“As for you, go your way till the end. You will rest, and then at the end of the days you will rise to receive your allotted inheritance.” Daniel 12:13 (NIV)
The spiritual journey is a faith journey. The author of Hebrews famously defined faith as “assurance of what we hope for, evidence of that which we do not see.” Jesus reminded Nicodemus that the word for spirit in Hebrew is the same word as wind:
“The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.” John 3:8 (NIV)
I’ve always loved that metaphor of wind as spirit. I can’t see the wind, I can only see the evidence of its presence and effect. Jesus provided a parallel metaphor regarding the effect of the Spirit in a person’s life being evidenced by the “fruit” of that person’s life. The evidence of the invisible Holy Spirit’s blowing in and through a person’s life is an increasing amount of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, goodness, faithfulness, and self-control.
I got to thinking about this as I read the final chapter of Daniel. It ends rather abruptly with the end of his prophetic vision regarding the end of days. Daniel himself is confused and perplexed. “I don’t understand,” he pleads to the angel who showed him the vision.
His humble acknowledgment of his ignorance resonated deeply within me. Like most people, I like facts, evidence, and certainty. The spiritual journey, however, is rife with mystery. There are a lot of moments along the way that I, like Daniel, shrug my shoulders and plead, “I don’t get it.”
What fascinated me in the quiet this morning was the angel’s twice-repeated response: “Go your way, Daniel.” Keep pressing on in the journey. Have faith. Stick to the Spirit’s path. Trust the evidence you feel like a soft breeze in your spirit even though you don’t see it. Be assured that the mystery is not something you can’t understand but that which you will endlessly understand. Press on to the journey’s end when you will fully know that which you always merely believed
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
[King Josiah] stood by the pillar and renewed the covenant in the presence of the Lord—to follow the Lord and keep his commands, statutes and decrees with all his heart and all his soul, thus confirming the words of the covenant written in this book. Then all the people pledged themselves to the covenant. 2 Kings 23:3 (NIV)
One of the common themes of all great stories is when the hero loses his or her way. We see it in Luke Skywalker in Star Wars Episode VIII as he has chosen self-exile. Ron Weasley similarly chooses out in the Deathly Hallows. Edmund loses his way and follows the White Witch in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. In The Hobbit, it is Bilbo who loses his way in the Misty Mountains where he happens to find a plain-looking golden ring in the darkness. Despite his insistence that he would never fall away, Peter denies that he knows Jesus three times.
Along my spiritual journey, I have come to embrace that losing one’s way is a common theme for a lot of us. As I look back on my own life journey, I can humbly point back to a period of time I call “the dark years,” in which I lost my way and made many regrettable choices.
In the Great Story told between Genesis and Revelation the theme of losing one’s way is recurring. From the Hebrew tribes “wandering in the wilderness” for 40 years to the exile of Israel and Judah in Assyria and Babylon to Jesus’ parable of the Prodigal Son, the tale of losing one’s way is a familiar one.
In today’s chapter, King Josiah reads the recently discovered Books of Moses to his people. We have no idea how long it had been since the story of Moses delivering the Hebrews from slavery in Egypt and God establishing a covenant with them had been read. It says in today’s chapter that the annual Passover Feast prescribed by God had not been celebrated “neither in the days of the judges who led Israel nor in the days of the kings of Israel and the kings of Judah.” That’s somewhere in the neighborhood of 800 years.
Today’s chapter is essentially about coming home, the Prodigal’s return, and the hero finding his or her way back to the path. Luke shows up to deliver the rebel forces in stunning form. Ron returns just in time to save Harry. Edmund is redeemed and restored by Aslan. Bilbo finds his way back to Thorin and Company with the ring that will help him facilitate the overthrow of Smaug. Jesus restores Peter on the shore of Galilee with three affirmations of his calling. Josiah leads the nation in renewing their covenant with the God who delivered and established them.
In the quiet this morning, I’m reminded that losing one’s way is a very common story. Jesus told stories about lost coins and lost sheep as well as a lost child. The stories are ultimately not about being lost, but about being found. The Shepherd risks the entire flock to search for the lost sheep until it’s found. The Prodigal’s father waits patiently and expectantly on the porch to catch sight of his child’s return. The found book helps Josiah and God’s people to find their way back to God.
I once was lost, but now I’m found.
For the spiritual pilgrim, there’s both encouragement and hope in the revelation that God expectantly desires that I find my way back to Him.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
Samson said to them, “Since you’ve acted like this, I swear that I won’t stop until I get my revenge on you.” Judges 15:7 (NIV)
Along my life journey, I have known certain individuals who became antithetical life examples for me. In other words, they were individuals whom I regarded as persons I never wanted to be like. It might have been their actions, their attitudes, or the way they treated others. Looking back, I’m grateful for them. I believe there have been waypoints on life’s journey where I was more motivated by who I didn’t want to be as much as I was who I did want to be. God has used both motivations in my story.
This explains the love-hate relationship I’ve always had with the person of Samson. The boy-child in me loves the stories of legendary heroes and superheroes and their save-the-day heroics. Samson’s legendary birth, size, and strength, along with his legendary feats, certainly fit into that category.
The problem is that Samson is a jerk. He’s selfish, impetuous, shallow, reactive, vengeful, and driven by his base appetites. He also makes continuously foolish choices.
It took me a long time to realize that this was the very point God is trying to make in Samson’s story.
Samson’s story is the story of the Hebrew people themselves.
Samson is divinely birthed and set apart from the beginning, just as the Hebrews were going all the way back to God’s promise to Abraham.
Samson was called by God to live differently than everyone else by taking a life-long Nazarite vow never to drink and never to cut his hair, just as the Hebrews were called by God to live differently than all the other people groups around them by keeping His law and commandments.
Samson lustfully desired and chased after Philistine women rather than women from his own tribes, just as the Hebrews lustfully chased after other gods rather than remaining faithful to God.
Samson’s impetuousness and foolish choices perpetually lead to violent and chaotic ends, just as the Hebrews’ foolish alliances and relationships with other nations lead to similar ends.
Samson’s story is the story of the Hebrew people. Samson is an antithetical example. He was special from the beginning. He is God’s man. He is divinely gifted. He has a calling and a purpose. Yet, all he does is act foolishly, get himself into trouble, and live selfishly.
And God continues to bless Samson, give him strength, deliver him, and miraculously provide for him.
“Remind you of anyone?” God is asking His people through the person of Samson.
He’s also asking me the same question as I read the story.
Looking back on my own life, my own story, how many times has God blessed me in ways I never deserved? How many times have I acted selfishly, impetuously, and foolishly? How many times have I allowed my own tragic flaws to get me into trouble even though I know I’m making the same mistake I’ve made before and I know where it leads? How many times have I been unfaithful to what God asks of me, only to have God remain steadfastly faithful to me?
I don’t want to be a Samson!
“Good,” God’s spirit whispers. “I don’t want that either. Remember that today as you live, speak, think, and make decisions. Don’t be a Samson.”
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
“Now I am about to go the way of all the earth. You know with all your heart and soul that not one of all the good promises the Lord your God gave you has failed. Every promise has been fulfilled; not one has failed.” Joshua 23:14 (NIV)
When I was a young man, I was part of an organization that had enjoyed strong leadership for a number of years. In fact, it was one of the strong leaders who invited me to participate. It was obvious that over time the organization had grown, enjoyed repeated success, and became increasingly influential. I learned a tremendous amount in my first few years. Some of the lessons have helped me throughout my entire life.
Then the senior leadership left the organization.
It was one of the first experiences in my journey (there have been others) in which a change in leadership completely changed the system for the worse. In this case, the new leadership was tragically unprepared for the role they’d been given. Over the course of a few years, I watched the entire system implode.
In today’s chapter, we’re reaching the end of Joshua’s life. Since Moses showed up to lead the Hebrews out of slavery in Egypt, the tribes have benefitted from having a strong leader in charge. Moses led them out of Egypt to the Promised Land then Joshua led them to conquer the land and settle in it. Having finished the task, Joshua knows that his earthly journey is nearing its end. He calls the nation together to deliver a final message to them.
We’re on the verge of a massive change in leadership.
Joshua structures his message to the people as nations in that day structured treaties with one another. In presenting this treaty, Joshua assumes the role of God’s representative who is making a treaty with the nation. The people are reminded of all that God has done for them, reminded of God’s command to have no other gods, and warned that failure to keep those commands will have disastrous consequences. Just as God has kept his promises, Joshua explains, He will also make good on His warnings should they fail to keep their end of the covenant.
There is a major issue looming in the background as we approach the end of the Joshua administration. There’s no succession plan.
The fledgling Hebrew nation is made up of millions of people, scattered into twelve tribes, each made up of numerous family clans. Think of it as the 48 contiguous states in America with no central federal government. What’s going to keep them together? What happens to the small tribes when there are no checks and balances on the power and influence of the larger tribes? How do you keep tribal relationships from breaking down into feuds and civil wars?
Humanity is still in the toddler stage of development and relationship with God. Today’s chapter reads like a parent laying down the law with a three-year-old: “Do what I tell you because I know what’s good for you and have your best interests at heart. If you don’t do what I tell you, there will be consequences you’re not going to like.” Having parented a couple of three-year-olds, I can tell you confidently that eventually there will be willfulness, disobedience, attitude, stubbornness, and tantrums. There are always tantrums.
In the quiet this morning, I find myself recalling some of the best leaders I’ve worked with along my life journey and the things I learned from them. I’m whispering prayers of gratitude for all that I’ve learned through both relationship and example. As I have trekked along this life journey, I have learned that for the good of the group I’m leading, it’s important to try and have a succession plan, whenever I knew I would be leaving a leadership position. I’ve experienced both success and failure in that department.
And, I’m thinking about the Hebrew tribes, about to lose their central leadership with no succession plan. The next stage in their national development is not going to be pretty.
There will be tantrums.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
Judah became God’s sanctuary, Israel his dominion. Psalm 114:2 (NIV)
Along my journey, I have experienced discord and division among any number of groups to which I belonged. This includes family, churches, community organizations, and most recently, a nation.
When division happens, no matter the size or scope of that division, it creates so much relational mess in its wake. Suddenly, individuals who love one another find themselves on opposite sides of a topic or circumstance. Mental lines get drawn. Emotional trenches are dug. A relational no man’s land grows between, and neither party feels very much like being the one to crawl out of the trench and initiating the crossing of no man’s land.
It’s hard.
Today’s chapter, Psalm 114, is the second in a series of Ancient Hebrew songs known as the Hallel, which is sung each year at the Passover feast which celebrates God’s deliverance of the Hebrews from slavery in Egypt. Like yesterday’s psalm, it is sung before the Passover meal. In eight simple verses, the song overviews the major events of their exodus out of Egypt, through the wilderness, and into the promised land. As yesterday’s chapter was metaphorically the “call to praise” of the Passover feast, today’s chapter is, metaphorically, a prologue that overviews the journey participants will take through the feast.
What struck me the most as I read this morning was the second verse:
Judah became God’s sanctuary, Israel his dominion.
Casual readers are likely to miss the weight of this verse for the ancient Hebrews who sang it back in the day. Scholars say that the song was penned during a period in Hebrew history known as “the divided monarchy.” The twelve tribes of Israel were divided into two nations. Two tribes, led by Judah, became the southern nation of Judah with Jerusalem as its’ capital. The other ten tribes joined into the northern nation of Israel. There was perpetual discord, division, and civil war between the two.
As with any event of human discord and division, there was the drawing of mental lines, digging of emotional trenches, and the development of relational no-mans-lands.
The Passover feast, to which all good Hebrews were expected to attend and participate in was held in Jerusalem at Solomon’s temple in the capital city of Judah. This meant that the faithful who lived in the northern nation of Israel had to cross no-mans-land. I can only imagine the relational tension that existed in the city on that week each year. A festival that was meant to unite the people in remembrance of the unifying event of their national identity became a political and religious powder keg. I can’t help but feel an acute identification with that reality in light of my own nation’s recent events.
In the quiet this morning I find myself thinking back to those divisions which I have experienced and which dot the timeline of my life as painful waypoints on my journey. Given time, I’m glad to say that I’ve experienced relational healing and reconciliation in certain relationships. In others, the relational division led to separate paths that I don’t expect to converge on this side of eternity. In yet others, I have made attempts to cross the emotional no-mans-land only to be greeted with an emotional fence of barbed wire. I must also confess that there are yet other circumstances in which I would say that I desire there to be reconciliation, but that desire has not led to my willingness to initiate a crossing of no-mans-land. Those are the ones that lay heavy on my spirit this morning.
I find it ironic that my chapter-a-day journey happens upon the Passover Hallel on this week when followers of Jesus begin the annual spiritual pilgrimage with Jesus to Jerusalem, to crucifixion, and to resurrection. The final, climactic events of Jesus’ earthly life happened during the week of Passover. Followers of Jesus see the two events as spiritually akin. Moses led the Hebrews out of slavery in Egypt to the promised land. Jesus led any who will follow out of bondage to sin, through the wilderness of this earthly journey, to an eternal promised land.
It’s also ironic that today happens to be known as Ash Wednesday, which it the opening event of the season follower call Lent. It’s the day we are called to Spirit mode to embark on a spiritual journey of remembrance with Jesus to the cross. Just like yesterday’s chapter and today’s chapter called the Hebrews to the spiritual journey of remembrance with Moses to the promised land. (By the way, I didn’t plan this!)
I find myself answering the call to that annual journey this morning in the quiet of my office. I find myself thinking about those relationships on the other side of no-mans-land. Holy Spirit whispers the words of Jesus to my spirit:
“This is how I want you to conduct yourself in these matters. If you enter your place of worship and, about to make an offering, you suddenly remember a grudge a friend has against you, abandon your offering, leave immediately, go to this friend and make things right. Then and only then, come back and work things out with God.”
The Lord has sworn and will not change his mind: “You are a priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek.” Psalm 110:4 (NIV)
I confess. I am a Tolkien nerd. I have been most of my life. Before the advent of cell phones I would typically read The Lord of the Rings once a year. Now, I have it on audiobook and will often listen to it when I can’t sleep. Once I got a text from my daughter asking me, “Do you know the name of Theoden’s horse?”
I immediately replied. “Of course. Snowmane.”
She then texted. “Thanks. Playing pub trivia and I knew you’d know.”
But I couldn’t let it go at that. I then added:
“Gandalf’s horse is Shadowfax. Sam’s pony is Bill. Glorfindel’s horse is Asfaloth. Aragorn’s horse is Hasufel. Legolas’ horse is Arod.”
Okay. I was showing off and geeking out. Maybe I have a problem.
Geeking out came to mind as I read today’s chapter, Psalm 110, because it contains a geeky reference in the Great Story that I find even life-long followers of Jesus to be largely unaware. It is the mysterious character of Melchizedek.
Melchizedek makes his appearance towards the very beginning of the Great Story when God calls Abraham:
Then Melchizedek king of Salem brought out bread and wine. He was priest of God Most High, and he blessed Abram, saying,
“Blessed be Abram by God Most High, Creator of heaven and earth. And praise be to God Most High, who delivered your enemies into your hand.”
Then Abram gave him a tenth of everything.
Genesis 14:17-20 (NIV)
That’s it. That’s the only reference to him and that’s all we know about him. And this is where the mystery begins. In the Great Story Abram is the first of the Hebrew “patriarchs.” At this point in the story, there are no Ten Commandments, no system of worship (which came through Moses centuries later), no record of any kind of formal “priesthood.” So, who is Melchizedek? Where did he come from? How did he become “priest of God Most High” and what exactly did that mean?
We. Don’t. Know.
So, why is he important?
In the Hebrew system of worship that God prescribed through Moses, the “priesthood” was relegated to Aaron and his descendants. If you weren’t in the line of Aaron then you couldn’t be a priest. When the law and sacrificial system was established through Moses the Hebrews had no “king.” It would be centuries before they established a monarchy. When they did, the line of King David was established as the royal line through which the Messiah would come. So, if the Messiah was to be both King of Kings (from the royal line of David) and eternal High Priest (and only descendants of Aaron could be priests) how is that possible?
David wrote the coronation song, Psalm 110, that prophetically provided the answer. Some scholars say that Psalm 110 is the most directly prophetic of all the psalms, but that isn’t easily understood by the casual reader. David references the mysterious priesthood before Moses and before Aaron. He connects the Messiah with the shadowy figure of Melchizedek, “priest of God Most High,” who “brought out bread and wine“ (sound familiar?). The early followers of Jesus saw it and the author of the New Testament book of Hebrews (also a mystery) fleshed it out. The priesthood and sacrificial system of Aaron was a temporary spiritual band-aid and living metaphor of what was to come. The ultimate, once-for-all sacrifice of Jesus was sourced in an eternal priesthood that was older, deeper, and (from a human perspective) infinitely mysterious.
The author of Hebrews writes:
“Melchizedek was king of Salem and priest of the Highest God. He met Abraham, who was returning from “the royal massacre,” and gave him his blessing. Abraham in turn gave him a tenth of the spoils. “Melchizedek” means “King of Righteousness.” “Salem” means “Peace.” So, he is also “King of Peace.” Melchizedek towers out of the past—without record of family ties, no account of beginning or end. In this way he is like the Son of God, one huge priestly presence dominating the landscape always.” Hebrews 7:1-3 (MSG)
In the quiet this morning I feel like I’m geeking out on the Great Story like I geek out on The Lord of the Rings so forgive me if this post leaves you rolling your eyes and/or scratching your head.
A faith journey isn’t about reason or it wouldn’t be faith. In the mystery of Melchizedek, I’m reminded that faith requires of me the humility to accept that there are truths that lie in mystery. They are deeper, older, and unfathomable this side of eternity. Once again, I am grateful to Richard Rohr for introducing me to the concept that mystery isn’t something that we can’t understand but something we endlessly understand. The further I get in my spiritual journey, the more I have come to embrace and enjoy the mystery.
Throughout the history of the Jesus Movement and Christendom, there have been various geographic locations around the world that have come to be known as “thin places.” The concept is a very simple metaphor. It is a specific location where the divide between temporal and eternal, heaven and earth, matter and Spirit, is thin. The power of the Spirit seems to flow more palpably. “Thin places” might be locations where spiritual revivals have occurred, miracles have occurred, or where people experience God’s presence in extraordinary ways.
One of the things I’ve noticed in moving from Book I of the Psalms (Psalms 1-41) to Book II (Psalms 42-72). The songs in Book 1 are mostly songs of David expressing his personal emotions and faith. In the first six songs of Book II we’ve had a variety of songs that were written with specific liturgical purposes. There’s been a diplomatic wedding of royalty to another nation’s princess, a song celebrating a king’s enthronement, and a community plea/prayer after suffering military defeat.
Today’s chapter, Psalm 48, is a song that celebrates Jerusalem as the center of Hebrew worship. It celebrates Jerusalem as an ancient thin place where people find joy, where God has done great things, where the things of God are pondered, and spiritual guidance is found.
It was very common in ancient Mesopotamian cultures for major cities to have patron deities and temples to those deities. The Hebrews would have experienced this while in slavery in Egypt. They would have been familiar with the concept, and way back during the Hebrews flight from Egypt God made clear that a city would be established as the place where Yahweh would dwell and be worshipped (Deut 12:5). How fascinating that over 3000 years later pilgrims from all over the world continue to flock to Jerusalem and pray at the Western Wall of the temple ruins. It is still considered by many to be a thin place.
In the quiet this morning, Psalm 48 has me thinking about thin places. I have been to Jerusalem, I have walked its streets, and I have prayed at the Western Wall. Personally, I didn’t find Jerusalem to be a thin place but a dark place, despite knowing that the Great Story makes clear it still has a role to play in history’s climactic events.
I have, however, observed that our place at the lake is what I’ve experienced as a thin place. It is a place people have found peace. It is a place where both myself and others have found healing of both body and soul. It has been a place of retreat, of soul-searching, of life-changing conversation, of joy, of love, and of Life.
In my spiritual journey, I’ve come to believe it vital to identify and regularly visit a thin place. I’m reminded that Jesus regularly slipped away alone or with his closest followers to the top of a mountain along the shores of Galilee to pray. Interestingly enough, when I visited that mountain-top location in Israel, I found it to be the thinnest place I personally experienced in my tour of many, many sites in the Holy Land.
This world bombards me ceaselessly with data, information, opinions, advertisements, and pleas for my time, energy, and human resources. My spirit needs a thin place to recharge, even if it’s a thin place just to me.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
But the people thirsted there for water; and the people complained against Moses and said, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” Exodus 17:3 (NRSVCE)
It’s been so much fun over the past six months to watch our grandson, Milo, as he’s made so many developmental leaps. He’s carrying on actual conversations. He’s making discoveries and connections. His vocabulary is growing exponentially. He’s learning all about dinosaurs (and will be happy to share). He’ll even demonstrate a T-Rex roar if you ask.
Of course, with this stage of development also comes the natural human penchant for whining. The repeated wailing at loud decibel levels. Emotions run amok and bereft of any governor of logic or reason. The passionate translation of momentary light affliction into problems of heinous and lethal proportions.
One of my observations along life’s journey is that humans have a penchant for whining at every stage of life, it just looks different in adults than it does in childhood. It transforms from emotional tantrums in children to adults wallowing in grumbling, complaining, and lament. Please don’t read what I’m not writing. I’m not making an editorial comment about current events.
In today’s chapter, the Hebrew nation (remember 1-2 million people and livestock) is camping in the wilderness. There is a lack of readily available water. So they grumble and complain to Moses to the point that Moses is afraid they’re going to stone him to death. What I noticed in this was the pattern that has been emerging:
They grumbled when Moses’ first meeting with Pharaoh resulted in more work and persecution. God miraculously sent the plagues and delivered them from slavery.
They grumbled when they were caught between the Egyptian army and the Red Sea. God miraculously parted the Red Sea, swallowed up their oppressors, and delivered them from their enemies.
They grumbled when they feared there wasn’t enough food for everyone as they entered the wilderness. God miraculously sent quail and manna to provide daily sustenance and delivered them from hunger.
Today they grumble because there isn’t enough water…
I see the pattern.
One of the most difficult spiritual lessons I’ve learned along my journey is that spiritual maturity requires that we respond to difficult circumstances with gratitude, praise, and trust:
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and don’t lean on your own understanding. (Proverbs 3:5)
In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! (John 16:33)
Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings… (Rom 5:3)
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds… (James 1:2)
In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials… (1 Peter 1:6)
…give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. (1 Thess 5:18)
Earlier in this chapter-a-day journey through Exodus, I was reminded that this entire Exodus epic was about God wanting the Hebrew people to know Him. He heard their cries. He was acting to deliver them. He wanted a relationship with them.
In my own spiritual journey, I’ve learned that my knowledge of God doesn’t increase when things are easy, when everything is going my way, and when I am sitting pretty in life. Paul said in his letter to Jesus’ followers in Rome that in the end there are three things that remain: faith, hope, and love.
Faith is only developed when trusting and believing is a necessity because circumstances are uncertain. Like when you’re stuck between a sea and your enemies.
Hope is only developed when the outcome is uncertain. Like when there’s not enough water.
Love is developed when there is an exchange between two parties in which protection, trust, hope, and perseverance through difficulty are experienced.
The evidence of the Hebrews’ repeated whining suggests that there is little spiritual or relational development happening on their end. Get ready. This pattern is going to continue.
In the quiet this morning, I’m left contemplating my own spiritual journey and spiritual development. Do I grumble perpetually, or have I learned to trust? Do I whine about my circumstances, or have I learned to have faith that God has something for me to learn in them? Am I mired in gloom and pessimism thinking that God is going to pull the rug out from underneath me, or am I hope-full that God is leading me to good places on this journey and there is a Promised Land ahead?
I’d like to say that I’m perfectly exemplifying the latter of these, but I confess I’m not. I have made progress, though, if I think back to where I was ten, twenty, or thirty years ago. That’s called development. Hopefully, I have grown out of the spiritual child stage and am gaining some maturity. I’m reminded this morning that this is a journey. A journey is about progress, not perfection.
And so, I’m lacing them up at the beginning of this another day. Time to press on into faith, hope, and love.
May the God of Love bless you where ever you find yourself on life’s road today.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
…on all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments: I am the Lord. Exodus 12:12 (NRSVCE)
We are living through strange times.
Yesterday Wendy and I attended our local gathering of Jesus’ followers which was meeting corporately for the first time in months. With everything set up and following social distancing rules by local and state authorities, it just felt weird and disconcerting. This physical and relational reality only intensified the spiritual and emotional turmoil Wendy and I found ourselves in as we grapple with the inexcusable murder of George Floyd and the intensity of reactions it sparked across our nation and the world.
As worship began I fell to my knees as the emotional dam burst within me. Wendy and I wept together. Like almost everyone else with whom we discuss the situation, we are sad and angry. We agonize over what we can and must do in the wake of this crime and the evil, complex, vast, and multi-dimensional injustice of racism that continues to perpetuate in our nation, as it has for hundreds of years.
As I read today’s chapter, I felt the synchronicity that often comes in the morning when I open to the chapter that has fallen onto my schedule that day. It felt like no mistake that I was reading of the Hebrews’ climactic escape from their slavery in Egypt. What struck me this morning, and which I never internalized in the countless times I’ve read and studied it, is that the event is more than just the freedom of the Hebrews out of the chains of their slavery. Their escape took place amidst the wailing cries of their oppressors. God arranged for the oppressors to experience the pain, suffering, and loss that they and their system had visited on others for hundreds of years.
I also cannot help but mull over the fact that this same Hebrew/Arab conflict has lasted for millennia. The hatred and acts of aggression, oppression, and violence have gone back and forth and lasted for so long that I personally consider it impossible to completely plumb the depths. Guilt and innocence, oppression and suffering are found on both sides throughout history. From ancient tribal disputes to the settlement disputes on the West Bank today. How strange to read today’s chapter and to realize that the events lie at the root of yet another vast, complex, multi-dimensional human conflict that continues to perpetuate to this day.
So where does that leave us?
Wendy arranged for us to have a Zoom meeting with our children yesterday afternoon. From their homes in South Carolina and Scotland, we all talked and shared about our thoughts, feelings, experiences, struggles, and desire to do something. Every one of us shared our thoughts and intentions around what we can do.
As we remain and abide in the circle of love, the divine dance of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, we will: Repent and confess Bear good fruit Listen, hear, and pray with love Bless not curse Love sacrificially Become a bridge builder Seek new friends.
Will it make a difference? It’s not a miraculous answer to the evil, complex, vast, and multi-dimensional injustice that continues to perpetuate in our nation. But, perhaps if I who profess to be a follower of Jesus actually and intentionally do these things it will make a change in me and those around me.
I’m reminded this morning that Harriett Tubman led approximately 70 slaves to freedom on some 13 missions. Seventy out of some 6 million slaves. She courageously and intentionally did what she could.
There’s no reason I can’t expect the same from myself.
Spiritual Hearing and Sight Impairment (CaD Ex 6) –
Wayfarer
Moses told this to the Israelites; but they would not listen to Moses, because of their broken spirit and their cruel slavery. Exodus 6:9 (NRSVCE)
When Jesus was teaching, He would repetitiously tag his message by saying, “Those who have ears to hear, let them hear.” This phrase has always resonated with me. Maybe more so because in the experience of delivering a message I have always experienced that some people really “hear” the message and others do not. Jesus was constantly acknowledging this truth. In explaining to His followers the reason He taught with parables He went so far as to embrace that this is part of a larger spiritual mystery revealed by the prophet, Isaiah:
That’s why I tell stories: to create readiness, to nudge the people toward receptive insight. In their present state they can stare till doomsday and not see it, listen till they’re blue in the face and not get it. I don’t want Isaiah’s forecast repeated all over again: “Your ears are open but you don’t hear a thing. Your eyes are awake but you don’t see a thing. The people are blockheads! They stick their fingers in their ears so they won’t have to listen; They screw their eyes shut so they won’t have to look, so they won’t have to deal with me face-to-face and let me heal them. “But you have God-blessed eyes—eyes that see! And God-blessed ears—ears that hear!” Matthew 13 :13-16 (MSG)
Not everyone wants to see it or hear it in this moment.
Not everyone is ready to see it or hear it in this moment.
In yesterday’s chapter, Moses’ first attempt at getting Pharaoh to let the Hebrew people go was a dismal failure. Not only did Pharaoh reject the appeal, but he made life even worse for the Hebrews whom Moses is trying to lead. In today’s chapter, Moses is prompted by God to have another go at it but his people would not listen “because of their broken spirit and their cruel slavery.”
In the quiet this morning, I find myself meditating on those whom I observe to be suffering from spiritual hearing and sight impairment. In my experience, the institutional church and its regulatory minions have been too quick to diagnose such a person with a terminal spiritual condition. Judgment and condemnation quickly follow before shaking the dust off and returning to the cloister. I confess that, in my own spiritual journey, I have been guilty of this very attitude.
Mea culpa.
As I began to walk life’s journey along-side those who are struggling to spiritually see and hear, I found them to be a lot like the Hebrews in today’s chapter. There is something broken spiritually. Often it is something old and painful that is deep-seated. Typically it is of no fault of their own. It is the scars of circumstance. I have also observed that there is almost always a true desire to spiritually hear and see, but there is a process. Like the blind man whom Jesus healed, the first time Jesus rubbed the man’s eyes everything was blurry. It took another repetition before the man gained his full sight.
It’s going to take repetition for Moses’ people, too. They are broken. They’re struggling under the weight of their chains and the scars of their overseers. It’s going to take time, repetition, and perseverance before they can hear what God is saying and see what God is doing through Moses.
Along the way, I’ve learned that if someone is spiritually deaf and blind, it simply means I need to keep speaking in love, listening patiently, acting kindly, responding gently, serving faithfully, and controlling my reactions. I’m reminded that on the night before His crucifixion, Jesus was still complaining that His closest followers weren’t hearing Him or seeing what He was doing.
Wayfarer 