victory to D-Day, and the time we live in to the period between D-Day, when Axis forces were defeated, and V.E. Day, when all the battles had ended and peace was declared. That analogy has some legs.

And the issue of free will also comes into it. Yes, Jesus vanquished the destroyer – yet each and every person still must make choices and exercise free will. No one has it decided for her. The difference for us on this side of the Cross is that the choice is simpler. When we are faced with temptation to be less than who God made us to be, or when we fear evil is stronger than God, we need only remember that Jesus HAS tied up the strong man.

A person single-mindedly focused on his mission will always have more power than one who is ambivalent or unsure or wavering. Evil, personified in the name Satan, has power because he is wholly committed to destruction, to drawing people away from God. When we are equally clear about our commitment to God in Christ, to good, to love, those chains Jesus already put on him get tighter and tighter. Not only can we resist evil ourselves; we can also free those whom he has bound. That’s the work of justice and peacemaking.

We don’t have to fight or bind the evil one – that’s done. We need only stand firm on what Jesus has already finished and tell evil to get lost. We can do that in personal crises – just say, “Oh yeah, Jesus already won this battle. Come, Lord Jesus, fill me with your power…” And in global terms, what might change in the horrors that afflict our world if we were to face those crises the same way, if we were to come together in faith, pray, "Come, Lord Jesus," and focus single-mindedly on Love? Evil wouldn't stand a chance.

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6-5-18 - Fighting Evil With Evil?

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel passage is here.)

As Jesus' public ministry got under way, he took flak from many quarters. His family tried to shut him up, and next we see the scribes speaking against him: And the scribes who came down from Jerusalem said, “He has Beelzebul, and by the ruler of the demons he casts out demons.”

The scribes' job was to painstakingly copy out Torah scrolls and other clerical duties in the Temple. This group had come from Jerusalem to either investigate or condemn Jesus – at the point we meet them, they are clearly in condemnation mode. Unable to deny the spiritual power already evident in Jesus’ miracles of healing, they are nevertheless unwilling to credit that power to the presence of God. They assert that it is by demonic power that Jesus casts out demons.

And, as usual, Jesus makes no defense for himself. Instead, he points out the logical fallacy in their theory. “How can Satan cast out Satan? If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand.” 

That makes sense – we cannot draw on the power of evil to rid us of evil.

Much of the horror and heartbreak in the world arises from just that: using the arsenal of evil to eliminate some oppression or corruption or injustice that benefits some people at the expense of others. What is terrorism but the attempt to counter evil with evil, destruction with destruction? What are violent revolutions and “Robin Hood” schemes but combating evil with evil?

Are there times when people rooted in goodness and godliness use violence as a weapon against evil? Of course. I think immediately of the German pastor and theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, executed by the Nazis for his part in a failed plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler. Did this deeply holy and faithful Christian leader fall into that trap – or is some evil so horrific it can only be met with violence?

An online piece about Bonhoeffer said, "Some of his later writings insist that many Christians do not take seriously enough the existence and power of evil," so I imagine he was conscious of fighting evil. He was forced to choose between two evils - letting the madman continue, or taking action to stop him. He made a choice rooted in prayer and community, to take one life in hopes of saving millions. Many have done the same; perhaps I would too if faced with such a choice.

In the gospels, Jesus never does. He can be liberal with sarcasm, but never violence. His mission was to disable the devil, to “bind the strong man,” as he puts it. As Christians we claim he accomplished that. Yet, to live into that promise takes a very long view indeed. We still see the power of evil accomplishing horrendous destruction.

What are we to do in the face of evil forces? We are invited to deploy the arsenal of God – the power in the name of Jesus, the fierce advocacy of the Holy Spirit, the defensive weapons of the Spirit promised to us (Ephesians 6). And we have the power in prayer. The power that made galaxies is ready to mobilize when we pray in faith, in the name and power and love of our Lord Jesus Christ. That's the promise!

I sure would like to see heaven and earth move more quickly and clearly against certain evils that persist in cruel destruction around this world of ours. Yet I believe, sometimes against evidence, that the only force powerful enough to cast out evil is the love of God, wielded in prayer.

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6-4-18 - Mom! Make Him Stop!

(You can listen to this reflection here.)

This week we get a glimpse into Jesus’ earthly family. Just a glimpse, but enough to suggest they were a lot like other families: swift to pounce when someone steps out of line, protective of their reputation. And might we detect a little sibling resentment against the big brother who can do no wrong… literally?

This passage from Mark’s gospel shows Jesus right after he’s begun his public ministry of preaching, healing, casting out demons. Just prior to this, he selects his twelve closest disciples and then, Mark tells us, “He went home.” Home, presumably, was no longer the woodshop in Nazareth where he grew up, but Capernaum, the town where Peter and Andrew lived, where Jesus resided when not on the road.

But sometimes “home” doesn’t get shaken so easily. When Jesus’ family hears about the crowds that form around him everywhere he goes, they think it’s time to do something.

[Then he went home;] and the crowd came together again, so that they could not even eat. When his family heard it, they went out to restrain him, for people were saying, “He has gone out of his mind.”

Imagine a parent who goes out to reclaim a son or daughter involved in a cult – and discovers their offspring is the cult leader! It must not have been easy for Jesus’ family to see him in action, the wild things he said, the miracles he did, the riffraff he hung out with, the way he stood up to the religious leaders. It sure looked to them like “he has gone out of his mind.” Perhaps they were so used to seeing him one way, they couldn’t conceive of who he had become.

Whatever their motives, their efforts to quiet him were unsuccessful. In response to being told his mother and brothers were outside, wanting to talk to him, Jesus redefined his family. His words may sound harsh to sentimental ears, but he was just being clear about priorities for those who claim to be his followers:

Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, “Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.” And he replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And looking at those who sat around him, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

How do those words make you feel? Where in your hierarchy of values is your family – and do they support you getting closer to Jesus, or are they threatened by it?

Are you willing to let people know you are part of Jesus' family, not just a follower, but a brother or sister? Because he said we, whoever does the will of God, are now his mother, his brothers, his sisters.

That’s a pretty amazing family to be invited to join. That’s some pretty amazing family values.

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6-1-18 - Collateral Blessing

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

Imagine you have a defective hand; it just hangs limp at the end of your arm, a useless appendage, but still your hand, still a part of you. You know the Law of Moses says you are less than others; you are not whole and therefore not holy. Yet you come to worship on the Sabbath day, hoping not to be noticed, hoping just to listen and pray once again for God’s mighty hand to heal your withered one.

And, instead of blending in with the crowd, you find yourself at the center of a debate – no, an altercation between the learned doctors of the Law and that teacher who heals people. The Pharisees are baiting Jesus to heal you – not so he’ll reveal God’s power, but so they can charge him with violating God’s law. In the middle of this argument Jesus calls you forward. There is no hiding. He says, “Stretch out your hand.” You and your useless hand are front and center for all to see. If you do as he says, will the religious leaders accuse you too? But how could you disobey this holy man?

You stretch your hand toward Jesus, and as you do, you see life returning to its flesh and bone. Sensation pulses down your arm into your fingers, which tingle and hurt, but lo and behold begin to move. You make a fist, and relax the muscles. It is impossible, but your hand is alive again.

Then he said to them, ‘Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to kill?’ But they were silent. He looked around at them with anger; he was grieved at their hardness of heart and said to the man, ‘Stretch out your hand.’ He stretched it out, and his hand was restored. 

This is not the only time in the Gospels that we see Jesus heal someone to make a point in an argument, to prove his power and connection to his Father in heaven, to shut down his detractors. Jesus has different motivations in different healing stories. It doesn’t matter why Jesus heals – the power comes through even when he’s angry, locking horns with the religious authorities. The man’s hand was restored no matter what else was going on in that room.

I call this “collateral blessing,” the notion that anytime we are engaged in the mission of God, blessings can flow to those around us, just as in war “collateral damage” is unintended harm to allies or bystanders. One person consciously filled with the life of God brings Christ into any room, any conflict, any place of pain or deprivation or cruelty or injustice. Everyone around may be touched by God’s grace just by being in the vicinity.

The key is intentionality. What if each time we left our homes or set out on our day or evening, we prayed, “Come, Holy Spirit. Fill me.” And when we found ourselves confronted with tension or injury, we prayed, “Come, Lord Jesus, be here now.” Who knows how many might be encouraged or refreshed or even healed by being around us as we go about the mission of God to reclaim, restore and renew all of creation to wholeness in Christ?

God’s blessing cannot be contained. Once we begin to release it, it spills out over everything and everyone, even those we aren't focused on. God is in the business of blessing, and has chosen to work through us. Get ready to bless!

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