A few years ago I took a class on the Book of Psalms... in it’s original Hebrew text. Let me just say, it is something I hope never to do again.
However just as hard as it was, it was also enlightening. One thing I remember taking away from the class came from a favorite Old Testament theologian of mine, Walter Brueggemann, who teaches the psalms make it possible for us to talk about things that we can’t talk about anywhere else – the make it possible to be real. By definition psalms are prayers, poems, and songs of praise. They are words we lift up to God. Sometimes those words are joyous, other times sorrowful, and even a bit angry. But we are allowed this vocabulary of sorts to say what we want to say to God. They allow us to have an honest conversation with God, and to do so with in the form of poetic praise. In Reflections on the Psalms, C. S. Lewis emphasized the importance of studying the Psalms as poetry, with its unique forms and characteristics. He wrote: "What must be said … is that the Psalms are poems, and poems intended to be sung: not doctrinal treatises, nor even sermons. … Most emphatically the Psalms must be read as poems; as lyrics, with all the licenses and all the formalities, the hyperboles, the emotional rather than logical connections, which are proper to lyric poetry. They must be read as poems if they are to be understood; no less than French must be read as French or English as English. Otherwise we shall miss what is in them and think we see what is not." The poetry with which we are most familiar is based on rhyme and rhythm. Hebrew poetry is very different— it is not the rhyming nor the rhythm of the words, but the relationship of two lines (most often) of poetry. This is the heart of the poetic style. This relationship is most frequently referred to as parallelism (think of words in stereophonic). By the use of various types of parallelism the first line of poetry is expanded upon in the second, either by clarification, completion, or contrast. It’s a lot to digest, and there is so much more I could write about. Suffice it to say when you read the Psalms try to read it as if you are reading a poem, or sing it as if it is a song. Let it come from your heart and your soul as a way to praise God from the same place. Lent provides us a time to soak in these words, slowly and rhythmically, and allows us to find the right word or phrase that moves us closer to God. This is a spiritual practice that is called letico divino, or slow read. It’s a great way to get the Holy Spirit to direct your attention to scripture as a means to address issues that are weighing on your heart. (there is much to say about that too!) Below is a psalm I wrote while sitting on the beach in Maui, HI. I had just finished cancer treatment, celebrated my wife’s 40th birthday, and our 15th anniversary. Needless to say I had much joy to praise God for. I invite you to try to write one of your own. A Psalm Of Praise, A Poem of My Heart I praise you great creator, Lord God of my life: You gave me my first breath, and faithfully hold my last: Your mercy is great, from your love I cannot hide: I live by your generosity, without it I am nothing: Kind and majestic Creator, blessed be your name Whose imprint on all creation cannot be hidden from my sight; Your beauty shines forth even in times of despair, I praise you holy name In you and through you, light illuminates the world; enlighten me my God You know my hiding places for no secret can be kept from you; forgive me LORD; Your wisdom knows no boundaries, your heartbeat is all time; comfort me my Creator From your divine righteousness, a child was born into this world Your Kingdom has risen anew to speak your hallowed name; May your mercy endure all eternity, so my life can forever sings your praises Through you, O LORD, a king has come to lead us to your favor You took his life before our eyes, so that we might see the truth; You placed him on a throne so we can come to you, with thanksgiving and praise My heart longs to be among his glory, to walk in righteousness I give you my life and all that is in it, to find rest in your delight; Yet I am separated, like light from the outer darkness, I know not why? For in my sins I falter, yet you do not abandoned me Your wrath is fair, and your righteous face turns away; But your arms, my LORD, are always open, your eyes are never shut Without you, I am nothing more than an unmarked grain of sand, lost in the wind But you, my LORD, who made me in your image, you call me by name; I have no excuse to be nothing more than submissive to your mercy For you, my LORD, are God alone; gracious and true is your Spirit I shout for joy and sing your praises; the clouds carry your name to all the worlds; To my children and theirs to come, your name will reign supreme for all eternity.
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With God’s grace we can love God, or seek to understand God, or allow God in the same way that we allow beings like Daisy into our lives – what a remarkable and love filled faith we could enjoy. The only ones keeping us from it is us – I find that kind of funny.
Philip Yancey once wrote, “We are accustomed to finding a catch in every promise, but Jesus’ stories of extravagant grace include no catch, no loophole disqualifying us from God’s love.”[1] Take a moment and think about that. God just loves us. You. Me. And all the Daisy’s of the world. Prayer: Dear God, I sometimes have trouble making sense of you because your love is more than I am used to. All you ask of me is to receive it, and to share it with others as freely as you have given it to me. Help me today to do just that. Amen. [1] Yancey, Philip. What’s So Amazing About Grace? (Zondervan: 1997) p 52.
What it is about children and the need to dig holes? And why can’t they have this passion when it comes time to doing yard work or homework? Sadly, by the time we grow up holes become something we try to avoid. Our wisdom tells us potholes damage our alignment. Sinkholes swallow our security. Rabbit holes lure us in a misleading adventure. And of course, the elusive black hole is impossible to escape.
Metaphorically speaking, we human beings often dig holes for ourselves; financially, spiritually, mentally, etc. We are good at digging deep into relationships that are hard to get out of, or making life choices that feel impossible to escape. As a result, it is the dark, empty hole that gets the bad rap. Is this fair? The Psalmist writes, “I waited patiently for the Lord; and He inclined to me and heard my cry. He brought me out of the pit of destruction, out of the miry clay, and he set my feet upon a rock making my footsteps firm” (Psalm 40:1-2). When we put our trust in God, we have a foundation to stand on, even in an endless pit. Tony Evens writes, “Sometimes God lets you hit rock bottom so that you will discover God is the rock at the bottom.” God knows the holes we dig make us feel dark and alone. And God sent his Son to be “the light of the world, and in him there is no darkness at all” (1 John 1:5). Jacques Lussenyran, a French resistance fighter and author of And There Was Light, became blind at age seven. Ten days after his accident he made a great discovery. "I had completely lost the sight of my eyes; I could not see the light of the world anymore. Yet light was still there...The light dwells where life also dwells: within us." In our dark holes, God is there, shining a light on us because we are alive even if we feel spiritually dead. Instead of thinking about our dark places that we create as something to avoid, perhaps we take a different direction and see them as a place to meet God in our vulnerability and weakness. Maybe we embrace them as they happen because they offer us a place to settle into prayer and listen in the silence for Gods rescuing words. Through Jesus’ shining light God helps us to see these dark holes as places of refinement, resurrection and renewal. For it is only in holes do we find the roots of life itself, and the minerals and nutrients that feed us. Just as we have to dig holes to find oil, diamonds and other valuable resources, we also have holes to help us reconnect with God. Jesus told the parable of the man who found a hidden treasure buried in a field; “then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.” Our Lord and Savior was placed in a hole, and three days later emerged alive and renewed. Our greatest fear, death, had been defeated. As I stood and watched Sean slowly turn the color of mud, I realized all the best things come from the earth; including you and me. So if you find yourself in a hole, pit or rut just remember all the good things that God has already placed in there for you; including his beloved Son. Prayer: Creator of the Heavens and Earth, you fill your creation with energy and light. Even as I sit in my darkest place, you allow a beam or two of your love to shine through to let me know you're there. Help me to shine just the same so others will know I am here representing you. Thank you.
Lent is a time of being alone in your self without anyone judging you, criticizing you, or giving you something to take your mind off of… you. It’s a time to find your inner voice, a time to find your greatness and learn how to live it out in the great mystery of the world.
This is what the Spirit of God gave to Jesus in wilderness. He needed to be alone in his thoughts and prayers because what God was calling him to do was going to be some big stuff. He needed to remove the distractions of every day life in order to see life differently –not through his eyes, but through God’s. We all must find time to be alone, truly alone, in order to hear God. You might not get a chance to have an entire beach to yourself or to walk alone along the shoreline of Walden Pond, but there are plenty of ways to find someplace special to be with yourself without the distractions of others to get in your way. I suggest shutting down your phone, turning off the television or radio, and then sit in your favorite chair and listen to the small noises in your home and neighborhood where God whispers to you loudly. It might sound difficult, but remember out in that wilderness, Jesus was not truly alone. There were animals, devils, and of course some angels waiting on him (Mark 1:12-13). And on the beach I had a small group of seagulls who enjoyed the silence as we all looked out to sea. Like Jesus I knew I was not truly alone. In the heat of blinding sun, the voracity of the wind that pushed me backwards, and in the roaring ocean that pounded the shoreline with rhythmic punches, I could feel God surrounding me. And I could hear God screaming, “Stop moving. Sit here. Be still.” I did. And the heavens began to tell of God's glory. First I listened. Then I spoke. Then I sang. Then I prayed. And sang some more. Prayer: God, thank you for reminding me that you are always present in my life. Help me to find some quiet moments throughout the day where I can spend some time with you. And in those moments of solitude, teach me to see myself, and to be myself, without shame or embarrassment or guilt. Amen.
Lent is a journey that takes us directly to that cross where Jesus gave his life to save ours. This is scandalous in so many ways. But the very idea that God would come to us, only to die for us, so that we all may live forever together, is a powerful thought; mostly because the justice is so pure.
The cross is not only a journey to a particular destination, but it is also an action that we must undertake. Jesus said, “Whoever wants to be a disciple of mine, my pick up their cross and follow me.” For Fr. Gahigi, like many others and myself, forgiveness would be his cross. Jill Carattini writes, “Jesus extends to the world the possibility of reconciliation by simply embodying it. His suffering, and willingness to be broken by the very people with whom he is trying to reconcile, is the very road to our healing and wholeness and holiness…Far from the suggestion of a moralistic god watching a world of suffering and brokenness from a distance, the costly ministry of reconciliation comes to a world of violence and victims through arms that first bore the weight of the cross.” (1) You might say that it is in our forgiveness that we find our salvation. Our cross is our destination and our purpose. As we walk towards the cross we must faithfully hold fast to the promise of the Lord who said, “I will remember their sins no more.” With a clean heart and faithful spirit, we can approach God with confidence; faithfully believing God loves us and accepts us. With faith in the righteousness of God, we can accept others as they are, and accept ourselves as imperfect as we are. Better still, we can risk forgiving and being forgiven. Prayer: Dear God, help me to see my own forgiveness in the cross of Christ so that I might be able to forgive and live faithfully to your righteousness and will. Amen. (1) Jill Carattini. A Slice of Infinity: The Suffering of Forgiveness. Ravi Zacharias International Ministries. Sept 20, 2011. http://rzim.org/a-slice-of-infinity/the-suffering-of-forgiveness/ I have three kids and a dog who sheds hair daily like an elm tree drops leaves in autumn. A day doesn’t go by without some sort of word or phrase mumbled under my breath as I pick up after them. A pair of shoes, backpacks weighed down with text books, or a piece of Lego...those (mumbles incoherently) Legos!...litter the ground like land mines. Luckily when I trip and fall there is a nice soft pillow of dog fur to land on (mumbles something else). And let’s not even talk about the dishes that get stacked on the counter top right above an open and empty dishwasher. This is an exhaustive list. And I suspect we each have one of our own. Like life itself, parenting is an everyday job. We knew that going in. But like most jobs – ministry excluded – most people get a paycheck at the end of the week. Parents only get bills and the rather too frequent open hand needing money for some school event. It might not be the most politically correct way to state this but parenting is not to far from indentured servitude. Then again, so is life. Sweep. Wipe. Clean. Pick up. Mumble. Trip. Put Away. Wash. Fold. Make. Clean. Plate. Wipe. Sweep (again). Mumble. Repeat. This is our life. It is one we purposely chose. And in doing so, we know that it will come with certain acknowledged difficulties, and repetitive exercises in patience. Sometimes I feel my spiritual practices during Lent are no different. Try. Fail. Pray. Repeat. Jesus never said it was going to be easy. At least (I guess) none of us are spending 40 days and nights fasting in a read wilderness, surrounded by real animals, and sleeping on the hard uneven ground; although both the struggles of life and parenting often feel like it. In a set of old notes I found this quote written down, “Nothing you do in the service of Jesus is wasted.” Whether we are actually serving others in our homes or workplaces, or serving ourselves the spiritual food we need to get us through our Lenten journey, none of it is wasted. Jesus says, ‘Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true apprentice. You won’t lose out on a thing’ (Matthew 10:42, MSG). And so I tell myself (or mumble to myself) each act of giving or serving, each sweep of the broom and every shoe brought back upstairs, each kiss, prayer, smile, listening ear and compassionate heart, every word and each incoherent mumble are the small acts of kindness or what I like to call “Christness,” that I can do. As you struggle or sail through your Lent, take some time to acknowledge the big and little things you do for others and yourself. Then offer it up to God as a small gift of gratitude that you are living and able to do this thing because of the gift of life and ability that God has given you. And as your head rests on a small pile of dog hair or your foot is bandaged up from stepping on another random Lego, try to remember God has been serving you repeatedly as well. Fun Fact: We are halfway through this journey! Prayer: Lord, help me to embrace sacrifice. Help me to be willing to take up my cross and follow you. Help me to be willing to be identified with you and not ashamed to acknowledge you whatever the circumstances. Today I offer you my body as a living sacrifice. Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi
Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life. Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth; break forth into joyous song and sing praises. - Psalm 98:4 What do the letters E, A, and D have in common? You’re probably thinking they’re three letters in the alphabet. But if you’re a musician, they’re more than just letters. They are the keys to unlocking some of the greatest songs ever, like the hit song “Wild Thing.” The guitar only has seven major chords, yet there are over 15,000 ways to play them all. Luckily you don’t have to know everything in it before you can play. As we’ve learned, a little bit can do a lot. To quote Willie Nelson, the great country legend, “All you need to write a song is three chords and the truth." I reckon the same could be said about understanding your spiritual journey: All you need is the Divine Trinity and the truth. Given all the great Psalms and gospel music that has been created over the centuries, you don’t have to be a great musician to know that when you have a trio like the Creator, Savior, and Spirit backing you, the songs just write itself. God the Creator, the composer and conductor of our life, gave us a creative mandate: “Be fruitful and multiply, fill the world and subdue it” (Gen. 1:28). The Creator tells us to create our own songs with chords we’ve been given. They can be simple or complex. The only requirement is you have to ready to play them when asked. God the Savior is the melody and the impossible-to-forget hook that makes the song stand out. It catches the attention of the listeners, and can cause spontaneous eruption of praise. The hook is often the shortest, yet sweetest part of your song. It has the power to transform your creation into a timeless classic; ensuring you spend your life on the eternal b-side. God the Spirit is the very soul and emotion of the song. It is the one thing that connects the singer to the music. The Spirit brings your music to life and carries your song to where it needs to go. It can’t be seen, but you know it’s there. It comes up from deep within your soul. It moves and grooves in you. Without it, your song can only go so far. I hope that you use the coming days and weeks left in Lent to stretch yourself – bending and plucking and strumming along with the Spirit. At first it might sound like you’re just making noise. But the more you practice the better you become. Your spiritual life becomes more in tune with the great harmonious songs of truth. It could be the blues one day, a harmonious choral the next. It could be bright and jazzy, or calm and folksy. Maybe a little reggae or something inspired from south of the border. Maybe your song will be a little of everything, all mashed up to create your own Wild Thing. Whatever it is for you, play it, sing it, feel it- tune into the sound of God within you and make a joyful noise unto the Lord. Prayer: Lord God, Creator, Savior, and Spirit, make me an instrument of your peace. Play with me, sing with me, and lets make a joyful noise today and always. Amen. “Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.” - Hebrews 13:1-2 A wonderful thing happened to Kathleen and I while we were on a lunch date, which in itself is a wonderful thing. Rarely do we get the chance to spend an hour together in the middle of the day. It was one of those beautiful and crisp fall days. The sun was shining and the air was light. The wind seemed playful. And the newly fallen leaves were happy to join in the fun. As we approached the Green Harp, a unique restaurant in Greenville, Michigan, I noticed the parking lot was nearly full. Inside, the restaurant was packed as well. All the booths were taken, and the only available seats were around the two giant tables in the middle. Each table could seat eight, but we were only two. We had no other choice but to sit. Our romantic lunch felt more like the parable of the wedding party where the invited guest had refused to come (see Matthew 22:1-14). Other couples followed behind us, each group facing the same dilemma. No seats, but the big table. And that’s when it happened; that wonderful thing called hospitality. In remembering the parable, Kathleen and I welcomed these hungry strangers to share the table with us. The seats began to fill up and the table seemed to magically come alive. To be fair, it may not seem like a big deal for a minister and his wife to invite people to share their table with them; especially a guy who talks endlessly about welcoming strangers to the table of God’s blessing. But it was a big deal to those who were invited to sit. Around our table we learned about one another. The first couple had recently lost their home to a fire. They had been living in a hotel and were in need of company and companionship. God gave it to them in the most unexpected way. The other couple was visiting their daughter who just moved to Greenville. It was their first time in the area and now they see our town as a kind and friendly place. When I saw the one lone chair left at the table, I did not see emptiness but instead saw God in full glory. In the smiles and laughter, the conversation and storytelling, there was Jesus breaking bread with us and sharing in the joy of the Spirit that had fed him and cared for him through the difficult days of fasting in the wilderness. The Benedictine Monks live by this idea of showing radical hospitality to others. The have a rule that states, "Hospitality is the way we come out of ourselves. It is the first step towards dismantling the barriers of the world. Hospitality is the way we turn a prejudiced world around, one heart at a time." It all begins with an invitation. As you move in your lenten journey, as you struggle or sail smoothly along, remember to invite others to your spiritual pathway. You never know where God may lead you. Or what wisdom God might reveal. God doesn't tell us where we are going, but God has reveal what we are to do. Because you never know when you’re entertaining angels or Jesus himself. Prayer: God you invited me to the table of your blessing so I could invite others to join me. Keep this Spirit close in my heart as I show divine hospitality in the name of Christ Jesus. Amen. The dining room during dinner service at the Broad Street Hospitality Collaborative. Photo: Matt Stanley
This particular snow globe, which I assume is typical of all snow globes around the globe, doesn’t do much unless it is prodded. Occasionally it has been employed to keep various papers from blowing away in the breeze.
But most of the time it does nothing more than take up a small but valuable piece of real estate on our kitchen counter. So every now and then someone must shake it up to ensure it doesn’t become something it wasn’t meant to become. This is a great reminder of why we are fasting during Lent. We want to become what God originally intended us to be – beloved children living in righteous harmony with our Creator. You see human beings are more like snow-globes and less like paperweights. We too need to be shaken up to keep us from stagnating. Sometimes it’s a new baby that shakes up a quiet house, an old friend who shakes up needed memories, or a stranger in your midst who challenges our comfort level and faith. Being shaken up is part of Christian culture too. Moses shook up Israel. Jesus shook up the world. Luther shook up the church. In their stories we learn faith must remain active in order to address the ever-changing world. When you accept Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, your life becomes dramatically different. You are no longer your old self, but made anew. The Apostle Paul says “Put away your old self,…and be renewed in the spirit of your minds,… clothe yourselves with the new self, created according to the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness” (Eph. 4:22-24). The church too must always move in new and different directions in order to be relevant and reach people where they are. God has charged us with the responsibility to wake up the hearts and minds of all people so their faith can come alive in new and exciting ways. And so, like the evening wind that cools down a hot day, we welcome a shake up or two so we can swirl in the wind and be what we are meant to be. Prayer: Gracious God, be kind to me today as you shake my spiritual journey so my faith can float in new and exciting ways as I follow Christ to the cross and through the grave. Amen. |
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