Water Daily: February 2022

3-1-22 - Hunger

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

I’m not big on fasting. I don’t like deprivation, even when it is self-induced. I never knew anyone who fasted regularly until I got to know more Muslims. I am astonished at how many of my Muslim friends fast during Ramadan, even those who aren’t particularly observant or active the rest of the year. For thirty days, from sun-up to sundown, they refrain from eating, drinking, even water, having sex, gossiping. They are more attentive to prayer and hospitality and charity and the needs of people around them. It’s extraordinary how normative it is for many Muslims.

The fast Jesus took on during his forty days in the wilderness was even more stringent. We’re told he his fast was total, 24/7, as he prayed and did spiritual battle with the devil: He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.” Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’”

Why did Jesus refrain from eating? People who fast regularly find it focuses them spiritually. Yes, the hunger can be distracting, but after a while it fades and one becomes more aware of what’s happening around and inside. Those who fast for spiritual reasons find they become more attuned to what God is saying or doing as their focus on feeding their appetites recedes to the background.

After forty days, though, Jesus is ravenous, and this is when the devil tries to tempt him to misuse his spiritual power to create food for himself. He approaches when he thinks Jesus is vulnerable, and starts by tempting Jesus to doubt his identity as Son of God. “If you are…”

It should not surprise us that the Tempter hasn’t changed his tactics. He still approaches us in those areas where we feel depleted or deprived, where we’re vulnerable to scarcity-thinking, where we can be more easily convinced that we deserve to be full. After all, isn't God the source of abundance and blessing?

Yes - and that is exactly what we need to remember in those times when we’re tempted to take what has not been given us, or more than is good for us, or manipulate others to give us what we want. It is God who gives in abundance, and we need not look elsewhere.

We don’t have to stay hungry, but we thrive best when we look to God for blessing. Sometimes being hungry is the best way to remind ourselves that God is God and we are not.

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2-28-22 - From River To Desert

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

On the first Sunday in Lent, we skip back to where we were the first Sunday in Epiphany, back to that Jordan River where Jesus is baptized, anointed by the Holy Spirit and affirmed by the voice of God proclaiming, “This is my Son, my beloved, in whom I am well pleased.” Jesus is filled with the Holy Spirit in that moment, but he doesn’t get to dwell in the water or the delight of his heavenly father for long. No, the Spirit who fills him immediately hurries him on to the next step in his mission: a period of trial.

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil.

It so often seems that really fruitful, beautiful times in our lives are followed by dry periods, times of trial and testing. Is this a pattern of God’s design? Are there things we can only learn in the wilderness times? Certainly the dry times aren’t as joy-filled as those seasons when we feel ourselves to be in the flow of the Living Water cascading from the throne of God. But maybe they’re as important.

Later this week we will enter the season of Lent, a season when we often voluntarily choose desert over river, seeking to strip away some of the clutter and chatter that fill our lives and can keep us from learning to depend wholly on God. Sometimes we give things up in order to listen better or focus more; sometimes we take things on. Ask God, “Holy Spirit, where are you leading me this Lent? What comfort zones or avoidance activities are you leading me away from? What practices and patterns are you leading me into?”

I’m urging my congregants to add a weekly small group to their Lenten practice – growing in intimacy with others who are walking Christ’s Way of Love can be both comforting and challenging, and will lead us deeper into God’s heart.

(If you would like to be a part of such a group (some will meet online), click here.)

Of course, the Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness for a specific purpose, to be tested and tried and tempted and strengthened for the mission ahead. I can’t be sure where the Spirit would have us go, but I do believe s/he wants us ready for action. So let’s be open to how the Spirit will prepare us for our part in God’s great mission of wholeness and reconciliation.

The river is lovely, and we'll get to come back. Now maybe it's wilderness time.

2-25-22 - Down the Mountain

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

After a rich and nurturing spiritual experience, it’s nice to coast on that high for awhile. I once enjoyed a retreat whose “glow” and sense of focus lasted several months. Not so for Jesus, James, John and Peter… their spiritual high on the mountain was quickly obliterated as they descended into a scene of trauma, anxiety, failure and discord.

On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. Just then a man from the crowd shouted, “Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child. Suddenly a spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely leave him. I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not.” Jesus answered, “You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you? Bring your son here.” While he was coming, the demon dashed him to the ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father.

The plight of the man and his son seems to have made Jesus cranky. Perhaps he was ticked off by the failure of his followers to act on the training they’d received and exercise the faith necessary to exorcise evil. Maybe that time on the mountain in the blessing of his Father, the sojourn with Moses and Elijah, made him anxious to be done with the messy business of saving humanity from itself.

It’s comforting to know that Jesus himself experienced the kind of let-down we so often do when “regular” life intrudes upon any spiritual serenity we’ve managed to find. But regular life is where we live, not up the mountain but at its base. Jesus did not lift himself above the mess, but plunged into it, to experience it and to redeem it. In bringing his spirit into it, he restored peace.

How can we find the balance between expecting blessing, expecting to dwell in the experience of God even in the midst of ordinary days, and not base our expectations upon our spiritual high points? How might we learn to cultivate the awareness of the Spirit in with and through the human mess in which we live, both for our own wellbeing and so we can bring Christ’s restoring peace into all situations?

That, one might say, is the task of the spiritual life. It is why we develop and strengthen spiritual practices that keep our faith strong and our peace pervasive, even in the most challenging and unpeaceful circumstances. We celebrate the mountaintop experiences as tremendous gifts, the memories of which sustain us in difficult times. Yet the most amazing gift is learning how to live in God when it seems like our prayers are not effective and no one is listening.

As Mark tells this story, the father says to Jesus, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” Learning to live, even thrive in that tension - that’s how saints are made.

Scroll down for information about an online Lenten retreat day March 12.

You can register here - information and Zoom link will be sent.

2-24-22 - In a Cloud

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

Have you ever found yourself inside a cloud? A fog rolls in and you are completely enveloped in white, your visibility of anything beyond your own form completely obscured. It is a deeply disorienting experience. And what if that cloud began to speak?
…a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

Of course, on the mount of Transfiguration, it was not the cloud speaking, it was God. But why in a cloud? Maybe the blocking of other senses allowed the disciples to hear more acutely the voice of God, and its message. And what a message, so similar to what some heard at Jesus’ baptism, "This is my Son," but with the added command, “Listen to him.” Their ears confirmed what they had seen with their eyes when Jesus was transfigured before them. Later, when tempted to doubt, they had another form of authority on which to rest. And when they were ready to talk – perhaps after Jesus’ resurrection? – they had quite a story to tell, supported by three witnesses.

How does God get our attention? We are often so enveloped in activities and media and dashing here and there, responding to so many stimuli, it can be hard for the voice of God to get through. Perhaps we should put ourselves in a cloud periodically, dramatically reduce the input. One might say that is what the practice of centering prayer or meditation achieves – we enter a cloud of soft quiet, where we see little and hear only silence.

That is also what happens on retreat, whether for a few hours or a few days: we slip into a simpler rhythm of meals, rest, walks, study, prayer, with fewer choices to make. As we give ourselves to the simplicity and the silence, eventually God’s voice begins to get through.

One of the great classics of Christian spirituality is a 14th century book called The Cloud of Unknowing (the link is to an edition I like), whose author suggests that God is to be found not in knowledge and evidence so much as in absence and mystery. It’s not the way we might think of seeking God in our take-charge, work-for-what-you-want culture. But that medieval mystic was on to something. Waiting, not chasing, may be more in line with God's ways.

Perhaps that’s what God does when we are in the clouds, reminds us that the deepest knowledge is not found in what we can see or figure out for ourselves. The deepest Truth can only come from God, who speaks in a sound of sheer silence, and invites us into relationship.

2-23-22 - Famous Friends

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

I hate to admit it, but I’m a name-dropper. If I have a connection with someone considered important or influential in some realm or other, and I can work it into the conversation at all naturally, it’s in. I’m not unique; social media shows that many people bask in the reflected glow of the company they keep.

Well, Jesus one-ups all the name-droppers in the world. His important friends – about as influential as they come in the history of Israel – simply materialize up on that mountain, to the astonishment of his three followers: Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.

Not only can Peter, James and John see these men with Jesus, they can hear their conversation. Moses and Elijah and Jesus are speaking outside of time as we know it. They are discussing future events, Jesus' upcoming passion, death, resurrection and ascension, as fully as if they had already occurred. In God-time, eternal time, they already had.

Why would Moses and Elijah show up in this transcendent experience? Maybe because they represent the Law and the Prophets, the foundation of Israel’s religious tradition. Maybe because they were among the few who are recorded as having seen or had close encounters with God. And maybe they were there as a confirming sign to Jesus’ followers that the claims he made about himself and his mission in this world were true. At times when they might doubt the whole thing, they had this memory to keep them on track.

When we begin to get close to someone, we soon find ourselves curious about their friends and connections. People can rise and fall in our esteem based on who they surround themselves with, who admires and respects them, and who does not. So these three men, simple fishermen, already being drawn close into relationship with Jesus and aware of the lowliness of many of his companions, are given this glimpse into how exalted his connections could be. "Whoa, he hangs out with Moses! Can I get a selfie?”

As we try to get to know this Jesus better ourselves, without the benefit of his incarnate form, we too can explore who his friends and connections are. And as we seek to make him known, we can “out” ourselves as his friends, so others might learn more about him through knowing us. What kind of representatives are we? How well do our churches at large convey the grace and love for which Jesus is known?

It’s a big responsibility. Thankfully, it gets easier the more comfortable we become with Jesus. There is no higher name to drop - and he told us to drop his name liberally. Indeed, heaven and earth are waiting for us to do so.

2-22-22 - Dazzling

You can listen to this reflection here.

The word “dazzling” doesn’t appear enough in the Bible. Nor do “marvelous,” “enchanting,” “super” or other movie poster adjectives. No wonder some people think it’s a dull book, full of platitudes and proscriptions. But we do get dazzled in this week’s story – blindingly so.

Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white.

It’s funny how you can read a story a hundred times, and on the next reading see it in a new way. I’ve always thought Jesus was glowing, radiating light from within, as though the veil of his human body became translucent and revealed his form as pure light, pure energy. Maybe. But then why would his clothes become dazzling white? How would light from within do that?

Now it occurs to me that maybe he was reflecting the light of God, suddenly revealed up there on that mountain, that God was both within Jesus and without, all around. The Exodus story (our Hebrew Bible reading Sunday) tells us “Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God.” Maybe Jesus was reflecting light, not generating it; enough light to make Jesus’ face look different, to make his whole being dazzle.

What difference does it make whether the light came from within or without? I’m interested in whether and how we might reflect the light of God, and what it might do to our faces. I don’t mean that our faces will light up like Christmas trees in the presence of God – though that would surely get some attention. But what if others could see that we are reflecting a holiness, a power from outside us? I’ve been told that sometimes when I sing or lead worship, my face glows, and sometimes when I pray for healing, I feel an exhilaration that must show on my face. Is that a tiny, tiny bit of what Jesus manifest that day?

Perhaps you’ve known someone whose outward aspect changed when they began to center their life on Christ. Our “default expressions,” which we sometimes catch in store windows or mirrors, often reflect care, anxiety, weariness, or bitterness. What if they reflected the love and grace and assurance of God?

How might that happen? By catching the God-reflection off holy people and holy places. By spending more time intentionally in God’s presence, and letting that relationship shape us. It always seems to come back to that. Shedding our human nature and taking on God-Life doesn't come from a book or a building; it comes from relationship with Jesus. All spiritual practices exist for that: to deepen our relationship with Jesus.

I don’t know that we will see Jesus lit up this side of glory, but I do believe that his light reflected on us can be dazzling. So dare to dazzle!

2-21-22 - Up the Mountain

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

We have had a long Epiphany this year. Yet no matter what stories we visit or people we meet during this season, we always end up on the mountaintop with Jesus and three of his closest followers, with Jesus’ big “reveal.”

Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray.

In the Bible, mountains are places where people encounter God. On Mount Moriah, Abraham offers to sacrifice his son and is spared by God. On Mount Sinai, Moses meets with God, and when he descends, his face shines so brightly people are blinded. On Mount Horeb, Elijah catches a glimpse of God. People also meet God in deserts and towns and watery places, but the height and majesty of mountains seem to make them particularly conducive to theophanies.

Maybe it's because mountaintops are “away places.” Climbing them generally takes some effort. We need to plan our expeditions, bring lunch and water - or, if it’s a really big mountain, weeks’ worth of supplies. We have to make sure we’re fit enough to make the climb, and maybe surround ourselves with people we want to hike with.

And we have expectations – of beauty and grandeur, of great vistas and intimate moments with the natural world. We expect hard climbing but also some flat ground and downward slopes. And we hope to see something at the top that we can see from nowhere else on earth, the big picture that puts our lives into perspective.

The life of faith can be like that, with hills and valleys on its route. We know God is present in the lowlands (as Jesus’ followers discover at the base of the mountain in our gospel reading this week). But we think maybe we’ll have a close encounter with God on the heights, one that will help us through the more challenging parts of our life's journey.

I don’t know what Peter, James and John expected when Jesus invited them along on his hike – certainly not what they experienced. They probably anticipated some rich time of conversation and contemplation with their master and friend. And so should we. Let’s make this climb with Jesus this week as a training run for the deeper excursion into God we might make during Lent.

What are your expectations of time with God? What do you dread?
What provisions do you want to carry for going deeper in the Spirit?

Who else do you want along?

This story is very familiar to longtime churchgoers, but I pray we will have a new encounter with it this week. After all, we can hike up the same hills time and again, and never experience them quite the same way. May it be like that with this strange and extraordinary tale of Encounter.

2-18-22 - The Other Cheek

You can listen to this reflection here.

"Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also." What kind of way to live is this? Wouldn’t it just make us all doormats? And who could do this anyway?

Unless you’re Jesus Christ, it might seem impossible to be this giving, this forgiving, this grace-filled, but in our Hebrew Bible we have a story of someone who did just that: did good to those who hated him, blessed those who cursed him, gave to those who abused him. This Sunday we hear the tail end of the story of Joseph, the beloved eleventh son of Jacob; the dreamer so hated by his older brothers they threw him down a well, then sold him to slave traders and told their father he had been killed by a wild animal, showing off his blood-spattered “coat of many colors” as proof. Their actions not only hastened the decline of their father, but started a cycle of misery and abuse for their brother.

Taken to Egypt and sold into service, he suffered further misadventures, but ultimately came to the attention of Pharaoh, and ended up as Pharaoh’s senior advisor, managing the entire country. (Read the whole wonderfully written novella in Genesis 37,39-47.) Foreseeing a regional famine, he is able to stockpile grain for Egypt. When the famine hits Israel, his brothers are sent to Egypt to buy food. They don’t recognize their brother when they come before him, but he knows them. He strings them along, exacting some emotional revenge (maybe not fully turning the other cheek…),but ultimately we see the big “reveal” and forgiveness of a horrible trauma that not only imperiled his life, but left him cut off from his family and beloved father for decades. He blesses those who persecuted him, and forgives his abusers.

Of course, Joseph does this from a place of freedom and power – perhaps that makes it easier. But the power to forgive and bless is ours no matter where we sit. For someone under the thumb of oppression or captivity, it may be the only power, the only form of choice, the only freedom. Every person bound in chattel slavery or human trafficking; every one locked in an abusive relationship; even those held in cycles of addiction comes to recognize this. Making the choice to forgive, to release, also releases us.

For those privileged not to be in such circumstances, the urgency is no less real. Inability to forgive those who’ve hurt, betrayed or abused us leaves us tied to them and gives them “real estate” in our minds and psyches. Releasing people from the very real debts they owe us is turning the other check, for we may be inviting more mistreatment. The only difference is, now it is our choice, because we want to be free, and we want them to be free. That’s what praying for our abusers can yield – a desire that they be free. It doesn’t mean we don’t want them to be punished; it means we don’t need to do the punishing. And it doesn’t mean we stay in the relationship; it only means we’ve chosen freedom.

“For freedom Christ has set us free,” Paul wrote to the Galatians, who were slipping out of grace into a rigid legalism. Freedom is God’s desire for us, and for every child of God. Those who forgive and bless and release in Jesus’ name are not doormats; we are freedom fighters.

2-17-22 - What Goes Around...

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

Many “New Age” teachings assert that we make our own reality, form our own destiny, are fully in charge of our lives. While this is not the Christian understanding - I am relieved to know there is a loving God who has authority over my life, even as s/he allows me the freedom to make choices for good or ill - Jesus does suggest there is a connection between what we put out and what we receive:

“Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back.”

I have experienced this truth. In areas of my life where I am trusting and generous, I experience plenty. Where I am grudging, tight-fisted and judgmental, I see only paltry blessings. But I don't think Jesus is teaching karma, or suggesting that God punishes or withholds according to our attitudes. He is making a profound observation: only freedom can beget freedom, just as only love can beget love.

When we regard others with compassion rather than judgment or condemnation, we seek the best in them; such an outlook leads to more freedom. In fact, when I catch myself judging, I pray for the ability to see where that other person hurts. Compassion can break that cycle. (We need to practice this on ourselves too…).

When we are able to forgive people who have hurt us, and really release that debt, costly as it may be, we are set free and so are they. And when we give, our hands are open to receive. Not only our hands – our hearts, for giving makes us joyful, and joyful people are attractive. As we cultivate an attitude of giving, things get unjammed, and gifts flow to us as well as from us.

This teaching, “the measure you give will be the measure you get back,” is another way of saying, “Do unto others as you would have them do to you.” Go through life pinched and puckered, that will likely be the way you experience the world. Go out in joy, sharing your gifts and your compassion, and just see how much blessing surrounds you.

Jesus uses such an exuberant image to describe the abundance God wants to pour on us – good measure, pressed down, shaken, running over into our laps. We need to affirm and forgive and give our little hearts out just to make room for all the blessing God desires for us to have. Are you ready?

2-16-22 - Let Them Steal?

You can listen to this reflection here.

Can you imagine being robbed, learning the identity of the thief, and saying to them, “Oh, that’s okay, keep it?” Or walking down a busy sidewalk and giving to every panhandler you meet? Is that really what Jesus was asking of us when he said to his disciples: "Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you."

Whenever I study this passage in a group, I watch people turn themselves into pretzels trying to find the loopholes. “We’d go broke,” “Nowadays many beggars are addicts or con artists,” “I work hard for my stuff.” Is this message even for us, or was it only intended for Jesus’ first disciples, who were sent on mission forays with nothing, told to rely completely on the generosity of others? Are there meant to be some people who beg and others who give, or are we all either or both at different times?

As with most passages of scripture, we do best when we look at this as a whole rather than individual verses. We can start where Jesus ends up: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” known as the Golden Rule. If we were truly guided by this principle, all our interactions would flow better, from living with other people to co-existing with global neighbors. If you like to find the kitchen counters clean when you come to them, clean them for the next person. If you would like your citizens to thrive, help your neighbors’ citizens to thrive.

But do we have to let people steal from us? Perhaps Jesus is saying, “If you want people to accord you dignity and ultimate value as a human being, you need to extend that same regard to people who harm or steal from you” – which might mean valuing the person who stole more than the goods stolen. That’s a challenging thought – though it aligns with the Episcopal baptismal promise to “Respect the dignity of every human being.” And if we offer our plenty, it’s not being stolen. If we make a loan without expecting a return, we extend freedom both to ourselves and to our debtors.

It depends what angle you’re looking from. In cosmic terms, we come into this life with nothing. Everything we have is given to us by our loving God, even what we earn as a result of abilities or assets we’re born with. Should we hold quite so tightly to the fruits of God’s initial investment in us?

Who do you feel has taken something from you? What would help you release that obligation now, treating them as you would hope someone would treat you? Make it specific.

I am no better at living into this teaching of Jesus than most. I can start by identifying other people with myself. “Do unto others as you would have them do to you” sets up a comparison and a connection. And when we see ourselves as connected to other people, and they to us – by common humanity if nothing else – giving to them, even not quite voluntarily – isn’t such a stretch.

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2-15-22 - You Want Us To Love THEM?

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

Of all the big "asks" that Jesus lays on his followers, perhaps the most extreme is this one: “But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt.”

It may be hard to see sometimes, but all humans have some innate capacity for generosity, compassion, collaboration. Jesus asks these attributes of us. But to love your enemy and do good to someone who hates you? That runs counter to human nature and most cultural norms. How can we structure societies and kinship groups if we have to love our enemies the same as we love our friends and relations?

Jesus held kinship relationships very lightly – witness his dismissiveness of his mother and brothers. In fact, he redefined family altogether, saying, “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it.” (Luke 8:21). And we can see what he thought of social and ethnic categories in his parable of the Good Samaritan, where the social outcast is the hero of the tale. But what about human nature? Are we not hard-wired to protect ourselves and those we love, as well as our possessions? How can we go around loving our enemies?

With only our human nature, I don’t believe we can. But we do not operate out of merely human nature. At our baptisms, God installs his operating system in us, and when we run on our God-nature, we access unimaginable power. Here’s how we can go about loving our enemies: Let God do it. Bring God into the triangle.

Like it or not, there is a line running between us and our enemies – we are bound to them by mutual hatred/fear/prejudice/anger/all of the above. It can be hard to pray along that axis, let alone open ourselves to communication or blessing. So I direct my prayers for those persons to God, and ask God to bless, forgive, heal and restore them. It is a powerful thing to ask God to bless someone you are unable to bless. We can’t know the effect it will have on the other person (though surprisingly often we see changes in behavior…), but it releases something in us and changes us.

As we begin to be freed of our own fear and hatred, we become better able to imagine doing good to those who hate us. There is self-interest as well as altruism in ensuring that those who hate us have enough to eat, safe places to sleep and solid education. If we are victims of abuse from someone else, sometimes the only power we hold is to pray for the abuser, as we are able to do so. There is no downside to praying that a vile and evil human being be blessed and healed and restored to his or her full humanity. Such conversion can only help us and protect other victims. Think of John Newton, the slave-trader who came to see the evil he perpetuated, and wrote of his conviction and conversion in the hymn Amazing grace!

In these days of national divisions deeper than most of us have known, it’s not hard to imagine people who hate us, or even people we’d consider enemies. So we have no shortage of opportunities to practice Jesus’ biggest ask.

2-14-22 - Funny Valentine

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

Like many people, I’ve had my share of unrequited love, yearning for the regard and affection of someone either unavailable or uninterested. But it never occurred to me to see this as a spiritual virtue! Jesus said,

“If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for God is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful."

Of course, Jesus is not talking about romantic fixations, but friendship and favor. To merely return the love or generosity of someone is a low bar indeed. To love as God loves requires us to love when it’s challenging, when we do not get back in kind or volume what we've given, when we don’t even know we’re loved back. If this seems impossible, we need only flip the perspective and see ourselves as the often ungrateful, neglectful and grudging recipients of God’s unconditional love and grace. Jesus’ message starts to make more sense.

Every time we make the choice to love another person, especially in intimate relationships, we are in a sense making a loan. And if, as Jesus commands, we could extend those loans without expectation of repayment, we’d be a lot happier and love with more freedom. I’ve made more than a few loans that I’ve forgotten about. If the money is repaid, it’s a delightful surprise, but I’m not counting on it, or disappointed if it is not. It has never occurred to me to see my offers of love or friendship in the same light.

To love this open-handedly risks allowing people to take advantage of us. To love this open-heartedly leaves us vulnerable to pain, for it is human nature to desire love in return for love given, and to hurt when we don’t receive that. And if we’ve ever known the joy of mutual love, that can become the standard by which we judge our interactions. But if we measure that way, we might miss the gifts that are being offered by friends and lovers; they might seem like lesser gifts but they could be something we need to help us grow. And since our expectations are so often the root of our unhappiness, it wouldn’t hurt to take a few off the table, and be set free to love without measure, as we have been loved.

Can you think of a relationship in which you feel you give more than you get? How does it change your perspective if you focus on your generosity more than on deprivation?

Just as our physical hearts have muscles which need to be exercised, so do our spiritual hearts – the more we love without expectation, the stronger our capacity for love grows. Unconditional love is a spiritual practice, as is giving without expectation of return. We need to practice it – and what better time than Valentine’s Day?

2-11-22 - Trees Planted By Water

You can listen to this reflection here. Today's reading from Jeremiah is here.

Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain, which we've explored this week, could be summed up this way: Don’t put your trust in prosperity or well-being or what people think of you. Your strength comes from God, your reward comes from God; keep your focus on God. As it happens, in one of our readings this Sunday the prophet Jeremiah is singing the same tune:

Blessed are those who trust in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. They shall be like a tree planted by water, sending out its roots by the stream. It shall not fear when heat comes, and its leaves shall stay green; in the year of drought it is not anxious, and it does not cease to bear fruit.

Years ago I went on retreat, when I was more in the habit of that life-giving spiritual practice, and in prayer I asked Jesus what he wanted for me or from me. This answer formed in my mind: “I want you to let me water your roots every day.” That’s in part where the name Water Daily came from. Roots that dry up cannot sustain vibrant life in the plant.

We need to stay close to the water of life flowing from the throne of God, and send our roots into that stream to soak up its nutrients. (We also need to drink more water each day – as my sister was just reminding me, even mood issues can stem from dehydration…)

I’ve got trees on the brain lately, as I explore Suzanne Simard’s memoir Finding the Mother Tree: Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest. Her research has shown that “trees are a complex, interdependent circle of life; that forests are social, cooperative creatures connected through underground networks by which trees communicate their vitality and vulnerabilities with communal lives not that different from our own.” This network “heals, feeds and sustains the other members of the forest.”

When I first heard of Simard’s book, and heard her interviewed (On Being), I thought, “This is what churches are meant to be: a powerful network that heals, feeds and sustains the other members of the forest.” The applications of her findings to human networks and particularly to the mission of Christ’s church are galvanizing.

Just imagine what a gift to our current culture we bring when we are “do not fear when heat comes,” when “our leaves stay green” (supple, vibrant), when we are not anxious no matter what is going on around us, no matter how many good reasons there are to be anxious. Just as hatred and anxiety can spread through communities, so can love and peace. We are to be conduits of God’s love and peace.

What is the best way you can think of to keep your spiritual roots watered? (I hope Water Daily is one of them!). Keep doing that, and you will not cease to bear fruit that transforms lives.

2-10-22 - Where's the Love?

You can listen to this reflection here.

Next Monday is Valentines Day, but it’s hard to find the love in Jesus’ "sermon on the plain."

"Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice on that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets…
"Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets."

It can be awfully tempting to take these words and say, “If everybody hates me, I must be doing something right!” Many a clergyperson (or despot…) wielding his or her will over a community has employed such false logic to justify themselves. “I’m just like Jesus, persecuted and holy!”

Let’s assume that is not what Jesus meant. Remember, this whole teaching is directed to his disciples, those who have already committed themselves to following him and the way of life and love he was teaching. That Way ran profoundly counter to the ways of culture, not to mention human nature. He is warning them that people don’t respond well to having their assumptions challenged, their power threatened, their worldview turned upside down. In his service, they will encounter exclusion, derision, persecution and worse. He cautions them not to let their value be determined by what others think about them, nor to adjust their teaching or actions according to their popularity.

Jesus wisely sets the rejection his followers would face into the framework of what happened to the prophets of old, many of whom persisted, despite persecution and punishment, in giving dire warnings that kings did not want to hear. Jesus wanted his followers to know that if they claim to speak for God, they should expect trouble.

And, of course, those who claim to speak for God better be certain that’s what they are doing. How can we know? We can always check our preaching and teaching against what we find in Scripture, the whole sweep of Scripture, that is, not just individual passages. And we need to ground our missional life in prayer, in that relationship into which God invites us daily. And we need to look for good fruit.

If people are coming to faith through our ministries, lives being transformed, and energy being released for mission, we know God is with us. We can withstand the discontent of those who disagree or feel left behind, and continually invite them to join in. But if the only fruit resulting from our teaching or actions is discord and hurt, it’s likely the Holy Spirit is not with us in what we’re doing.

The Holy Spirit is the key. Jesus did nothing without the Spirit, and neither should we. Not only does the Spirit empower our ministries and inspire our preaching, the Spirit is also called Advocate, one who stands with us against our accusers. Whether people speak ill of us or well is not all that important. If we are moving on the winds of the Spirit, we are aligned with God. And God delights in us.

2-9-22 - Now Or Later?

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

I generally like gospel stories best the way Luke tells them – but his version of the Beatitudes troubles me. I believe that using the words “Kingdom of heaven” to refer to the reign of God has had a negative effect on Christianity. This usage can distort our understanding of Jesus’ message, because we also use the word “heaven” to describe that place in which we will dwell with God for eternity. “Heaven” is a “there and later” place. The Realm of God, as Jesus proclaimed it, is here and now.

If we think the Good News is about what happens to us after we die, we become less invested as agents of transformation in this world, less engaged in naming and mediating God’s presence and peace and power active in our earthly life. Too often, Christian proclamation has focused on salvation and not enough on incarnation, the Good News of God present with us in human flesh – physically in Jesus Christ, and now spiritually in us through his Holy Spirit.

This split has perhaps been reinforced by Jesus’ teaching as we read it in Luke’s “Sermon on the Plain.” Then he looked up at his disciples and said: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh… But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.”

Is it really a zero-sum game; if we’re full now, we’re sure to be hungry later; sad in this life, we’ll yuck it up in the next, and vice versa? This kind of “either/or” thinking leads to legalism and rigidity. Doesn’t Jesus proclaim a “both/and” realm, in which all things are possible?

Or have I misunderstood, thinking Jesus is speaking causally, when he is simply making an apt observation of human life? Take the “blessings” part of his discourse: it is full of wonderful promises, reminding us that poverty, hunger, and sadness do not represent God’s will for our lives, and are not permanent states. It doesn’t say the only place we’ll be blessed is after we’re dead. It just says, “Hold on, you have inherited the kingdom of God. Better things are coming.”

And the “Woes” which follow have always snagged me, because they suggest we’re punished for happiness in this life. But maybe Jesus is not speaking eschatologically about rewards or punishment, simply observing that wealth is its own consolation, which can keep us from putting our full trust in God. A full belly can dull our hunger for justice and righteousness. Joy can blind us to loss, but it’ll catch up with us eventually.

It is both/and… all at the same time we are blessed and full of woe, often in different areas of our lives. We are moving into the third year of a global pandemic, yet in many ways it has helped our churches thrive. We are full and hungry, rejoicing and grieving. If I understand the fullness of what Jesus said about this God we serve, consolations will abound, now and later.

2-8-22 - Christ the Transformer

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

When trying to come up with a name for a church newly formed out of two parishes, I knew I wanted “Christ” in it. People have heard of Christ, even if they’ve never been introduced. The rest of the name also needed to be something people could connect to, a word in use nowadays. “King” seemed too monarchical and male-centric; “Redeemer” not particularly relatable – these days we only redeem points and coupons. We ended up with “Christ the Healer,” which was great. But what I really wished we could have used was “Christ the Transformer.”

They had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases; and those who were troubled with unclean spirits were cured. And all in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them.

Electric transformers take energy running on one current (say, that used in America) and transform it so it can be used by appliances wired for a different current (such as in Europe or Africa). Jesus was the Transformer extraordinaire, taking the energy current that birthed the universe and translating, mediating, making it usable for God’s creatures in this earthly realm. More than once the gospel writers refer to Jesus’ power being something that people could feel, that came out of him. Here we see a whole crowd trying to touch him, just to get a dose of what Jesus was mediating to the world. This bible passage, like others, suggests to me that God is pure energy, of a frequency we could not withstand were it not transformed for us.

That power coming through Jesus didn’t just “zap” people – it healed and restored. It cast out “unclean spirits,” whether demonic forces, or mental or physical diseases, or both. It forgave and released people. God’s power coming through Jesus transformed in body, mind and spirit – and healed individuals become transformers in their communities.

We are called to be transformers as we grow into Christ's likeness and ministry. We receive the power of the heavens and transform it into a current that “runs appliances” – lifting up the lowly, feeding the forgotten, healing the infirm, forgiving the unforgivable, loving the unlovable. As we grow in faith, exercising the power of God in prayer and ministry, we become able to withstand and channel a higher and higher frequency, or voltage, of spiritual power. God’s power has not weakened from the time of Christ to now; it is as strong as the wiring able to carry it.

Every single time we exercise faith in the name of Christ we mediate the power of the heavens to bring transformation and life to the things and creatures and people of this world. The more we channel God's power and love, the stronger and deeper our capacity grows.

Christ the Transformer is alive and eager to work through us, his Body in the world. How much can your wiring take?

2-7-22 - Hearing and Healing

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

We are coming to that part of Jesus’ story where we see his ministry gathering steam. Everywhere he goes he draws crowds – sometimes so many, he has to be creative about where to stand so he can be seen and heard. He has also come to the point of organizing his growing community of disciples. In the story just before this week’s, he spends the night on a mountain in prayer and chooses twelve men to be his closest companions. Now he comes down and enters the fray once more.

He came down with them and stood on a level place, with a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon. They had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases...

People came from far and wide to see Jesus, Jews and Gentiles alike. They came both to hear him, and to be healed by him. Hearing and healing – such similar words, yet distinct activities which we don’t often put together. But often Jesus spoke healing upon people. He didn’t always touch, and he rarely prayed; he just pronounced healing with his voice. Hearing was how the healing was received.

Maybe people also found healing in his teaching. He proclaimed the nearness of God, and God’s power to deliver them from captivity of every kind, captivity to poverty, power, demons, disease. No doubt hearing him awakened their faith and made them more receptive to healing and release. It’s no accident that every time Jesus sends his disciples out in mission he commands them to “proclaim the Gospel and heal the sick.” These two activities go hand in hand, the proclamation enabling the healing, the healing confirming the proclamation. A church that does not keep these ministries at equal strength weakens its ministry and undermines its effectiveness as agents of the Good News.

I have always, even at seminary, sown the seeds of healing ministry, and I am eager to raise it up at my churches now. How is that ministry practiced at your church? Are there healing ministers equipped to pray with people during or after church services, or teams trained to offer prayer for more intense concerns? Is the healing ministry, where active, accompanied by proclamation of the Good News?

That proclamation need be no more than people’s stories of God’s healing power and love. Our stories are how the Gospel spreads. Our stories of God’s activity quickens the faith of others – just read any of a number of excellent books on Christian healing (email me if you want a list), and see how reading those stories emboldens you to invite God to release his healing stream in your life.

People still want to hear from Jesus, the Jesus we meet in the Gospels. And they want to be whole. If we make both his Word and his Power known in our ministries, many will hear and to be healed.

2-4-22 - Leaving Everything

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

We have zoomed in this week on how Jesus’ actions on that fishing boat affected Simon, soon to be nicknamed “Peter.” Let’s widen our lens and take in all of this very public event – the throngs on the shore and the other fishermen in the water. This had a profound effect on them as well. After Simon’s profession of humility and repentance, we read:

For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken; and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.

Jesus doesn’t reply to Simon’s plea, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” He just says, “Don't be afraid. I have plans for you. From now on, you will fish for people and catch them.” That’s all he says in the way of recruitment, and it’s a mighty odd offer. Yet after what they have just experienced with him, Peter and Andrew, and James and John in the next boat, haul their catch to shore, leave it all for others to sell, and set off to follow Jesus.

Who walks away from his business at its most successful moment? Who decides, when they’ve finally gotten what they most desired, that they will now seek something else? Someone who has encountered something better, more powerful, more real, more engaging. That’s the only way I can account for the actions of these fishermen. The power and reality they encountered in Jesus, and maybe the love they detected, though this account does not speak of love, was sufficient to draw them away from all they knew and cared for, all their investments, and leave it behind to move forward on a mission they scarcely understood.

What would that look like for us? For you? Where are you most invested? What do you love to do? What are you good at? Is there some way that Jesus is calling you forward, to take with you the skills but leave the investment behind, to put your energies and passions into God’s mission to reclaim, restore and renew all of creation to wholeness in Christ? Or to stay where you are, but become more active in following Jesus, who invites us into an ever-deepening relationship, who is always moving forward, never back?

It isn’t always one decisive moment, but gradually we are invited to bring our boats – all that we rely on in this life – to shore, and leave them behind to walk with Jesus, trusting in his amazing power and love. That is the way of freedom. That is the Way of Love.

2-3-22 - Encountering the Holy

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

After Jesus’ fishing miracle, Simon Peter has an odd reaction to seeing his nets filled to the breaking point with fish. He doesn’t exult, or gleefully anticipate the profit ahead, but realizes his unworthiness.

But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken; and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.”

The fancy spiritual word for what Peter was going through is “compunction,” when we become aware of our sinfulness or a particular area of sin in us. In this action, Jesus had revealed to Simon beyond a shadow of doubt that he was the Holy One – and Peter’s reaction to being in the presence of the holy was to become hyper-aware of his unholiness. Isaiah, in his vision in the temple (also a reading for Sunday) has the same reaction, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!"

In both instances, God redirects the repentance into mission. Isaiah hears, “Whom shall I send,” and answers, “Here am I! Send me!” Jesus, in that boat with Peter, says nothing about sin – he knows Peter will continue to struggle with those things that make him less than who God made him to be. Neither does he offer forgiveness – that is a given with Jesus. He simply says, “Do not be afraid. I have plans for you. From now on, you will fish for people and catch them.”

Has there been a time when you’ve felt the presence of Jesus with you? What effect did that have? Was there ever a time when you felt filled with an awareness of your sinfulness? What inspired that?

Too often, when I connect with Jesus in prayer, I trot out my sins and repentance – and find he seems little interested in them. God is not in the business of punishment; we do enough of that ourselves. We may go through times of chastening, but those are really boot camp for mission. God is in the business of transformation. All that we offer up in confession is met with an overwhelming love and grace that invites us into new ways of being. We can spend years and a lot of energy feeling guilty or ashamed for how we operate or things we’ve done – and discover that God is much more interested in calling us forward into mission in Christ.

We may not have an explosive experience like Peter did that day in the boat, but we can, anytime, anywhere, come into the presence of the Holy through prayer. And in that presence, the presence of pure Goodness, we can be real about who we are and experience a love we cannot manufacture. And then we can move beyond that encounter into relationship, as we follow Jesus and develop the capacity for more and more of his life in us.

2-2-22 - So Many Fish

You can listen to this reflection here.

Abundance is abundant in the Gospels. We see it in last week's story of the water turned to wine; we see it this week with the miraculous catch of fish. Abundance is a core principle of God-Life, one of the ways God most often shows her hand – when there is unexpectedly enough, and even too much. That is what Simon Peter and his fisher-friends experienced on the lake that morning, when Jesus said,

“Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” Simon answered, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink.

I experienced this abundance when I was heading to Yale Divinity School and invited fellow congregants at my church to help me pay for it. I thought I might get a few hundred, maybe a thousand dollars to help defray the costs… and the money just kept rolling in, sometimes four figures at a time. In the end some $20,000 was given to support my theological education. Every time I expressed amazement, I could sense God laughing and saying, “See? Now do you believe me?”

If abundance is a principle of God’s realm on earth, why is there so much scarcity? In part, it’s because we’re more wired to see, to expect scarcity than we are abundance. We default to “not enough” – that’s what Jesus’ disciples saw when faced with the challenge of feeding a crowd of thousands. But God invites us to look beyond the “not enough” in front of us to the “what else?” all around us. God invites us to look beyond what we can see, period, and call God’s power to flow into situations of need.

Scarcity on a global level is due to human choices and to sin – greed, fear, and the damage to our planet which those forces wreak. The earth has the capacity to feed everyone on it, but some nations hoard food and water and play havoc with the environment. Most often the ruinous consequences like disease, famine and flooding fall upon the poorer nations. We can make better choices as people of prosperity – both because Jesus commanded us to love our neighbors, and from self-interest. Bono, the lead singer of U2, has written, “In the not-too-distant future, the rich world will invest in the education of the poor world, because it is our best protection against young minds being twisted by extremist ideologies - or growing up without any ideology at all, which could be worse. Nature abhors a vacuum; terrorism loves one.” We are still waiting for that day.

I have wandered far from our lakeshore and its boats sinking with the weight of such a large catch. That day in Galilee, the abundance was all from God. It was a sign to these fishermen in their own language that Jesus meant business, that this was what they could expect in a life in God – along with hardship and hunger. Over all, there would be enough, and often too much to handle.

This miraculous catch of fish was Jesus’ work. Yet it could not have been realized without the participation of the men on those boats. Abundance comes from God – and God always reveals it through people. Are you ready to catch a boatload of fish?