Tag Archives: Failure

Chapter-a-Day

Needed Words

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“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.’”
Mark 16:6-7 (NIV)

Wendy and I read an article over the weekend in The Free Press about The Absurd Genius of Netflix Christmas Films. Apparently, Netflix has been producing an entire genre of Christmas themed romantic comedies aimed specifically at the Millennial generation. Hot Frosty?! Yes, it’s what you think, and you don’t want to know. No thank you. I enjoy a number of modern Christmas movies, but I’ll always be an It’s a Wonderful Life kind of guy.

In my lifetime, the Christmas movie genre has become a thing. Yes, there were a handful of classic Christmas movies that played annually on the four broadcast television channels we could get in home growing up. But then cable television became a thing with tons of channels looking for Christmas programming to attract viewers, including the Hallmark Channel. You might not know it, but no one had really heard or remembered It’s a Wonderful Life when I was a kid. It took on a life of its own because it had fallen into obscurity and no one claimed the rights to it at that time. This meant that every cable channel could broadcast it for free, and they did. For a few years it was on every channel all the time. Between that and the invention of home video cassette recorders, millions rediscovered the movie for the classic it is. Everyone today knows the story of George Bailey, and that’s a good thing.

I have a file in a drawer in my office. In this file are words of encouragement I’ve received from people across my life journey. I keep the cards, hand written notes, postcards, and the like because one of the things I’ve learned about myself across the years is that I have a penchant for occasionally spiraling into a pessimistic funk. People are always surprised to learn this, but you can ask Wendy. It’s a thing. Like George Bailey, I start to think that nothing I do in this life really matters. It’s funny to even write that sentence because it sounds silly and dramatic enough to be in a Hallmark Christmas movie. Still, that’s the point. I occasionally need a reminder that my feelings are silly and dramatic, and the words in that file folder remind me of that. I honestly can’t remember the last time I actually opened that file, but I know it’s there.

I thought of this in the quiet this morning because I noticed that when the angel announces to the three women that Jesus had risen from the dead, Mark records that the angel says, “tell his disciples, and Peter.”

When we last saw Peter in the story a couple of chapters ago, the rooster had just crowed. Peter’s rock solid commitment to be loyal to Jesus to the death had crumbled into three fear-driven lies. He claimed he didn’t even know Jesus.

It’s not hard for me to imagine Peter’s shame. He was the man Jesus had appointed leader of The Twelve. Peter was one of Jesus trusted inner circle. Jesus depended on Peter. It was Jesus who turned “Simon” into “Peter, the rock.” When it came to the crucial moment when Peter assumed that Jesus needed him the most, “the rock” turned out to be pea gravel. He failed the test. His faith in Jesus turned out to be a sham, and Jesus’ faith in him was all for nothing. At least, I can imagine Peter muttering that to himself.

Then, the angel names Peter specifically. Tell the disciples and Peter.

Peter, this isn’t finished.

Peter, don’t think for a second that you’ve been relieved of duty.

Peter, meet Jesus in Galilee. He needs to have a word with you.

Life is a marathon, and along the way I believe every person hits the wall, not just once, but multiple times. Along the race, we need occasional reminders like Clarence provided George, like the words in that file folder in the drawer behind me, like the angel gave Peter through the ladies at Jesus’ empty tomb.

I’d like to wish you and your loved ones a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I am taking a break from this chapter-a-day journey for the rest of the holiday season, and will see you back here, Lord willing, in 2025. If you need a fix, please remember there’s an entire archive of past posts on the website at: https://tomvanderwell.com/2019/09/02/chapter-a-day-posts-by-book/

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!

Chapter-a-Day

When the Rooster Crows

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Immediately the rooster crowed the second time. Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken to him: “Before the rooster crows twice you will disown me three times.” And he broke down and wept.
Mark 14:72 (NIV)

I confess, my life journey is dotted with mistakes, poor choices, and moral failures. I’ve made some doozies. Buy me a pint sometime, and I’ll tell you some stories. I assume you have a few stories of your own. I’ve never met a human being who didn’t have them. I have met a million human beings who pretend they don’t.

Today’s chapter tells two of the most epic fails in history. One is Judas, one of The Twelve disciples who betrays Jesus for cash considerations and sends the Son of God to His execution. The other is Peter, Jesus’ own appointed leader of The Twelve, who staunchly voiced his life-or-death commitment to stand faithfully by Jesus’ side no matter what happened. Then, when the prophesied events kick into high gear, Peter reneges on his promise just as Jesus’ predicted.

As I read this story again in the quiet this morning, I pondered the fact that Jesus’ knew The Twelve would abandon Him. It was prophesied by the ancient Hebrew prophet Zechariah, and Jesus quotes it. Jesus even knew the number of times Peter would deny Him and the time that it would happen. Luke adds a dramatic detail that Mark leaves out; The fact that the moment after the third denial when the rooster crows, Jesus was being led away and He looked right at Peter.

Hello Shame, my old friend.

Of course, I know the rest of the story. John shares that after the resurrection, along the very shores of Galilee where Jesus first called Peter to follow Him, Jesus would ask Peter three times to voice his love for Him. Three affirmations of love for three denials. Restoration, redemption, and the launch of a new chapter of Peter’s story.

Even our mistakes and failures are part of the Story. Jesus knew it before Peter even committed his denials.

In the quiet this morning, I can’t help but glance back at my own epic fails. They are a part of my story. They’ve taught me lessons about the depths of my own depravity, my utter need for God’s endless grace, and the blessings of repentance and redemption. Mistakes, poor choices, and moral failures. The truth is that the most important season of my life spiritually was when the rooster crowed for me, and I stopped pretending I didn’t have them.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
Chapter-a-Day

“In the course of time…”

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In the course of time…
1 Chronicles 18:1a (NIV)

"In the course of time…" (CaD 1 Chr 18) – Wayfarer

Yesterday was Father’s Day here in the States. I was honored to be asked to deliver the message among a local gathering of Jesus’ followers near Des Moines, so Wendy and I took off first thing in the morning. We have friends among the gathering there and were joined by other friends who accompanied us for a wonderful lunch. We headed over to spend the rest of the afternoon with our kids and grandkids. Last night, we had other friends who joined us for a semi-regular Sunday evening visit which usually turns into a debrief on our respective lives. It was a really lovely day.

As Wendy and I made the drive home, I sat holding Wendy’s hand and found myself thinking about our lives together. We are so blessed. Life is so good.

Not that our lives have been perfect. In fact, they have been far from it. Wendy and I both have dots on our respective timelines in which we made major mistakes in life. We both have had seasons of life marked by serious moral lapses. The skeletons aren’t in the closet, either. We have been open about these things. Why? They are part of our respective stories.

The Chronicler begins today’s chapter with the words, “In the course of time.” This is his way of telling us as readers that he is being loose with the chronology, and he has been. The Chronicler has chosen to present David’s story in a certain way. He begins by presenting David as the “priest-king” who “was a man after God’s own heart.” He wants us to see that David put God first as David brings the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem and restores the tent temple of worship and the sacrificial system as prescribed by the Law of Moses.

Now, the Chronicler shifts to telling us about the victorious warrior-king who defeated the surrounding kingdoms. He’s also sure to point out that it was through these victories that David collected the gold, silver, and bronze that would eventually be used to furnish and decorate Solomon’s Temple.

It’s a perfectly lovely big-picture description of David. He put God first and was blessed and victorious…in the course of time.

The Chronicler leaves out some of the details. David wasn’t perfect. He had dots on his own personal timeline marked by mistakes. He had seasons of serious moral lapses. The Chronicler, however, is looking back through the lens of history and presenting the larger story of David that he sees. He’s presenting the big-picture view of what God was doing in the larger context of the Great Story that God is telling from Genesis to Revelation.

In our cynical, tabloid-driven culture of tell-all scandals and true-crime podcasts and documentaries, the Chronicler’s version of events might strike one as dishonest. In the quiet this morning, I find it to be an honest view of God’s grace and mercy.

The most beautiful and gracious thing that Jesus offers is forgiveness. God through the prophet Isaiah said, “I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more.”

Thank God that I am not defined in His eyes by the mistakes I’ve made, many many failures, or the seasons of my moral lapses. When God “remembers them no more” all that is left of the story is the person God has been growing, cultivating, pruning, and transforming me to be “in the course of time.”

I am so blessed. Life is so good.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Mary and the Dudes

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Mary and the Dudes (CaD Mk 14) – Wayfarer

While he was in Bethany, reclining at the table in the home of Simon the Leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, made of pure nard. She broke the jar and poured the perfume on his head.
Mark 14:3 (NIV)

In today’s chapter, Mark provides a Cliff Notes summary of the fateful night of Jesus’ arrest. As I read the familiar episodes, I was struck at the contrast between Mary’s anointing of Jesus (she is not named in Mark’s biography of Jesus, but John names her, the sister of Lazarus) with expensive perfume, and the actions/behaviors of the Twelve.

Jesus has now been speaking of His arrest, suffering, and death for some time. The response of the Twelve has ranged from silence to confusion to outright disapproval. Mark’s version of events in today’s chapter reveal the behavior of the Twelve to be disagreeable and inattentive to the weight of the moment.

Mary, on the other hand, seems to see what no one else sees. She alone embraces what is about to happen, understands the weight of it, and responds by embracing what Jesus has said would happen. Mary alone acts as a willing participant. Her actions are to bless Jesus before His passion and to metaphorically prepare Him for death. Mary is the only person who seems to see and humbly accept. And, she’s criticized for it.

Jesus’ chosen disciples, meanwhile, can’t believe one of them would betray Him. They can’t stay awake with Him, even after He asks of them this small favor. They can’t stay and stand with Jesus in His moment of need. They can’t even admit they know Him, when confronted with multiple opportunities to do so.

In the quiet this morning, I can’t help but imagine myself in the roles of both Mary and the Twelve. Luke shares that Mary was one to sit at the feet of Jesus and hang on His every word to the point that her sister was indignant (everyone, it would seem, gets indignant with Mary). As much as I would like to think that I would have Mary’s insight, I am reminded that it came at the cost of ignoring urgent things in order to invest in important things. Her devotion to “asking, seeking, and knocking” appear to be the precursor to her spiritual perception.

Have I sacrificed things distracting and urgent to invest myself in Jesus as Mary did?

I have to confess that I identify with the dudes…

Present, but imperceptive.

Great intentions, but greatly inattentive.

Braggadocios during warm-ups, but bungling in the game.

Of course, today’s chapter is not the end of the story. The dudes will keep following. They will learn. They will turn the world upside down.

I’m looking out the window at the lake as I type this. Another day has dawned, and so my story isn’t over either. I take hope in that this morning. Like the dudes, I’ll keep following, too. I’ll keep learning. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even turn a few things upside-down before this wayfaring stranger’s journey is over.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Contrasting Identity

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Contrasting Identity (CaD John 18) – Wayfarer

“You aren’t one of this man’s disciples too, are you?” [a servant girl] asked Peter.
He replied, “I am not.”
John 18:17 (NIV)

One of the themes I’ve been watching in John’s biography of Jesus is that of identity. John’s entire biography is thematically told around seven metaphorical “I am” statements that Jesus made paralleled by seven major miracles. These are not casual choices on John’s part.

When God revealed Himself to Moses, Moses asked God to identify Himself. God identified himself as “I Am.” Jesus’ seven “I am…” statements with their metaphors are a subtle proclamation John is making as to the complete divinity of Jesus as the Christ, while the miracles form a complete witness to divine power Jesus displayed in that claim of divinity. The number seven in the Great Story is the number of “completeness” (e.g. seven days of creation).

The seven “I am” statements:

  • “I am the Bread of Life” (6:35, 48)
  • “I am the Light of the World” (8:12; 9:5)
  • “I am the Gate” (10:7)
  • “I am the Good Shepherd” (10:11, 14)
  • “I am the Resurrection and the Life” (11:25)
  • “I am the Way, the Truth, the Life” (14:6)
  • “I am the True Vine” (15:1)

The seven miracles (before His death & resurrection):

  • Changing water to wine (2:1-11)
  • Healing the official’s son (4:43-54)
  • Healing the disabled man by the Bethesda pool (5:1-15)
  • Feeding the 5,000 (6:1-14)
  • Walking on water (6:16-21)
  • Healing the man born blind (9:1-12)
  • Raising Lazarus from the dead (11:1-14)

But the theme of identity is not confined to the identity of Jesus. John is careful to choose stories that point to the identity of the religious leaders, the identity of those whom Jesus spoke to, the identity of those whom Jesus healed, and the identity of those who followed Jesus.

In today’s chapter, what struck me was how Peter’s denials stood out in stark contrast to Jesus’ claims. I couldn’t help but reflect on the fact that Peter was not only the appointed leader of The Twelve, but his given name was Simon and Jesus gave Him a new name and a new identity: No longer the fisherman from Capernaum, Jesus gave Simon the identity of Peter, “the rock” on which I will build my church.”

Yet as Jesus, the “I Am,” is arrested and tried, the “rock” crumbles with three contrasting claims: “I am…not.”

I find something beautiful in the human fragility of Peter’s trinity of “I am not“s. As a follower of Jesus, it echoes the fragility of my own faith, the cracks in my own witness, and my own major failures that stand in stark contrast to the proclamation “I am a follower of Jesus.”

As Jesus fulfills His mission to suffer for the sins of the world, I find “the Rock” there as my representative. How apt that the Divinely appointed human “leader” of Jesus’ followers becomes the designated representative of human weakness.

In the quiet this morning, I find myself sitting in humility of my own humanity. A lyric from Bob Dylan’s song Every Grain of Sand comes to mind:

Don’t have the inclination to look back on any mistake,
Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break.

Peter’s story has the same ebb-and-flow as any follower of Jesus. A new direction and a new identity followed by a long life journey that include both miraculous highs and humiliating set-backs. It’s not just Peter’s story. It’s my story. It’s the story of every human being who sincerely answers Jesus’ offer to take up your own cross and follow. As the murderer and persecutor of Jesus’ followers Saul, given the new identity of Paul, follower of Jesus whom he persecuted, said:

“That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Mary and the Dudes

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Mary and the Dudes (CaD Mk 14) – Wayfarer

While he was in Bethany, reclining at the table in the home of Simon the Leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, made of pure nard. She broke the jar and poured the perfume on his head.
Mark 14:3 (NIV)

In today’s chapter, Mark provides a Cliff Notes summary of the fateful night of Jesus’ arrest. As I read the familiar episodes, I was struck at the contrast between Mary’s anointing of Jesus (she is not named in Mark’s biography of Jesus, but John names her, the sister of Lazarus) with expensive perfume, and the actions/behaviors of the Twelve.

Jesus has now been speaking of His arrest, suffering, and death for some time. The response of the Twelve has ranged from silence to confusion to outright disapproval. Mark’s version of events in today’s chapter reveal the behavior of the Twelve to be disagreeable and inattentive to the weight of the moment.

Mary, on the other hand, seems to see what no one else sees. She alone embraces what is about to happen, understands the weight of it, and responds by embracing what Jesus has said would happen. Mary alone acts as a willing participant. Her actions are to bless Jesus before His passion and to metaphorically prepare Him for death. Mary is the only person who seems to see and humbly accept. And, she’s criticized for it.

Jesus’ chosen disciples, meanwhile, can’t believe one of them would betray Him. They can’t stay awake with Him, even after He asks of them this small favor. They can’t stay and stand with Jesus in His moment of need. They can’t even admit they know Him, when confronted with multiple opportunities to do so.

In the quiet this morning, I can’t help but imagine myself in the roles of both Mary and the Twelve. Luke shares that Mary was one to sit at the feet of Jesus and hang on His every word to the point that her sister was indignant (everyone, it would seem, gets indignant with Mary). As much as I would like to think that I would have Mary’s insight, I am reminded that it came at the cost of ignoring urgent things in order to invest in important things. Her devotion to “asking, seeking, and knocking” appear to be the precursor to her spiritual perception.

Have I sacrificed things distracting and urgent to invest myself in Jesus as Mary did?

I have to confess that I identify with the dudes…

Present, but imperceptive.

Great intentions, but greatly inattentive.

Braggadocios during warm-ups, but bungling in the game.

Of course, today’s chapter is not the end of the story. The dudes will keep following. They will learn. They will turn the world upside down.

I’m looking out the window at the lake as I type this. Another day has dawned, and so my story isn’t over either. I take hope in that this morning. Like the dudes, I’ll keep following, too. I’ll keep learning. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even turn a few things upside-down before this wayfaring stranger’s journey is over.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

The Song and the Story

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The Song and the Story (CaD Ps 136) – Wayfarer

to him who led his people through the wilderness;
His love endures forever.
Psalm 136:16 (NIV)

Psalm 136 is one of the most fascinating of all the songs in the anthology of ancient Hebrew song lyrics we all the book of Psalms. The ancient Hebrew songwriter crafted it in such a way that the the meaning and metaphor of the lyrics are as much in the structure as they are in the words. First, there’s the organization of the the theme:

  • Six verses about creation
  • Six verses about the Hebrews deliverance from slavery
  • One verse about the Hebrews being led through the wilderness
  • Six verses about the Hebrews conquest of Canaan
  • Four verses that echo/summarize the previous themes
  • A final call to praise God

There is no other psalm in the anthology of ancient Hebrew song lyrics that utilizes the call and response device as this song does. Twenty-six times the refrain “His love endures forever” is used. That number is important because for the ancient Hebrews, the letters of their alphabet also did double-duty as numerals. Every letter was used as a number. When you add up the numerical values of the letters of the Hebrew name for God: YHWH (Note: the Hebrew alphabet doesn’t have vowels) the total is, you guessed it, 26.

As I thought about the structure of the song, I couldn’t help but think that it parallels every life story, my life story.

I have a creation story. There’s the time in which I was born, the family in which I was raised, the community of my childhood, and the events that set me on my path in life.

Like the Hebrew exodus from slavery, I have climactic events that shape and define my life journey. My decision to follow Christ and subsequent call to proclaim His message, my being cast in a film and meeting the mentor who would play an instrumental part in my life, my early marriage, the births of Taylor and Madison, the divorce that would end my first marriage after seventeen years, and the unexpected arrival of Wendy in my life.

Like the Hebrew wilderness experience, I have my own stretch of life’s road in which I wandered in the wilderness of my own choosing. I chose the path of the prodigal. I ran. I squandered. I was unfaithful to those I loved most. I had my own pig-slop “Aha!” moment. I had to find my way back.

Like the Hebrew conquest, I have my own slate of victories in life. I have accomplishments, awards, and successes.

And, through it all, God’s faithful, enduring love is woven through every major success and every tragic failure. His love is woven through my best moments and my worst. In his letter to the followers of Jesus in Corinth, Paul wrote that at the end of the Great Story that contains all stories, including mine, there are three things that remain: faith, hope, and love. he adds, “The greatest of these is love.”

In the quiet this morning, as I look back at my own story, I am realizing just how much God’s love shows up like the repeated refrain of Psalm 136. I am also reminded that like the 26 love refrains the song writer metaphorically employed to point me to God, Yahweh, I am pointed to a God who is love incarnate, which is the destination and goal of my entire story and life journey through this world. If I’m not growing into love in increasing measure as Jesus defined it, then I am (perhaps even with the best of intentions) headed in the wrong direction.

Chapter-a-Day

The Tension

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The Tension (CaD Ps 119) – Wayfarer

I have strayed like a lost sheep.
    Seek your servant,
    for I have not forgotten your commands.
Psalm 119:176 (NIV)

Like Psalm 117, the chapter from two days ago, Psalm 119 is also widely known as a trivial pursuit question. Coming in a mere two verses, Psalm 117 is the shortest psalm and shortest chapter of the Bible. The 176 verses of Psalm 119 make it the longest psalm and longest chapter in the Bible. If you actually read today’s chapter then you should pat yourself on the back for the accomplishment.

What makes this epic Hebrew lay even more fascinating is that the entire thing is about one central theme: The Great Story. The lyricist used eight different Hebrew words which get translated into English as law, word, commands, precepts, statutes, promises, and decrees. What’s also lost in the translation to English is that each stanza of the song begins with successive letters of the Hebrew alphabet and every line of that stanza begins with the same letter. Psalm 119 is really an ancient work of art.

As I read through the lyrics, I couldn’t help but think about my own journey of reading, studying, meditating on, and memorizing the Great Story. It has been pretty much a daily part of my life for forty years. As I read it this morning, there were so many pieces of the psalm with which I identified with the lyrics. I have no regrets about my devotion to studying the Great Story. It has made me a better person and taught me so much wisdom.

Having said that, I also freely admit that it has not made me a perfect person. And that is one of the things I love about the writer of Psalm 119. Despite his almost fanatical dedication, the songwriter freely confesses on several occasions to his shortcomings, mistakes, and failures. The entire thing ends with the author admitting to being a “lost sheep” and asking the Great Shepherd to “seek your servant.” I couldn’t help but think of Jesus’ words:

By this time a lot of men and women of questionable reputation were hanging around Jesus, listening intently. The Pharisees and religion scholars were not pleased, not at all pleased. They growled, “He takes in sinners and eats meals with them, treating them like old friends.” Their grumbling triggered this story.

“Suppose one of you had a hundred sheep and lost one. Wouldn’t you leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the lost one until you found it? When found, you can be sure you would put it across your shoulders, rejoicing, and when you got home call in your friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Celebrate with me! I’ve found my lost sheep!’ Count on it—there’s more joy in heaven over one sinner’s rescued life than over ninety-nine good people in no need of rescue.

In the quiet this morning, I find myself holding the tension of both my spiritual pursuit and my personal journey. As I sit here and type, I stare over the top of my laptop at a shelf of Bibles lined up together. They are the Bibles that I have read, studied, and marked up over forty years. There’s the puke-green Living Bible my parents gave me when I was a kid. There’s the cheap faux leather version held together by red duct tape, and the paperback that’s covered with personal photos and ephemera. There are resource versions used for specific purposes across the years. And then there’s the beautiful seven-volume copy of the illuminated St. John’s Bible that I’ve collected.

And yet, like the lyricist of Psalm 119, my life has been dotted with foolish choices, acts of gross disobedience, and personal failures. You can accuse me of being a hypocrite, and I won’t deny it. In our current world of cancel culture, there are plenty of past mistakes that the mob of political and moral busybodies could use to summarily dismiss me and write me off. C’est la vie. Making the Great Story a part of my daily life hasn’t made me perfect or pure, but the Great Shepherd has always used it to find this lost sheep and call me back to the fold. My perpetual journey through the Great Story has helped me to slowly, steadily, sometimes haltingly, grow into becoming my true self. I hate to imagine the person I would be today without it.

Chapter-a-Day

A Lesson in the Margins

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A Lesson in the Margins (CaD Ex 38) – Wayfarer

He made for the altar a grating, a network of bronze, under its ledge, extending halfway down.
Exodus 38:4 (NRSVCE)

One of the things I’ve observed along my life journey is what little appreciation I often have for how good I have it, and how different (i.e. comparatively great) life is today compared to the other 99% of human history.

Those who read the text version of my posts may notice that I will often quote different verses from different English translations and paraphrases. I typically will put a little parenthetical acronym behind the reference to let those who care about such things know which translation or paraphrase the quote is from. And, those who care about such things may have noticed that these chapter-a-day posts from my current journey through the Exodus story have come from the NRSVCE which stands for New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition.

What’s strange about that?

Well, I am not, nor have I ever been, Roman Catholic (Not that there’s anything wrong with that! [cue: rimshot]).

I have been reading the chapter each morning from the St. John’s Bible, which happens to be the NRSVCE translation. (Stick with me here, there is a point to all of this.)

The events we are reading about in Exodus happened somewhere roughly around 1500 BC/BCE. It was roughly 1500 AD/CE when Gutenberg and his printing press created the first mass-printed copies of the Exodus text. That means for 3000 years the only copies of Exodus were those which were copied by hand using whatever utensils and materials were available. For roughly a thousand years, followers of Jesus painstakingly copied the texts of the Great Story and added to their handwritten copies beautiful calligraphy, ornate illustrations, and artistic flourishes. These have come to be known as “illuminated manuscripts” which now are typically only found in museums and rare book shops.

After mass printing became available, the art of illuminated manuscripts became obsolete. But in 1998 Queen Elizabeth’s calligrapher, Donald Jackson, in conjunction with fellow scribes and some scholars from St. John’s Abbey and University in Minnesota, began work on a handwritten, illuminated manuscript of the Great Story. It’s the first one of its kind in 500 years. The combination text and artwork have been published in seven gorgeous volumes that Wendy and girls have gifted to me over the years. So each morning of this journey through the Exodus story I have come to the quiet of my office and read the chapter in the beautiful calligraphy of the St. John’s Bible.

This morning, I encountered something unusual. Donald Jackson and his fellow human scribes made an error. They left out the first half of verse four. Ugh. I can imagine when you put in countless hours of painstaking, intense artistic labor you don’t simply just scrap the page and start over. So what do you do?

In the margin of today’s chapter, the scribes drew a beautiful eagle holding a rope in its talons and its beak pointing to the space between lines where the missing text was supposed to go. The rope in the eagle’s talons descends all the way to the bottom of the page where I found the first half of verse four inside a text box around which the eagle’s rope appears to be hand-tied and knotted.

Brilliant, and beautiful.

In yesterday’s post, I noted that sometimes with the seemingly boring and rote information in certain chapters of the Great Story I have to look outside the text in order to find what God’s Spirit has to teach me that day. It’s always there if I’m open to it, and it’s taught me an important spiritual lesson: In God’s creation, everything is connected. Yesterday it was in the meta-communication of repetition that I found meaning. Today, I find my lesson in the human error of the handwritten text.

The scribes of the St. John’s Bible made a mistake. I wonder how far along they were on the page before they discovered it, or had it been completed before an editor discovered the bad news? I can only imagine the guttural groan of the calligraphers, the agonizing team meeting that may have taken place, and the depths of artistic shame and despair that may have accompanied the moments the oversight came to light.

This life journey is filled with human mistakes. Buy me a pint and I will give you an entire list of mistakes I’ve made along the way (it might cost you two pints, there are a lot of them). Mistakes that, when they came to light, created all sorts of groans, agonizing, shame, and despair for me. But, I’ve discovered through those stretches of life’s road that God is not a God of condemnation and shame. That’s just human experience projected on the divine or the enemy twisting the truth and passing it off to those who have no desire to ask, seek, or knock. God does what the scribes of the St. John’s Bible did. He takes my failures and shame and does something artistic with it. He molds the old mistakes into a new creation. He redeems it.

In the quiet this morning, this ancient lyric from Psalm 30 (MSG) rose from my memory bank. It’s written by King David (who had a boat-load of his own failures and shame):

I give you all the credit, God—
    you got me out of that mess,
    you didn’t let my foes gloat.
God, my God, I yelled for help
    and you put me together.
God, you pulled me out of the grave,
    gave me another chance at life
    when I was down-and-out.
You did it: you changed wild lament
    into whirling dance;
You ripped off my black mourning band
    and decked me with wildflowers.
I’m about to burst with song;
    I can’t keep quiet about you.
God, my God,
    I can’t thank you enough.

If you find yourself staring at the consequences of your own mistakes and failures, trust that God wants to make something beautiful out of it. As God put it to the Hebrews after delivering them out of Egypt: “I carried you on eagles’ wings, and brought you to myself.“

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

The Look

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The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: “Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times.” And he went outside and wept bitterly.
Luke 22:61-62 (NIV)

As a child, I had a healthy conscience. If I had done something wrong, it weighed on my heart like the proverbial millstone Jesus referenced as just punishment for causing a little one to stumble. Looking back, it’s fascinating for me to think about the things that sent me into attacks of shame and the the things I could convince myself weren’t “that bad.”

It starts at such an early age, doesn’t it? The mental gymnastics of moral justice: What’s bad? What’s very bad? What’s not a big deal (if you can get away with it)? What sins weigh heavier on the scales of justice within the family system, the school system, the neighborhood system, and the peer group system?

It was fascinating for me to become a father and observe just how opposite two children with the same genes can be within the same family system. One daughter’s conscience was impregnable. She always pled “not guilty” no matter how red-handed she might have been caught. She remained stoically resolute, stuck with her plea, and quickly appealed any parental verdict as prosecutorial overreach and abuse of power. At times it was comical, at other times it was maddening.

With the other daughter, all it took was a look. A look of condemnation, or worse yet – a look of disappointment. Her little spirit wilted. Tears flowed. If nature helps to determine temperament, then I’m pretty certain she got that from me. Oh, that parenting could always be as easy as a look.

The look. That’s what struck me in today’s chapter. I find it fascinating that Luke included this little detail. Peter utters his third denial and immediately the rooster crows. With that audio cue, Jesus turns and looks directly at Peter. The denial, the rooster, the look. The weight of his denial, his sin, and the hollow emptiness of his emphatic assurance to be imprisoned and die with Jesus all come crashing down on Peter in a moment. He runs. He weeps bitterly.

As a child with a healthy conscience, it’s easy for me to feel that weight. I identify with Peter.

“Me, too, dude,” my spirit whispers to the weeping, shamed, unworthy Simon. I totally identify with Peter at that moment; The seemingly ill-chosen ”Rock” and ”Keeper of the Keys.” By default, I ‘m ready to sit down with Peter and have a shame-induced pity party.

But, there’s something else I noticed in today’s chapter: Jesus knew. Jesus not only saw Peter’s impending denial and failure to follow-through on his assurances, but He also saw past the failure to the sorrow, repentance, and restoration. Jesus’ perceived that Peter’s fall would ultimately help mold him into a more solid, humble, and capable leader. Much in the same way that, as a father, I knew that one daughter’s tender spirit was going to develop into a heart of compassion that God would use in one way, and that God would use my other daughter’s strength of will and resolution for different but just as meaningful purposes.

In the quiet this morning I find the realization that I’m quick to sit and wallow with Peter in the failure and shame. This, however, means that I am slow to accept God’s perfect knowledge of me, my shortcomings, my failures, my heart of repentance, my restoration, and all that He is molding me to be for His Kingdom purposes. Embracing the former without embracing the latter is to accept an incomplete reality: Jesus remains very disappointed in me and I remain shamed and self-condemned. Within days, the resurrected Christ would stand on a beach graciously prompting from Peter three “I love you’s” to replace the three ”I don’t know Him’s.” Peter remains on course for the journey of love, faith, leadership, transformation and sacrifice to which he’d been called from the beginning.

It’s so easy for me to see “the look” of Jesus as one of a disappointment. But just as I could “look” at my daughters and see beyond their momentary infractions to the amazing individuals they would grow to be, “the look” of Jesus always sees beyond my failure to the fullness of all I am and will be in Him.