The Separation

The doors open, and children begin to walk down the center of the aisle, to the middle of the sanctuary.  They are more restrained than usual: they have a big responsibility to do.  Each one, from the oldest boy to the littlest girl, holds a palm branch high above their head.  As they reach the center of the sanctuary, they gather around the altar, and begin to sing a song.  As the song continues, the children begin to pass their palm branches around the sanctuary, calling the rest of us to the altar.  

One is passed to me, and I make my way towards the altar, remembering the first time I had this experience.  My eyes are closed in worship, and my palm branch is high above my head, Hosanna! Hosanna to the King.  I think of the first time this happened.  What it must have been like to be so close to Jesus. I think.  Oh, that I could have experienced that.  I open my eyes and am greeted by the separation. 

It is tall, wooden, and it surrounds the Lord's table in the center of the sanctuary.  The Separation.  

Because we sit in a circle, it's normal to look across the sanctuary during church and see the faces of brothers and sisters worshiping God.  But not during Lent.  During Lent, the separation is put up to remind us that, if not for Christ's death and resurrection, we would be separated from God.  That, apart from the blood of Christ, we are separated.  

And then I thought about the Triumphal Entry again.  This is what it was like for them.  They were physically close to Jesus, but they didn't really know him.  They were separated. One day they call for Jesus to save them, and just a few days later, they call for his murder.

I stood there and contemplated this, and its reflection in my own life.  Even though, through the blood of Christ, the separation is gone.  I live like it's still there.  

After we returned to our seats, we read the liturgy together.  It went through the story of holy week, and together, as a congregation, our response shifted: in the beginning, we were to reply "Hosanna to the Son of David." and by the end "Crucify Him. Crucify Him. Crucify Him." 

Dear friends, how often is this very drama repeated in our lives?  How often do we live the life of one separated from Christ, even though we have been brought near?  As we reflect this week on what Christ has done, let us strive to understand the realness of the separation, and the depth, beauty, and sufficiency of Christ to bring us near, that on Easter, we may truly realize what it is we celebrate.  

The God of the universe, the savior of the world, has eliminated the separation and brought us near to Himself.  

Keep on Sinning?

My sophomore year of college, I ordered a book.  It's a little red book with two bookmarks, and a golden cross on the front.  It took me a long time to order it, because I kept trying to decide whether or not it was "okay" to have the Book of Common Prayer.  I don't remember how I decided, but I eventually went ahead and ordered it.  I have become rather fond of the BCP (as I now affectionately call it).  In the BCP is a prayer I like to pray (and one I feel the need to pray rather often): 

"Most merciful God, 

We confess that we have sinned against you

in thought, word, and deed,

by what we have done, 

and by what we have left undone.

We have not loved you with our whole heart;

we have  not loved our neighbors as ourselves. 

We are truly sorry and we humbly repent. 

For the sake of your son Jesus Christ, 

have mercy on us and forgive us; 

that we may delight in your will,

and walk in your ways,

to the glory of your Name. Amen. "

When I read this prayer, slowly, deliberately, I have to pause.  I have to stop and think about what I say and what I do.  I have to stop.  "seriously?" I think, "that was a sin?" "oh." This prayer forces me to stop and to think about my thoughts, words, and deeds.  About the holy law of God that I offend so often. 

I think it's very easy for us to remember how merciful God is.  I have learned a lot about grace lately, and it is a wonderful, beautiful thing. "By one man's obedience, many were made righteous." That is a beautiful, beautiful thing, and it is cause for rejoicing.  But I feel like I need to echo Paul's next words again, because, even though we would say we don't believe this is true, I think that we do.  

"Are we to continue in sinning so that grace may abound?" 

"Keep on sinning so God can keep on forgiving?" 

Of course not! We reply.  We know the answer to this question, but I think that we live as though our sin doesn't really matter to God.  At least, I do. 

Our submission to pride.  to fear.  to selfishness. to anger.  to unforgiveness. We think that those things don't really matter to God. 

But they do, and I think that until we have a healthy idea of how serious our sin is against God, we won't be able to understand how to truly forgive other people.  Why? Well, I'll get into that tomorrow, I guess.    

For now, I'm going to reflect, to try and think about what I do-- and what I don't do-- differently. Those aren't simply things that hurt me.  Though they do. oh, they do.  The sins I commit don't just hurt other people.  Though they do that also.  

My sin.  Your sin.  Is an offence against a Holy, Righteous, Majestic, Marvelous God. Don't take it lightly.  

Is this a sober way to end?  Yes.  But sometimes it's good to be serious.

Friends, consider with me the gravity of our refusal to come underneath the Lordship of Christ. 

A Day of Faithfulness to You

January 15: Psalm 36:5-10

"Your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds,

 Your righteousness is like the mountains of God."

 I find it difficult to express with words how this verse speaks to me.  The faithfulness of God is one of my favorite things to think about, and I love the imagery in this Psalm.

I have tried and tried to begin to write something about the faithfulness of God, but I keep remembering specific circumstances in which God was so faithful.  Even when I was not.

Pause to remember, today, how faithful our God is.  His faithfulness is bigger than anything we can imagine, even if we have very good imaginations.  Let's employ our imaginations to remembering the faithfulness of God in our own lives, even when we have been unfaithful, and to encourage our hearts to trust that he will be faithful in time to come.

Father, help us to remember your faithfulness in our own lives, and, as we do, dear savior, make us faithful.  May today be "a day of faithfulness to you."

A Thoughtless Lapse

January 14, Isaiah 62:1-5


I really like reading chapters that deal with the redemption of Israel, like this one does.  But, I always feel like I need a bit more information when I read one of the prophets, because I feel like I might be missing something.  I wonder if the people of Israel were this way, too.

I think they might have been.  Isaiah warns them against becoming complacent in their sin, encouraging them with the concept of the watchmen in verse 6.  If the righteousness of Israel is to "go forth as brightness," then there certainly must be some watchfulness, a sense of waiting, of looking for the thing that they're missing.  D.A. Carson writes that the image of the watchmen is a warning of "judgement to come where there is no repentance, or where there is a thoughtless lapse into sin."

I stop to reflect on how many times I've had "thoughtless lapses into sin."  The times I've slipped into gossip without thinking about it.  The times I've chosen to have a bad attitude, to complain, or to harbor bitterness against someone else.  The times I've become lazy in my care for others.  My list could go on for a very, very long time .  And, if you're honest with yourself, I bet yours could, too.

If I stop and think about it, a "thoughtless lapse into sin" should be a scary thing.  Because, if I'm being thoughtless, then I'm obvously somewhat desensitized to whatever sin I'm lapsing into.  And I wonder if this is because I'm missing something.

D.A. Carson writes that this chapter is about much more than just the restoration of the physical Jerusalem.  He says that it is also about the anticipation of the Kingdom of God to come.  Of heaven.

Suddenly, it makes sense, all of the hope, beauty, and victory promised in this chapter make sense.  And the "thoughtless lapse into sin" begins to fade away.  Because, maybe this is what we're missing.  Maybe we need to remember that this our life isn't just about us.  What we do.  The number of days we can plan out ahead of us.  It's about the Kingdom of God to come, the Kingdom of God that is coming.  Maybe, if we lived like this, as subjects of this Kingdom and its King, then our "thoughtless lapses into sin" would become less and less frequent.


And maybe then, we wouldn't be missing something.

"May we learn to tell the truth with our lives, following him who is the way, the truth, and the life." (Tom Currie, Prayers for the Road)

No Longer a Slave, but a Son.

January 13: Galatians 4:4-7

The family of one of my close friends is getting ready to adopt a baby boy.  I love listening to my friend talk about this little boy.  Her eyes light up, and her naturally contagious smile is even more astounding when she talks about this little boy's becoming a part of her family.  She jokes about bringing him to school with her, and she hangs pictures of him on her wall.  She has told me stories about the way that her family interacts with him, and one thing is incredibly clear.  This little boy is very, very loved.

As I read this passage, I was reminded of this little boy.  I thought of the way that he is loved by my friend's family.  He hasn't done anything to warrant their adopting him.  He still wakes up crying in the middle of the night.  He'll need a lot of training, and it'll cost my friend's family money to take care of giving him food and clothes.  This little boy hasn't done anything to deserve the love that my friend and her family are showing him, but every day, their love for him grows.  It's a beautiful, wonderful thing to think that this is the way God loves us.

"No longer a slave, but a son."

That's nice, I thought as I read this passage, but some things really suck right now.  I know I'm a child of God and everything, but seriously?  Sometimes I feel so sad.  So lonely.  So hopeless.  

"No longer a slave, but a son."

Again, I read on. Past the passage suggested for the day, on to Galatians 4:9

"But now that you have come to know God, or rather are known by God, how can you turn back again to the weak and worthless elementary principles of the world, whose slaves you want to be once more?"

 A lot of times, I choose to reject the hope that I find in scripture.  I choose to reject joy and to hold on to the things that are familiar to me.  When I read scripture and say, "that's nice, but..."  I am choosing not to "entrust my soul to a faithful creator."  I am rejecting my place as a daughter, and demanding the life of a slave.  It would be the very same as this little boy growing up and continuing to live like a foster child, even though he has been adopted by my friend's family.

Well, that's ridiculous!

Yes, yes it is.

All of this is not to say that we ignore our feelings of sadness, lonliness, grief, or pain, but that we run to the one whom we call "Abba, Father," rather than running from him.  Rather than rejecting his adoption because things aren't easy, we cling to the Truth that our Father has spoken to us and entrust our souls to his unfailing love.

It is not easy.  It will always be more painful to choose joy, because, when we choose joy, we have to surrender control of our suffering to someone else.

But that someone else is very capable, very trustworthy, and very loving.

God, teach us to willingly accept our dependence on your Holy Spirit and to cast ourselves onto the one by whose unfailing love and grace we may cry "Abba, Father."

Slacking...

So, obviously, I've been slacking a lot.

However, that shall be no more.

Usually, when I slack at something, I avoid it so that I don't have to deal with my shortcomings.

Not so with this, I will simply pick up where I have left off.

See you all tomorrow!

Trips to Starbucks

January 2, James 3:13-18

Anyone who has lived in a college dormitory knows that community can sometimes be a difficult thing to build and to maintain.  I’ve been thinking about this very issue a lot lately, How is community built? What part do we play in that, and what part does God play? 

I’m sure many of us know from experience that a place with poor community is a very unpleasant place to live.  I really don’t like unhealthy community.  As I look back at my experience with it, I find a common factor.

It’s name is Starbucks.

You see, when I find myself in communities which I don’t like, or which are unhealthy, I tend to pull back and retreat into myself.  In order to spend as little time in my living space as possible, I spend outrageous amounts of time at Starbucks.  A few years ago, I didn’t like Starbucks coffee very much, but, for a few difficult months, the area I lived in only had one close coffee shop, and it was Starbucks.  So I actually taught myself to like Starbucks coffee.

Rather than fighting to be a part of a healthy community, I simply withdraw—waiting for everyone else to get it together so that we can live in peace.  You might not go to Starbucks, but is it possible you do this too?  

As we see in James, this is clearly not an okay thing to do. James writes

“Where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice.  But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial, and sincere.”

Oh. Ouch.  I am certainly not discounting the value of spending time in quiet and in solitude, but for me, my Starbucks trips are often not an effort to be alone with God for the benefit of the people I’m living with.  They’re an effort to escape from the situation I find myself in.  A selfish attempt to avoid the pain of unhealthy community. 

But, this whole “wisdom from above” thing sounds like a pretty good deal.  I started to think about what would happen if I began to seek God and his wisdom. Maybe those trips to Starbucks would grow less and less frequent.  Maybe we would begin to see how God begins to transform our hearts: replacing bitter jealousy with mercy and peacefulness, and developing impartiality and gentleness rather than selfish ambition.  What if all of the time we spend at Starbucks was spent pouring into our living spaces: our homes, our dorms, our apartments, neighborhoods?

James is pretty clear on that, too:

“A harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.”

So, let’s think, friends… What’s your Starbucks? Why do you go there?  What does it look like if you seek the wisdom from above?

Let’s not be people who make trips to Starbucks.  Let’s be people who make peace.

With Hope.

January 1: Psalm 8

"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!"

I love the way this Psalm starts. It's the way I want to start my year, I think-- the way I hope to start each day of my year.  This chapter reminds us of the beauty of God: his handiwork, his faithfulness, his care for us. Quite simply, it reminds us of our reason for being alive.  At least, that's what it did for me.  I have been a bit nervous about this year, particularly because it is going to be full of a lot of new challenges for me.


Today's reading and prayer reminded me of the proper attitude I should have in such circumstances.  The last line of Walter C. Sutton's prayer for New Years Day is this:

"Grant us the wisdom to learn from the past, to use today well, and to look forward to tomorrow with hope."

I started thinking about how we can possibly look forward to the unknown with hope.  And I remembered.

It's just as Psalm 8 reminds us:  The Lord reigns.  He is sovereign. Furthermore, though he is so supreme, the Psalmist wonders at the fact that God cares for us.  Not because of who we are, but because of who He is.

This realization is so freeing to me as I imagine all of the unknowns of the new year.  God, in his sovereignty has created this world, and none of it is outside of his control.  Rather than beginning my day wondering how on earth I am going to accomplish everything that is required of me, I pray that I begin my days in this way:

"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!"

 Furthermore, I pray that this reminds me to rest in the one who holds the world, seeking his glory, not my own.