But let your hand be upon the one at your right hand, the one whom you made strong for yourself.
The stages of grief are shock, bargaining, anger, depression and acceptance. We don't move through it in a neat fashion. We hopscotch. We backtrack. We bob and weave. We wallow. We put on the brave face, but it is a facade over a mess. This is not a linear process from one stage to the next. This is a whirlwind. A constantly fluid whirlpool of tasks to accomplish and emotions that leak all over the place. We scratch around to find the source because identifying the source of our unique pain is important. Equally important is finding the source of strength and light. I have always liked T.S. Elliot's words of love as the "still point of the turning world." It is from such a point we have the courage to identify the hand on our shoulder as love and point our faces toward the rising son.
We can do courageous things, Lord, when we know we are loved. Amen.
Paul addresses his letter to a community of Christians not an individual. This faith we have been given is not an individual inoculation from a distant source for private use only. We humans are the result of a complex process of cell division. We want to be apart, to stand apart and yet...we have something, a force within us that draws us together. And we fail at it more often than not. God minds this gap with us. This longing to be in community and yet not knowing how. God minds the gap by giving the community all the spiritual gifts that it needs. Individuals with gifts to offer which can only benefit a community shouldering the work together. I have witnessed this profoundly in these long days of heavy-lifting recovery in a community of individuals ravaged by a flood disaster. I have witnessed people step out from the shadows to offer the spark of God's spirit through the dead connections to re-fire the hope needed, sometimes hour by hour, while we wait. It could be worse. We could be waiting alone with a spark that we can't use unless it is given away.
But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware , keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come.
I’ve been saying “I don’t know” a lot recently. I don’t know what I am doing. I don’t know what people need or expect. I don’t know if I can trust my instincts treading ground that is so unfamiliar. Jesus doesn’t give us much to go on as we wait for his return trip - he only gives us what we know about him from the first go ‘round. We know that he came as the most vulnerable creature on earth- a baby and he died friendless and utterly misunderstood. That blatant openness to come in such an unguarded way and live among us, die of the wounds we inflict and desire to return to us is beyond my ability most days to comprehend. I don’t why God loves us so. I don’t know how to be so open to an excruciatingly painful story without fearing being hurt again and, yet, I lie awake waiting for the one who simply asks us to wait. I don’t know a lot. Maybe in the space between all I think I know and what I don’t know and what I fear, I will be surprised by joy. Because somehow given all that I don’t know I can recognize joy when it comes.
We are a getting a clinic in the nature of power in our institutions, our environment, and our relationships. From halls of government to our changing climate to the not-so-simple dynamic of working with different people. Those who have power, want more. Those who don't have power are grenades that have finally shaken loose of their pins with the expected results. For what? For what purpose? We are ALL going to die. The rich, the powerful, the needy, refugee, the Mother Teresas and the Charles Mansons. While we still twist wrists and shatter hearts for power, God works on the real enemy - death. If we truly believe, then what are we afraid of? If God raised Christ from the dead, then why do we not revel in the freedom that grants us to see each other as magnificent company in this gift of life?
Holy God, forgive us. Amen.
This is an age of binary choices. Yes or No. In or Out. My facts or Your facts. Dog whistles that once made no sound are blaring now for the purpose of sorting. In conversation with people just a turn of a phrase, a hint at a news source will betray our allegiance and all further conversation is lost. We have even lost the topic of the weather as being safe, unarguable. And then there is our relationship with God who is busy with identifying the righteous ones who have the distinct characteristic of not knowing who they are. The righteous ones don't know they are righteous. They don't know that when they called a neighbor or fed a stranger or protected a vulnerable one that they were in the presence of God. They didn't do it because it was God. They just did it. And they keep on doing it whether or not anyone notices or they ever get thanked. Oaks of righteousness holding up the world. Maybe in our conversations with one another, instead of listening for the code words for whose side we are on, we listen for what the needs are and give as we are able. Maybe those are the only facts that matter.
Holy God, Use me this day for your purposes. Amen.
A wise heart....I can't remember anyone ever asking for that. Wisdom, yes, but a wise heart, no. I have never been very good at getting my head and my heart to work together in any meaningful way. My hands are asking, "What then shall we do?" and they wait for results of an argument between head and heart, but the struggle continues day after day, week after week, and so on and so on. Yesterday I sat at a meeting next to a sweet, unassuming woman who I only knew as the person who has welcomed me and my congregation as we have been displaced by the flooding of our buildings. She has attended to my needs with tenderness and grace. At the meeting I learned that her own home had been flooded to the roof and that she spent 8 hours....she was specific....8 hours thinking she was going to die. The only thing that kept her alive, she said was doing everything she could to save her son. I stared at her a long time last night because even in her confusion and overwhelming shock of the event, she had a wise heart. It made me wonder what and who else I have missed. My heart still has a lot to learn.
Holy God, teach our hearts, gentle our minds, give our hands good things to do today. Amen.
I know plenty of people who are sleeping and need to wake up and face the truth and not be afraid or hateful but courageous and compassionate.
​I know plenty of people who need to sleep because they are moving at such a blinding speed that their lives are left like dry leaves ruffled on the roadside.
I know plenty of people who are discouraged and need to know that they are stronger than they think they are.
I know a God who works while we sleep, sleeps in the face of the worst storms and grants us the dignity and power of children born of holiness and grace.
Whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's. So wake up to the truth, sleep when you need to and believe that you have important work to do for the sake of others.
Holy God, throw us into this day with the confidence that you will catch us and tuck us all in, loved and alive, at the end of the day. Amen.
The slave in the story perceives the master as harsh and unfair. He is afraid but that fear doesn't compel him to do more than careful risk management. If he can give back the same amount he was given, that is playing it safe with this mercurial master. His expectation of being treated unfairly drove his despair that anything he could do would change anything. The master comes off as greedy and living up to the slave's cruel expectations in the end. However, the other two slaves in the story do not share the same opinion of the master. We don't know what those slaves thought of the master. What we do know is that they acted out of the extension of the grace given to them. They were given much and they generated much in their actions born of gratitude. Think about it. There are people in our lives who we expect as being cruel and so we don't do much beyond the minimum effort. There are other people who by their love and grace are catalysts for bringing out the best in us. Who we perceived God to be affects how we choose to respond to the gifts we have been given and our acts of grace toward others. Who is God to you?
May I act this day, O Lord, on the grace I have been given. Amen.
One of the difficult aspects of the hurricane recovery in my community is that more than few churches and non-profit agencies were damaged including the congregation I serve. For organizations and individuals whose mission is helping to become those needing help has been another burden to bear. We have worked hard with the help of those outside the storm-affected area to distribute what resources we can so that no one in needs goes away empty-handed from our presence. I have witnessed strong, independent, and capable people weep for having to ask for help. I, myself, have experienced emotional moments of needing the graceful space to be a confused mess. When we lay aside our pride, we discover we have room for someone to sit inside our hearts and it is in exposing our need and embracing theirs that we become a reflection of the greatness of God.
Holy God, we pray for the poor that this day they may be helped. Amen.
"Woke" is a slang term being used these days. It is being used in situations like in the movie The Matrix where the protagonist in the story is offered the red pill to wake up into the world as it really exists. In particular, it can be that you have a sudden understanding of what is really going on and you realize you have been wrong. I am becoming more convinced that most of us sleep-walk through a big chunk of our lives. Perhaps we do it intentionally because we do get a glimpse of just one piece of what is really going on and we just don't want to see it anymore. This verse is the last line of a parable about preparing enough fuel to keep a lamp burning in order to see salvation when it comes. I wonder sometimes whether we move through our lives more like planets and asteroids which coolly and dispassionately whizz passed each other at the speed of death. Sometimes they collide and that is all. To choose to keep awake and do all the work necessary to stay "woke" is often painful, but completely necessary. It is when we are awake, we are most aware of a hand on a shoulder, the color of a person's eye, the muscles in your face you use for laughter that can feel like a shooting star. Keep awake therefore. The Savior is near.
Give us the courage, O Lord, to stand awake in your presence. Amen.