Lent is a good time for wandering in the wilderness– a place that naturally causes us to be slow and cautious. We have to go in alone, experience our own journey and receive our own call from God.
If we move too quickly, we might miss something. Or we might get lost. Maybe that’s the point of Mark’s expeditious storyline: we have to first be lost before we are found. Maybe the Holy Spirit draws us out to the wilderness, not so we lose our whereabouts, but to help us lose the stuff that weighs us down and holds us back from a greater challenge – life after Lent. Living our faith out in our communities where the wild things are. The wilderness that Jesus enters is a literal wilderness, where many people do not go. But those who do go often pack for the journey – a tent, sleeping bag, food, you know, the basic essentials. I am not one of those people. While I like my alone time, I’m not the “outdoor” type. I’m more “Indoorsy” as the comedian Jim Gaffigan would joke. I prefer hotel beds and bathrooms as opposed to sleeping on sticks and rocks, and leaving myself vulnerable to wild animals. But it should never go without saying, following Jesus can be a physically risky endeavor. But Jesus is also out there spiritually, and this is a place that even fewer people dare to go. And who can blame them. Those spiritual places force us to see ourselves as we are, without filter or finery. They cause us to change our mindset, especially when we’re content. That’s the thing about Lent. It invites us to places we dare not go and to face the things that make us uncomfortable. It could be physical – sleeping outdoors and waking up covered in a rash. Or it might be spiritual, like facing temptations that lure you away from becoming more like Christ in the world. Maybe God drives us to these wild places because God knows that out of the wild our personal demons and struggles unlock our true strength. Maybe God knows better than us that the fears we face can forge a stronger bond to the Divine. We might be tempted to skirt the wilderness, to turn away from encountering the wild places in our lives. It’s not hard to give over to temptation or to run off with the wild beasts. But if we are to be called disciples, if we are to be renewed for new possibilities and be prepared to truly live in our world as God calls us, we must face the wild. And we must go in alone. Now if we blinked we might miss the hidden gem in in this particular story. And if we don’t slow down we might overlook the fact that there are angels with Jesus. Buried in Mark’s story is a reminder that wherever we are in life, we are never alone. God is right here with us, just as the angels were with Jesus, serving and caring for him. Just as we learned last week, “When we go with Jesus God goes with us.” As Emily Heath describes, “Lent is an opportunity to spend 40 days alone with the one who has been there before.” She asks, “Have you ever had a hard time with faith? Jesus knew what that was like. Do you struggle to make choices? So did Jesus. Are you grieving? Jesus grieved too. Are you preparing yourself for something new, for something you don’t know how you are going to survive? Jesus knew what that was like, too.” Jesus goes out alone with God. And we too are cajoled and prodded by the Holy Spirit to leave our comforts behind to join him. Despite the temptation to believe differently, we are never really alone. The Spirit of God is there to “…help us in our weakness,” says St. Paul, “it intercedes for us” (Romans 8:26-27). Out there we go – to find our footing and strength that will help us move closer to our true selves as both disciples of Christ and children of a loving and giving God. Out there we go – to develop our spiritual muscles that will help us stand up to the spiritual darkness and systematic violence that plague our communities, and threaten harm upon God’s children. Out there we go – to learn how to stand in the fray of hatred and bigotry, to teach and to be the love of God to all people. We might be tempted to think that our faith, spirituality, or religious preferences should be private – between the individual and God. But Jesus teaches us it’s very public as well. Our true self comes alive in our personal relationships with other people. The mass shootings that seem to happen way too frequently force us to look deeply and directly into the eyes of evil, and seek the heart of Christ in every situation. If God is in all things, so too is Christ. We have to take the time to look and find ourselves in that darkness too. You see, God has called us to be the angels that nurse the sick and wounded back to health; to feed the spiritual and literal hungry and starving around the world; to protect each and every child no matter the cost to our standing in society; and raise everyone up to God’s glory and righteousness just as God did for his Son. I hope that you will take the time this Lenten season to really be honest with yourself, and to see what the wilderness is offerings you – a new life, a new ministry, and new ways of being God’s beloved. As you face the tough decisions and tougher realities, know that God looks at you, and cares for you, with nothing but compassion and love, just as God watched over Jesus as he journeyed towards the cross and beyond. The Holy Spirit brings us into the wilderness to discover the joy of being the beloved sons and daughters. “Even if it means going further in the wilderness, even if we feel more lost than ever, I invite you to follow the one who has been there before us. He might not lead us down easy paths, but he will also not lead us astray.” Work Cited Brown Taylor, Barbara. Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 2. [Westminster John Knox: 2008]. p.45. Heath, Emily C. Reflections on the Lectionary. Christian Century, January 31, 2018. p.20. Johnson, Deon. Wilderness. episcopaldigitalnetwork.com. February18, 2018.
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I cannot think of a more beautiful way to celebrate our place in life than with this beautiful song and poem. Take the time (7:00 min) to watch. You'll thank me. Watch Here. Composed by: Alana Levandoski www.alanalevandoski.com With poets: Malcolm Guite, Scott Cairns, Joel McKerrow and Luci Shaw Contemplative art by: Julie Ann Stevens www.julieannstevens.com “I want to be a dandelion.” I’ll admit it’s a strange thing to say, but I do. Sure this is not first thing that comes to mind for most kids when they’re asked what they want be when they grow up. Nor is it something one aspires to or puts on a resume. Kids want to be rugged cowboys and brave princesses. And grown ups – powerful CEO’s and technology gurus. I want to be a dandelion, not a robotics scientist ninja. Which is why it hurts me when people call others “dandelions” as a means to insult them. It is often used as a derogatory word to describe those who seem weak, or who fall apart too easily with the littlest and lightest of effort. I wouldn’t say that about myself, nor would others who know me. This is not to say a dandelion doesn’t possess those qualities. It doesn’t take much more than exhaling to make a single living object fall apart. And as any kid knows, that’s the beauty of them, right? Just yank them out of the ground and blow as hard as you can. Don’t’ forget to make a wish! But if you really think about it, this is more of a defense mechanism than a sign of weakness. Instead of destroying the flower, you actually create more. One single breath brings life to millions of generations of dandelions. It’s not a design flaw; it’s a creative stroke of Divine genius. The more they beat you down, the greater you become. Think about it, it’s true strength in its weakness. Tough and resilient, it is able to adapt to any situation or environment, and thrive! Not even death can stop it from coming back again. It really is the best example of who Jesus is, and the assurance we are given about our own life when we chose to follow him. Lent is a time we challenge ourselves – our strength, endurance and faith. Even the most pious and religious practitioners often have trouble staying on focus with their fast. As you step one day further in your journey, and you begin to see the signs that your fasting is about to ready to fall apart, don’t give up. Instead, be the dandelion. Let those broken pieces float with the Holy Spirit and drop into the heart of God where you can bloom and multiply a hundred times over. Jesus once said, “Truly, Truly I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes him who has sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life” (John 5:24). It’s a little known fact, that after Jesus said these words he blew a dandelion in the evening sky. And the people were amazed by what they heard and saw. Prayer: Lord God, make me strong in my time of weakness. And use my brokenness for your delight, so that my faith may multiply within me, and throughout your creation. Jesus said, "you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength. The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” - Mark 12:30-31
Telephone wires. They are everywhere. They cross my neighborhood like spider webs across my back porch doorway. While they don’t get tangled in my beard when I take the dog outside in the morning, they are equally as invasive and annoying. I have never been able to get used to them. Nor I have ever been able to make them invisible or Photoshop them out of my sight despite my numerous failed attempts to do just that. But I have learned to live with them. Until this happened. I was sitting in my car in the parking lot at the gym. Not ready to get out, I took a moment for myself to say a short prayer. “God, because of your love for me I am alive today. Thank you, Amen.” Short and sweet – all that needed to be said. As I sat there, bathing in the warmth of God’s morning light, it hit me. Actually, it hit my windshield. I sat and stared at the fresh white splat for a moment before rolling my eyes upwards toward the heavens. What did I see? An old, sagging telephone line with an old, sickly pigeon calmly taking care of its business above my car. Yes, thank you God. I was still alive – living in a bird’s bathroom. Life is not like a parking space. We don’t just pull into the nearest open slot and start a life. We aren’t given a choice to decide where we are born, which home, family, or country will become ours. Life is just what we are given, crap et al. However, how we live life is totally up to us. We can be like a pigeon or we can be like Christ. When asked what is the greatest commandment, Jesus answered the first is to love God, and the second is to love your neighbors as yourself. It’s pretty basic stuff. Through love, Jesus teaches, we are able to actively participate in the world in a way that is able to please both the Creator and the created. This can be difficult to do at times; especially when life dumps on you. By practicing the kind of love that God asks of us – a love that is inclusive, forgiving, and non-judgmental – can help us to bridge peace throughout our communities. It allows us to live in harmony with God and others in spite of where we reside. I wonder if this love applies to pigeons? Especially to the one mocking me from above. So, I prayed again, this time for guidance. After all Jesus says, “If you abide in me and my words abide in you, ask anything from the Father and it will be given to you” (John 15:7). Ironic isn’t it, that in an age of satellite communication, prayer is still the best way to reach God. Every word and emotion we send up in prayer moves through these invisible phone lines that crisscross the world and stretch across the galaxies, until they reach those angelic operators standing by. And do you know what the best thing is about these invisible phone lines? There’s no place for pigeons to sit and do their business. Prayer: God, thank you for loving me, and for teaching me how to love others as Jesus did. May your desire for the world be my purpose today. I offer you this prayer in Jesus' name, Amen. Yesterday, 17 children where gunned down and killed while attending classes in a local high school in southeastern Florida. The murderer was Nikolas Cruz, who used an AR-15 assault riffle which he legally bought at age 18. One hundred and fifty bullets were fired in a matter of minutes. Sadly, nothing will be done to reverse this trend that has plagued our society. Guns Murder People.
Click here to read about the children who were murdered for no reason. Amaryllis bulbs are a strange gift to give someone. It pains me to say this because they are a strong and hardy plant with an elegant and gorgeous flower. Their only problem is (in my opinion) they take a long time to mature to this beautiful state. Last Christmas we received a box from a dear friend. Inside the box was a lovely woven hemp basket that was stuffed with some kind of botanical peat moss, which seemed to be hiding something fragile. Buried under this natural padding were three unattractive lumps. And on the top was a note that simply read Merry Christmas. Per usual in our household, my wife quickly recognized the gift for what it was, and set the artistic basket aside underneath the window in our living room. Day after day, week after week, month after month I stared at those ugly lumps. Like moles growing on one’s balding head, I was some how disturbed by their presence. Yet I could not take my eyes off them. Sometimes I would sit on the couch and imagine what would grow from under this dull, khaki-colored canvas. What color might they bring? Would they be fragrant or clash with our home décor? But most of the time when I would get frustrated because like a pet to care for, I have this basket to have to look after without really getting anything in return. So yeah, Amaryllis bulbs are a strange gift; especially for a person whose time and patience is limited. Then one day, a little spear of green broke through the peat. It reminded me of a small child inside his mother’s belly, his tiny foot kicked against the protective layer to make his presence known. Just like the expected parent my excitement shifted. No longer was I staring at this basket with contempt, but with anticipation. Yet the birth cycle was not complete. So I would have to wait. And pretend that tiny green shoot wasn’t a tongue sticking out of the ground to mock me. Amaryllis bulbs make a strange gift because we want to tear open the paper, rip through the box, and begin playing with our gift immediately. But nature doesn’t always work that way. Neither does its Creator. Things take time to grow. In a world that demands instantaneous gratification, we often forget how to sit in the quiet and allow the mysteries of the world to be. This gift was a great reminder for me to simply trust that something greater was at work. And no matter how hard I prod, plead, or pray I am at the mercy of something other than my own self. What a gift it is to finally realize God is making beautiful things happen whether we know it, see it, or comprehend it. Even when we doubt, or demand immediate attention for your prayers, but hear nothing back, we have to be patient. God is at work. For you! God tells a young prophet, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you” (Jeremiah 1:5). His story reminds us that God has a plan, but we have to patiently wait until it is revealed. As the psalmist sings, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10) I am the bulb in the knitted hemp basket. You are too. Together we have to sit still, covered in darkness and let God bath us in golden sunlight until that day we pop up and say, “Here I am!” We are the gift! As we stand tall, with our bloom in full display, we become a thing of real beauty; a living, growing, thriving, testimony to the divine power and mystery of our Creator. Prayer: Holy Creator, you have made us in your image and consecrated us for your purpose. Empower us to live patiently and faithfully so that we might die peacefully and beautifully, knowing like the amaryllis we will rise and live again in the Easter Resurrection. Amen. As I reflect on my Lenten journey, I am often drawn to this promise given by Jesus who said to his disciples, “In a little while you will not see me any more, and then a little while later you will see me” (Jn. 16:16). He goes to explain that there will be times of sadness and gladness, suffering and joy, and yet in it all God will be there; ever-faithful and ever-present.
Lent is a time of waiting. Because some days will be easier than others, how we wait is equally as important as what we are waiting for. We can use our time waiting passively, believing that Easter is just around the corner. Or we can wait actively, knowing that Easter has already come. In choosing to follow Christ there is no room for passive waiting any more than there is room for passive faith. As Jesus might say, there’s no time to bury the dead, or say good-bye to our family (Mt. 8:18-22). There is work to be done. So in Christ’s name we are called to live out our faith knowing today is the day that we will see him again. Just as his disciples walked with Jesus towards the cross, we too are walking with Christ right here, right now. Even as we struggle to keep our Lenten fast, we hold fast to the promise that Christ is always with us, because Christ is within us. The resurrection has already happened, and it continues to do so every day through us. Lent is an invitation to celebrate each day as if it were Easter. It is a time to actively love our neighbors, uphold justice, forgive our enemies, and live fully and faithfully to the good news of Jesus Christ. By recognizing in others the same Spirit that is within us, we are able to live out our lives in accord with the One who has already come, died and has been raised. Prayer: Lord God, be ever present in my life so that I may be your visible presence to those who seek your love, mercy and grace through Christ Jesus. Amen. *First published in Lenten Devotional 2018, for the National Association of Congregational Christian Churches
Beyond the physical grandeur, mountains make great metaphors for life.
For example, she’s suffering in a mountain of pain; the kids are overwhelmed with a mountain of homework; that poor family has been buried under a mountain of debt, and so on. In the bible, mountains often set the stage for crucial events. Noah lands his ark on Mount Ararat. Abraham almost kills Isaac on Mount Moriah. Moses brings down the Ten Commandments from Mount Sinai. Jesus gives his inaugural sermon on a mount. Forty days after his Easter resurrection, the disciples will watch in awe from the top of a mountain as Jesus ascends to heaven. In Mark’s telling of the Transfiguration, Jesus climbs up a high mountain, with only Peter, James, and John by his side. A cloud comes over them and Jesus begins to transform in front of their very eyes. The men react with normal fear and awe, as most of us might. But before they can piece together what’s going on, God enters the scene and confirms Jesus’ identity. “This is my Son the beloved” God declares before giving them the imperative, “Listen to him.” Given all we have learned about Epiphany, the Transfiguration is one of the best revelations there is. Upon this mountain there is a dramatic and sudden manifestation of the divine truth as God reveals His eternal glory in and upon Jesus. What I really love about this story is not the epiphany but how God invites us to be a part of it. “Listen to him,” God says, “Watch and learn.” Jesus calls us to follow him. And as we move towards Lent, God will reveal to us exactly what that entails. It’s fitting we end our series on Epiphany with one of the greatest revelations of Christ’s glory. “The Mountain,” as Susan Butterworth writes, “is a bridge between heaven and earth.” Following Christ across this divide, we see God and all his divine glory. This is why it is so important to walk beside Jesus and listen to what he has to say. The great mystics of every religion believe there are many paths up the mountain to meet God. Like life, those paths may be rough or smooth, steep or gentle, boring or colorful, tiring or exhilarating. Yet, they’re all on the same spiritual mountain, and ultimately they all converge at the very top where the Divine meets us in our humanity. I do not deny this to be true, or doubt the fact that God can reveal God’s self to whomever God choses. What the mystics teach us is the truth that God is All-in-all. In all of us, in all places, always present, always ready to be with us, to rescue us from ourselves. If you believe that to be true, then that truth must be true in all ways. The Bible tells us Jesus is God’s beloved. To walk with him, and follow in his footprints, is to walk with God Incarnate; the One who calls out to us and invites us to experience to the greatest epiphany called life. Jesus is my spiritual Sherpa – he guides me up and down the mountainside showing me my eternal glory. As it is with any journey, life is bound to be tricky, slippery, filled with life threatening challenges and difficult obstacles. But never forget when you’re in step with Jesus, God’s in step with you. The epiphanies we received these last few weeks remind us that God is bigger than any mountain, stronger than any struggle, more powerful than any demon. There is nothing in life that can overpower God or replace God’s love for you. You are the beloved child of God. The only real obstacle that can get in your way... is you. I have a cousin who was born and raised on an island (a metaphor all of its own). After reading Ernest Hemingway’s great story “The Snows of Kilimanjaro,” Diane made a decision to face her fears and conquer that mountain Hemmingway so famously wrote about. Up until this point, she had never flown on an airplane. She had never climbed anything beyond a tree or a treadmill. And the only thing she knew about Africa was what she read in books. But that didn’t stop her. Something greater than her fear was tugging on her heart, and the only way to discover what it was would be to take the 24-hour flight, face her anxieties, and conquer that mountain. Overwhelmed by the new life that surrounded her, Diane saw God not only on the mountaintop, but in the beautiful smiles of the African people, in the diversity of life that roamed the open plains around the Serengeti, and of course within herself. By this one event, you might say, she was trans-figured; reshaped and renewed by the Spirit of God in Christ. All because she listened to the words that God spoke on her heart. This is a great reminder that mountains, real or metaphorical, are natural. Some are born out of violent tectonic shifts, others out of messy volcanic eruptions or an unexpected earthquake. The wind, rain, floods or mankind might be able to beat them down and scar them up, but mountains will not go away. They just take on a new shape and form. As a part of God’s creation, so do we. When you face trials and tribulations, when life comes at you hard and fast, when the world seems too big to handle, Jesus says, “Come to me, all who are weary and I will give you rest.” He tells us to lay our burdens on him, for his yoke is light (Matthew 11:28-30). What a great way to begin our Lenten journey, than to walk with Christ, empty handed and burden-free towards the cross and resurrection. There will always be tough times ahead, and plenty of twisting and rocky roads to climb, but they cannot break us, only strengthen us. The bumps and bruise we acquire along the way trans-figure us…so that we become human witness to God’s divine glory, here and now. When we’re in step with Jesus, God is in step with us, moving through us, healing us, casting aside the demons and obstacles that seek to throw us off the path we’re on. When you’re in step with Jesus, God is in step with you opening your eyes to the endless possibilities of joy and peace upon the mountain. If we keep our senses of humor and our willingness to celebrate life fully and faithfully, the journey can enrapture us and transform our humanity into divinity. We just have to pick a path and start walking. And from there, God will make us shine brightly with Jesus. Someone once to ask me how I know God actually exists. The answer I gave was way too long for this simple post. Suffice it to say I made my point and that person left a bit overwhelmed. Like Costco, God works in bulk and abundance.
Later, after giving it some more thought I wish I would have just said, “It’s not so much that I know for certain that God exists, but that God is certain that I exist.” Writing on this idea, J.I. Packer makes this observation: ”What matters supremely, therefore, is not, in the last analysis, the fact that I know God, but the larger fact which underlies it—the fact that He knows me. I am graven on the palms of His hands. I am never out of His mind. All my knowledge of Him depends on His sustained initiative in knowing me. I know Him because He first knew me, and continues to know me. He knows me as a friend, one who loves me; and there is no moment when His eye is off me, or His attention distracted from me, and no moment, therefore, when his care falters.” I love the idea that God can look at the calluses on his hands, and see me. God works hard to know me in the way that God pulls me out of the pits I fall into. Not the best theological observation, but I'm still here, which means God is too. God knows me. God’s know you too. |
Ian MacdonaldAn ex-copywriter turned punk rock pastor and peacemaker who dedicates his life to making the world a better place for all humanity. "that they all might be one" ~John 17:21“Prius vita quam doctrina.”
~ St. Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) * “Life is more important than doctrine.”
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