The King Reigns

Finally, some pictures.  I took these yesterday from the car.  They aren't the best pictures, but the sky was so beautiful, both morning and evening, that I couldn't not take pictures.  Such beauty is hard to capture, hard to share in pixels.  But I try anyway.

It is that way with God.  It's hard to share the news.  To express the reality of it -- the joy of it.

In church Sunday, Joe talked about being a joyful messenger for Christ. 

In the times of Isaiah, the king would go with the army to fight the wars.  The people were left at home to carry on, hoping that the king was still alive, still fighting, still reigning.

The king would sound back messengers to declare that the king was still king -- be loyal, be at work, the king still lives. 

That messenger needed to be joyful, needed to be enthusiastic.  He needed to be trustworthy, and not stop along the way home - not get distracted or tired. 

He needed to be all of things we need to be for God if we are going to be joyful messengers of His word.

Trustworthy.  Enthusiastic.  Dedicated.  Certain.  Faithful. 

Be joyful.  The king is alive and is still reigning.  Spread the word.

Pointing out holiness

Yesterday in church, Joe preached about the passage in Mark 1 (21-28) in which Jesus is speaking in a synagogue, and he is confronted by an unclean spirit. 

This led Joe into talking about holiness versus sinfulness. He said that most people have an understanding of their sinfulness -- even if they hide that understanding.  It may be that they don't need it to be pointed out to them.  However, what they made need, is their holiness to be pointed out to them.  When we point out their holiness, they will need to deal with their sinfulness without any word from someone else.

Have you pointed out someone's holiness lately?  Have I?  What would it be like to make it our mission to affirm the holiness in the people we meet?  How joyful would that be?

Immensely joyful, I imagine.

Our prayer

Our creator God, hear our prayer.
Holy, holy, holy, we lift our prayer to you.
You live in heaven,
you live among us.
We pray for the change that will bring
heaven to earth.
We pray for reality to be shaped by your will,
instead of our own.

The hope of our church
is that you will come among us.
Heal our families.
Surround our friends with your grace.
Tune our ears to your word
so that we will hear you,
and follow you.
Walk with us, so that justice will flow
and rightousness will stream like living water
in your world.
We pray that your church
will be brought together in unity.
Hear our prayers.

We pray that you will give us
what we need to live.
To live this life, alive.
Hear our cries for forgiveness
and for the ability to forgive.
Give us the strength to resist the
lure of sin.
Give us the courage to repent,
and to turn back to you.

Hear our secret hopes
Our unspoken worries
that move silently
through the crevices of our souls.
Hear these breathless, silent prayers,
unheard by others,
sometimes ignored by our hearts,
sometimes our hearts' deepest desires,
sometimes silenced by our pain or shame.
The echoes of these silent prayers
can be deafening in our lives.
Hear our groaning of our souls.

For the universe is yours,
the power is yours,
and we live our lives,
in your glory.
Amen.

Correction

Yesterday, I posted about the idea that criticism could be a blessing.  After I wrote that, I read a devotional centered about the 1 Corinthians chapter concerning eating meat. 

Paul tells us that knowledge puffs up but love builds up.  Have you ever encountered someone with lots of knowledge and with a ready answer to problems, but without much love?  It is kind of the other side of the coin of yesterday's post.

Being right is not the most important thing.  Loving each other is most important.  So what does that mean?  Does it mean that we are quiet in the face of wrong?  No, of course not.  It might mean, though, that there are times when correction is not necessary.  Do we intend it to be a blessing or only to demonstrate our knowledge?  Is sharing the correction an act of love?  Or not?

Blessing?

I was reading a blog called The Painted Prayerbook today.  Jan Richardson writes:

But, as Jesus shows us in this passage where we see him healing a man in the grip of a destructive spirit, such a blessing—the blessing that comes in facing the chaos rather than turning away from it, the blessing that comes in naming what is contrary to God’s purposes rather than letting it persist unchecked—makes way for the wholeness we crave. It brings release to what has been bound; it invites and enables and calls us to move with the freedom for which God made us.

So, someone points out to you a part of yourself or your actions that is contrary to God's purposes.  Is it a blessing?

Calling it a blessing is certainly a different way to look at it.  It doesn't often feel like a blessing at the time.  It feels painful and awful. 

Perhaps the blessing can come from how you react.  (And the assumption here is that what someone has pointed out to you actually is contrary to God's purposes.)  Do we see it as constructive criticism that can lead us closer to God?  Do we act to correct what is contrary to God's purposes and move toward wholeness?  If so, then the results can be a blessing. 

I think the comment from the other purpose can be meant as a blessing or not.  What we do with it -- that can bring about the blessing.

And sometimes, the comment -- the actual words themselves -- later are seen as a blessing.

Wrong Number, IV

When I look at Jonah, though, I don’t think his problem is a lack of confidence or a lack of desire.  I think Jonah has every confidence that he can go to Ninevah and tell the people there what they are doing wrong, and I imagine he would love to do that!  Jonah was an Israelite, and Israel was conquered by Assyria.  Ninevah is the capitol of Assyria.  You can imagine that Jonah had no love for the people of Ninevah.  His problem is not in telling them what they are doing wrong, and Jonah tells God no (at first) because he knows he can do the job well.  He’s afraid he will do such a good job that the Ninevites will actually repent!  And that God will show them mercy.  Jonah would quickly have said yes to God’s call if he could have controlled the outcome.  Jonah’s reason for saying No is that he was not willing to give up control.  He didn’t trust God enough to surrender everything – even control – to God.

It is interesting to me to read about fishing during Jesus’ time.  There were two kinds of nets that fishermen used from their boats.  One of them was a trawl-net.  It was dragged behind the boat, and became like a large bag, collecting fish as the boat moved.  The kind of net that Peter and Andrew were using was smaller.   The fishermen would throw the net from the side of the boat – its operation required skill and talent.  In order to fish like Simon and Andrew were fishing, the fishermen had to be involved.  Even so, it wasn’t like fishing with a pole.  Simon and Andrew had to throw the net – be involved, and yet they couldn’t choose the fish they caught.  The net would catch all kinds of fish, unlike a using a pole and catching one fish at a time. 

Fishing for people – following the call of God – would in some ways be the same.  We have to say yes to being involved – to casting the net -- and yet we have to give up control of the result.  We have to trust God enough to place the outcome in his hands.

Psalm 65, verses 7 and 8, say “On God rests my deliverance and my honor; my mighty rock, my refuge is in God.  Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him: God is a refuge for us.”  Doesn’t our response to God come down to trust?  We have to trust him enough to place our faith in his choice – he chooses us and calls us.  We have to trust him enough to follow his lead, even when we would rather do something else.  And – maybe hardest of all -- we have to trust him enough to give up control. 

Whatever our excuses are, our faith leads us to the belief that God is worthy of our trust.   God is calling you today – in some way – to let go of your nets and to immediately follow him.  Will you tell God he has called the wrong number?  Or will you say yes, and follow him?

The following four posts were a sermon I preached this past Sunday.

Wrong Number, III

Sometimes I think I say no to God because he is asking me to do something I just don’t want to do.  There are many “I would rathers” in my life.  I would rather sleep in on Saturday than go to the riverfront and help feed homeless people.  I would rather keep some of my financial earnings for myself than give them to the church.  I would rather watch TV in the evenings than work to prepare a sermon.  It’s true that I would often rather follow my own desires than say yes to the work that God is calling me to do.  Maybe you have had that experience.  And yet, when I say yes to God, I often find that I am blessed beyond my expectations. I wonder if the four men called by Jesus that day had known how their lives would end if they would have said yes to him.  

Much of this is according to tradition, but tradition tells us that Simon Peter was crucified by Nero in Rome and Andrew was crucified in Greece.  The book of Acts tells us that James was killed by Herod.  John was the only disciples who lived a long life, but he was banished to the island of Patmos.  Would they have chosen differently if they had known?  I don’t know, but I imagine if any of the four had been asked at the end of their lives, “Do you regret saying yes to Christ?” none of them would have regretted their decisions.  Every call from God places in front of us an opportunity to trust that God is leading us in the right direction – to trust that his judgment is better than ours, and to trust that we will never regret following his lead.

Wrong Number, II

In my church, each week I am responsible for recruiting a lector – a lay person who will read the scripture passage during worship.  I try to ask lots of different people to serve, and I never really know what the answer to my request will be.   One morning I asked Maria (name changed), and her response was, “Oh, I can’t do that.   Ask my husband; he’ll do it, but I could never do that.”   Her response demonstrated a lack of confidence in her abilities.

Do we sometimes hesitate to say yes to God because we don’t think we are good enough, capable enough, righteous enough, talented enough or perfect enough to serve God?

Picture for a moment the events related to us in the passage from the Gospel of Mark. Jesus is walking along shore of the Sea of Galilee, and he calls out to the brothers, Simon and Andrew.   I don’t doubt for a moment that Jesus knew who they were – and that he knew they were not perfect men.   He knew their flaws, he knew their weaknesses.   He knew their sins.   And yet – he called them.   Calls are initiated by God, and he knows us.   He put us together, created our very being, and he knows even the deepest, darkest parts of our souls, and yet HE CALLS US.  He calls us anyway – maybe in spite of who we are, or maybe because of who we are.   William Barclay wrote in his Commentary on the Gospel of Mark, “We should never think so much of what we are as of what Jesus Christ can make us. What can Jesus do in the world through us if we will only trust in his choice of us when he calls?

Five minutes after Maria told me that she could never read scripture in church, she came back up to me and aid, “OK, I’ll do it.” Her confidence in God inspires me.

Wrong Number, I

We get our share of telemarketers who call our house. We don’t have caller ID, but I’ve gotten pretty good at knowing who is a friend calling and who is a telemarketer.  When I answer the phone and there is a pause after I say hello, I know that the computer system is pushing my call through to the salesperson, and I hang up.  I can say “no” right away, before a live person comes on the line.  When God calls, are you ever tempted to do that?  Are you ever tempted to say to God – wrong number – call someone else?

One of the lectionary readings for this week is Mark 1:14-20.  It is the call of Simon, Andrew, James and John.

Whenever I read that passage, I am always struck by the vision of the fishermen dropping their nets, immediately, and following Jesus.  It is as if they don’t hesitate – they don’t go home and discuss the decision with any family members – they don’t struggle through their choice– they just do it.  Immediately.  There is nothing in the passage that leads us to believe that Simon, Andrew, James and John were being called by a stranger.  I have to believe they had met Jesus before, that they had heard him preaching or teaching, that in some ways they had already developed some kind of relationship with him.  Even so, Mark doesn’t leave much doubt that their response was excuse-free.  They dropped their nets, left their lives, and followed Jesus.

One of the other lectionary readings for the week comes from the book of Jonah.  For me, in some ways, Jonah – initially --  has an opposite response when compared to the four men in the Mark passage.  God calls Jonah to go and tell the people of Ninevah that they must change their ways or face destruction.  Jonah’s initial reaction – to run the other way – is so much more like my reaction to God’s call sometimes.  I can relate to Jonah.  In response to God’s call, Jonah goes down to Joppa, gets on a boat, goes down into the ocean, and down into the belly of a fish.  Talk about arguing with God – only at Jonah’s lowest point can he finally say “yes” to God – and even that response is reluctant.  And when the people of Ninevah repent, Jonah is disappointed in God’s mercy.

Are we sometimes more like Jonah in our responses to God than we are like Simon or Andrew?  And why is that the case?  I think we can get so wrapped up in our excuses that they become a trap – to use a fisherman’s image – our excuses can become a net to keep us from serving God.

He is who he is

My son says he has green eyes.  My husband agrees with him, but I think Josh's eyes are hazel. 

The truth is, though, no matter what color I call his eyes or what color he says his eyes are, they are a particular color that is not impacted in the slightest by my perception of the color, by what I call the color, or by how much I insist that I am right.  His eyes are the color they are, independent of my insistence.

I was thinking this morning that the same is true about God.  No matter what I call him, or how I describe him -- no matter how much you or I argue about the "truth" about God -- God is God, and our perception of him does not change who he is or what he does.

Do you think it is the case that sometimes instead of God creating us in his image that we try to re-create God in our own image of who he should be?  He is who he is (sound familiar?), and no matter how much I insist he is a certain way, he is still I Am.

There is much in that to take comfort.

Recommendations

Last week's Friday Five at RevGalBlogPals:

1. Recommend a favorite worship resource or devotional book. I consistently (if by consistently you understand that I mean "mostly, when I remember to...") use the Upper Room's Disciplines as a devotional resource.  I like it better than the Upper Room because each week is written by one author and has a lectionary theme. 
2. Recommend a blog that you like to read that you think others might find enjoyable.  My favorite blog is a knitter's blog -- The Yarn Harlot (www.yarnharlot.com).  I know, if you don't read knitting blogs that you might think I'm exaggerating, but she's hilarious.  
3. Recommend a fiction book that you think people might like.  I'm currently re-reading (for the umptheeth time) Outlander by Diana Gabaldon.  It's one of my very favorites.
4. Recommend a favorite recipe website. O.k., if you aren't into cooking or food, then just recommend a random website that you find useful, hilarious, mind numbing or thought provoking.   I'm not sure I have a favorite recipe website, but I have started using the Paprika app on my iPhone and iPad. Great recipe tool!
5. And for the last recommendation--it's bloggers' choice! Make a recommendation for anything!  I'm also reading Reading the Women of the Bible: A New Interpretation of Their Stories by Tikva Frymer-Kensky.  I would highly recommend it.  I'm working my way through it slowly, a chapter at a time, and savoring it. 

Sorrow into Joy

This came in my email today, from Sound Bites:

Your sorrow itself shall be turned into joy. Not the sorrow to be taken away, and joy to be put in its place, but the very sorrow which now grieves you shall be turned into joy. God not only takes away the bitterness and gives sweetness in its place, but turns the bitterness into sweetness itself -- Charles Spurgeon

Your sorrow will be turned into joy.  Have you thought about that before?  What would that mean?  Soured milk into fresh.  Decay into new.

Can you imagine a bitter relationship changed to one of joy?  It isn't that terrible experiences would be removed -- it's that terrible experiences would be turned into ones of joy.

It's hard to imagine.

Forgiveness and Restoration

As I was preparing the Sunday school lesson I taught today, about Joseph and the restoration of the relationship with his brothers, it was bothering me that Joseph was "playing around" with his brothers.   He accused them of spying, put them in jail, sent them home,, kept the second oldest in jail, made them bring their youngest brother back with, accused him of stealing a silver cup -- he just didn't behave well.

It was a lesson about restoration and forgiveness, and yet Joseph didn't act in a forgiving way until the very end. It seemed to me if the lesson was about forgiveness, then I didn't know what to do with all the manipulation.

But as I was teaching it, I realized that Joseph's reaction just makes him more human.  It had to work toward the restoraton.  He is not perfect, and neither are we.  And yet, God can bring us to a point of understanding that allows us to let go and to forgive.

We can be forgiving, even though we are not perfect.  And through us, God can change the world.

Remnant

What is a remnant?  The Sunday school lesson I'm working on for tomorrow is called "God Preserves a Remnant."  Think about a remnants table at a fabric store.  It’s full of bits and pieces of fabric – odd yardage, leftovers from what someone else wanted.  Usually they are on sale, because no one really wants the leftovers.

Until the time comes when someone comes along and chooses the remnant.  I don’t want to take this analogy too far, but it’s kind of a restoration.  In the buyer’s imagination, what has been found to be useless to one person is restored to usefulness and acceptability by the imagination of someone else.

God specializes in remnants.  None of us are the perfect piece of fabric, with the exact pattern, ready to be use in perfect condition for God’s plan.  But in us he sees potential.  He sees how he can re-create us from what we were to what we can become.

And because of that, we are called to a ministry of remnants, too.  We are called to forgiveness and reconciliation, because we have been forgiven and re-created by God.