Tag Archives: Meaning

Trust the Story, Tell the Story

Then you shall declare before the Lord your God: “My father was a wandering Aramean, and he went down into Egypt…
Deuteronomy 26:5a (NIV)

For many years I presented a quarterly one-hour orientation training for one of our clients. It gave new hires a basic understanding of the research, quality assessment, and coaching our team provided. There were two front-line team managers who faithfully attended the orientation. The content of the orientation training never changed, yet the two managers were there every – single – time.

Their regular attendance didn’t bother me, but it did make me curious. Eventually, I asked why they were always there. They laughed.

“We want to hear your stories,” they replied. “The ‘gas station story,’ the ‘swing set story,’ all of them. We just love hearing your stories.”

There is a common obstacle I have observed in young and fledgling preachers I’ve had the privilege of mentoring. They fear that they are going to look and sound ignorant so they pack their message full of iron-clad knowledge of the text, chapter-and-verse. I have reviewed outlines for a thirty-minute message that had enough content for an all-day seminary workshop. That’s a problem, because my 45 years of preaching experience has taught me one important truth:

What people want is a good story.

Today’s chapter wraps up a major section of Moses’ final message to his people. He’s reminded them of God’s commands and requirements. Now, he gives them an assignment for the day they finally find themselves settled in the promised land. They are to take ten-percent of the “first fruits” of their harvest and take it to the Temple. Once there, they are to gratefully present their gift. Then, they are to tell the story of their people.

  • “My father was a wandering Aramean…”
  • Slavery.
  • Crying out.
  • Deliverance.
  • Land.
  • Abundance.

The story is packed with meaning. The story is personal and compelling. The story holds an infinite number of lessons.

Don’t recite a list of lessons.

Just tell the story.

In fact, Jesus used the same pedagogy. He told stories. And when Jesus ascended into heaven He told His followers to be “witnesses.” What does a witness do? A witness gets up on the stand and tells their story. And the story Moses tells his people to share is connected to the story Jesus wants me to share.

Slavery → Cry → Deliverance → Gifted Land
Sin → Desperation → Christ → New Life

Very rarely has anyone recited back to me the content of a training session or message I’ve delivered. It is very common for people to tell me, “I remember that story you told.”

In the quiet this morning, I find God echoing the simple foundation of His message throughout the entire Great Story from Genesis to Revelation.

Trust the Story. Tell the Story.

So, my friend, let me tell the Story of what Jesus has done for me…

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

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Not History – A Moment Relived

Three times a year all your men must appear before the Lord your God at the place he will choose: at the Festival of Unleavened Bread, the Festival of Weeks and the Festival of Tabernacles. No one should appear before the Lord empty-handed: Each of you must bring a gift in proportion to the way the Lord your God has blessed you.
Deuteronomy 16:16-17 (NIV)

Last week we enjoyed our Christmas celebration with family. I enjoyed going to the Christmas Eve candlelight service and marking the climactic end of the Advent season and welcoming the Christ-child, God-with-us.

There is definitely a connection between the annual celebration of the Advent season and Christmas and today’s chapter. God through Moses reminds His people that when they settle in the Promised Land they are to have three great pilgrimage festivals. Everyone makes a pilgrimage to “the place God will choose” at three different times of year for three different purposes:

  1. Passover / Feast of Unleavened Bread – a remembering of liberation.
  2. Feast of Weeks (Shavuot) – a remembering of provision.
  3. Feast of Booths (Sukkot) – a remembering of dependence.

These festivals provided structure, not only for the calendar, but also for the soul.

My meditation on today’s chapter led me to a Hebrew word: Z’manim.

In its simple definition z’manim means “times” or “appointed moments.” But God’s base language is metaphor, and metaphors are layered with meaning. I’ve learned that this is especially true with the Hebrew language.

Z’manim gives breath to time.

Appointment (something set, not random)

Readiness (a moment that has ripened)

Intended timing (not just when, but why now)

This is not clock time. This is meaningful time. It is time with purpose stitched into it. Time that has been noticed. Claimed. Set apart.

God does not dwell just in places. He inhabits moments.

Which brings me back to Christmas Eve and the end of the Advent Season. Why do this every year? Why did God prescribe three festivals every year? The intention was never a rote, prescribed, go-through-the-motions religious activity. That’s dead religion not a Living God. Annual seasons and festivals were moments in time in which I commune with the divine and together we embrace a moment new and afresh.

Freedom from chains that bind me.
Gratitude for the abundance of my blessings.
Reminder that security is always borrowed.
The birth of God who became flesh and pitched His tent among us.

Along my spiritual journey I have been largely naive and ignorant of the ways God has historically revealed Himself in fullness. I understand more than ever how easy it is for institutional religion to become rote and repeated motions that are Spiritually empty and void of meaning. But from ancient days through this current day, God has invited me to meet him in z’manim – moments of time filled with His presence and a banquet of meaning on which my soul can feast and be satisfied.

On Christmas Eve, bathed in candlelight and singing Silent Night with loved ones, we welcomed a newborn baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. It wasn’t just a commemoration. It was not dusting off history. It was, once again, the event relived – together with God and with loved ones.

It was z’manim.

And in the next few days the z’manim shifts. Old things pass away with 2025. New things come with 2026.

In the quiet I am reminded that I dare not ponder what that means for me apart from the reality of “God with us.”

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

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Seduced by the Unseen

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.
Hebrews 11:1 (NIV)

Unseen.

That’s the word that leapt off the page again and again this morning as I meditated on the well-known chapter. It’s known as faith’s Hall of Fame.

The author starts by saying that faith is assurance of what we do not see. The word faith in Greek (pistis) was a term from relationship and politics: loyalty, trustworthiness, fidelity. In Roman culture, it was the glue of friendships and alliances. When the author of Hebrews repeatedly pens the words “by faith,” he’s whispering: “They aligned their lives with God. They trusted His character enough to follow, to act.”

And with each example, the author points out that they are following and acting upon the “unseen.”

Creation that came into being from unseen nothingness.
Enoch, who walked so intimately with God he was no longer seen.
Noah, who built a boat in the desert in preparation for unseen storms.
Abraham, who followed God to a land promised but not yet seen.

The author is speaking at once on a grand eternal scale and a dusty, earthly one. He points out that this entire temporal life journey is leading to a City, a home, an eternal reality that we do not see. In this we are sharing the same journey with all of these well-known characters in the Great Story who have gone before us.

At the same time, it’s that assurance of the unseen that shapes the way I enter and traverse my 21,759th day walking through this world. Everyone mentioned in today’s chapter had their own mundane days to trek through. These people aren’t flawless, they’re faith-full. A drunk, a murderer, a vain self-centered jock, a liar, an adulterer. They are remembered for their trust, not their perfection. What God was looking for was faith amidst the rough edges of their very human flaws, not a polished religious finish meant to hide them. They each pressed on daily toward promises unseen.

I love that Rahab is chosen for mention. A woman, a Canaanite, and a sex worker. The author could have chosen Miriam, Deborah, or Hannah. He chooses Rahab and breaks every box of religiosity. Faith loves people with a past.

As I sat in the quiet and meditated on this, it struck me that all these ancient lovers of God are not far away. They’re not marble statues in a faith hall of fame. They’re close. A cloud of witnesses pressed up around me like warm bodies in a crowded room, whispering, “Keep going, Tom.
Don’t stop. We’ve walked this way too.”

So, in the quiet this morning, I realize that I am seduced by the unseen. God wired me for wonder. My spirit is tuned to that point-of-tension between what is and what’s still just beyond the veil. When today’s chapter speaks of the unseen — of walking toward a country you’ve never seen, of trusting a God that cannot be measured — it presses all my deepest buttons:

My longing for meaning.
My hunger to taste the divine in every bland task.
My desire to be drawn into something bigger, riskier, holier.

And so, on this Monday of a short work week leading to an annual day of gratitude, I’m lacing up my walking boots. I’m pressing on in the journey towards an earthly future and an eternal City that are both unseen. But I feel it in my spirit. It burns in my bones. It continues to seduce me to press on while an unseen cloud of witnesses whisper their encouragement.

Have a great week friends.

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

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Our Tent is Full

“How beautiful are your tents, Jacob,
    your dwelling places, Israel!

“Like valleys they spread out,
    like gardens beside a river,
like aloes planted by the Lord,
    like cedars beside the waters.
Water will flow from their buckets;
    their seed will have abundant water.”

Numbers 24:5-7 (NIV)

Wendy and I are still amidst the slow process of addressing the contents of our lake house that was sold last December. This past weekend Wendy placed a shoebox on the kitchen island that contained all of the photos that we’d collected over 15 years and displayed on the walls there. I spent a little time digging through them. So many good times and memories with our family and dear friends. As Wendy and I paused to pray before breakfast yesterday, I felt a surge of gratitude for God’s goodness and blessing, and I expressed our thanks and praise.

Today’s chapter is a continuation of the story of Balak, King of Moab, and the spiritual guru for hire named Balaam whom he’s hired in hopes of cursing the Hebrew tribes camped in the wilderness and ensuring their defeat. Twice Balaam has gone through his pagan divination rituals only to have God demand from him a blessing for the Hebrews. Now, a third time, Balak demands a curse from the famous seer.

What’s interesting about this third oracle is that Balaam does not go through his normal pagan divination rituals. Instead, he “turned his face toward the wilderness” to look at the Hebrew camp. The Spirit of God comes upon him and he utters a word of prophecy like a true prophet of God and Israel. The Gentile pagan is used by God to bless His people, much like Zoroastrian astrologers from Persia showing up in Bethlehem to bless the infant Jesus with gold, frankincense, and myrrh. God is God. Throughout the Great Story God breaks standard operating procedures to use the most unlikely of individuals for His good purposes.

Balaam’s final message of blessing over Israel is fascinating when I meditate on the context. The Hebrew people are wanderers at this point in the story. They have no fortress. They have no palaces. They have no city walls or city gates. They are wayfaring strangers traveling through a wilderness of woe. But Balaam sees beauty in their tents, their tribes, and their families. The Hebrew people are a “garden” of goodness filled with a flowing abundance of love, joy, and shalom. Balaam sees the very thing God intended for His people all along and declared back at Mount Sinai before they set out. These people are different. God is with them. They are blessed.

As I meditate on these things in the quiet this morning, my mind wanders back to the photographs from fifteen years of family and friends at the lake. Good food, good drink, quiet conversations over coffee in the morning, laughter and the sharing of life over cigars and Scotch on the dock as the sun sets. So much love, joy, and shalom. Our tent was full of abundance of the things that matter most in life.

Our tent is still full of that goodness. Despite the fact that our season of having the lake house is over, our tent here in Pella is just as abundant with goodness. Just this past week Taylor and four of her girlfriends (and one baby girl), came to our house for a girls retreat. Wendy and I were so blessed to host them, to overhear their laughter and their tears as they made time to share life. In an hour or so Wendy and I will gather in the kitchen for our morning ritual of coffee, smoothies, the headlines, and the sharing of our lives together.

Shalom.

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

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An Eternal Covenant of Salt

“Whatever is set aside from the holy offerings the Israelites present to the Lord I give to you and your sons and daughters as your perpetual share. It is an everlasting covenant of salt before the Lord for both you and your offspring.”
Numbers 18:19 (NIV)

I’m kind of in a foodie mood this week. Yesterday I mentioned our herb garden and the things I’ve been having fun creating with it, like the parsley almond salsa verde. Last night I used the mortar and pestle to grind some fresh Thyme, and loved the breathing in the fresh scent that filled the kitchen. Wendy and I have our grandson Milo with us this week, and tonight my Dad’s coming over for a good ol’ Iowa summer celebration with burgers on the grill and fresh Iowa sweet corn bathed in butter and seasoned with salt.

Salt is an every day seasoning for us. It sits on every table. We mindlessly shake it on our food and don’t stop to realize how ubiquitous it is in almost every recipe. For most of the history of human civilization salt was life. Before modern refrigeration emerged as a household convenience in the early 1900s, salt was the way the world preserved things for thousands of years. But it was more. It was used as currency (the word salary comes from salarium, as Roman soldiers were sometimes paid in salt). It was used as means of governmental control through salt taxes. To ancient cultures, salt was metaphorical for life itself. This was true for our fledgling Hebrew nation, as well. And, God gave salt even greater significance in the faith, ritual, and tradition of the Hebrews.

Remember that paying attention to the order of the text is important. Two chapters ago Korah led a rebellion against Moses, Aaron and the priesthood as God set it up. Yesterday, God affirmed His choice of Aaron and his family as the chosen priests. Today, God reminds Aaron and his family that when they enter the Promised Land (God’s still maintaining his faithfulness to that promise despite His people’s unwillingness to follow Him in a few chapters ago), their tribe will not get any land like all the other tribes because God Himself, and His eternal Kingdom are their inheritance. Their provision isn’t from working the land and grazing flocks and herds. Their provision is the tithes, sacrifices, and offerings the other 11 tribes bring to God. God calls this “an everlasting covenant of salt.” If you think about it, there’s a foreshadowing here of Jesus’ teaching on storing up treasure in heaven and not on earth. Hold onto that thought.

Salt was a prescribed by God as part of every sacrifice and offering. It was used in the making of the incense used at part of the rituals in the traveling tent Temple. Salt was also used as a binding agent when making covenants. God is making salt an important metaphor regarding preservation, holiness, seasoning, covenant, and sacrifice.

And yet, salt is so common, so simple, so humble, even gritty.

Fast forward to Jesus telling the crowd of poor, humble, common people on the mountainside “You are the salt of the earth.” Wait a minute. Just Aaron and his family were given the covenant of salt in today’s chapter. Jesus blows the doors wide open on the covenant. He came to make the everlasting covenant of salt with the simple, humble, gritty, every day people. No longer is it an exclusive and elite covenant for a select few. The covenant and calling is now offered to everyone, complete with all of the blessings and all of the responsibilities of sacrifice, faithfulness, and preservation of the covenant.

One of the things that salt has been known for over history is its permanence. Pure salt doesn’t decay. The ancients, however, knew that when mingled with dust and dirt, salt could be diluted. It could lose its effectiveness.

In the quiet this morning, I’m reminded that when Adam and Eve chose to follow their pride and appetites over obedience, the result was that they had to leave community with God in the Garden and return “to the dust of the earth.” Fascinating that Jesus first tells the crowd of common, poor, and uneducated people that they are the “salt of the earth” warning them not to lose their saltiness. A few minutes later He tells them not to store up treasure on earth that just gets covered in dust, but to store up eternal treasure in heaven like Aaron and his family who didn’t get a dusty parcel of land but rather, through being faithful in sacrifice, received the blessing of God’s provision.

Today, when I reach for the salt, I will be reminded:

That Jesus graciously made with me an everlasting covenant of salt. I am part of the royal priesthood, complete with the responsibility of sacrifice and the blessing of God’s provision.

That the dust of earthly treasure only dilutes me spiritually, rendering me less spiritually flavorful, useful, and effective.

That I want my loved ones, my community, and everyone I come into contact with to find me to bring seasoning, sacrificial servant heartedness, and a hint of God’s eternal kingdom in all I say and do.

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

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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!
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Trumpet Sound

“The sons of Aaron, the priests, are to blow the trumpets. This is to be a lasting ordinance for you and the generations to come.”
Numbers 10:8 (NIV)

I was saddened yesterday to hear of the death of Chuck Mangione. The jazz trumpeter made famous by playing his iconic flugelhorn, was among the best trumpet players of the late 20th century. His Live at the Hollywood Bowl album (and yes, I owned the vinyl LP), in which he played his most memorable works with full orchestra, was a regular part of the rotation on the playlist of my bedroom stereo as a teenager. There’s just something about the sound of a trumpet being played well.

In today’s chapter, God commands Moses to have two, special silver trumpets made. He then commands that the priests use these trumpets for multiple purposes:

  1. Calling all of the people to gather.
  2. Calling the leaders of the twelve tribes to gather.
  3. To let the tribes know when it’s time to begin marching.
  4. Before you go into battle against an opposing army.
  5. When you rejoice and make offerings at one of the prescribed festivals.

God is, here in the early chapters of the Great Story, establishing a metaphor that will be thematically used throughout the entirety of Story. In fact, the first mention of a trumpet came two-years before today’s chapter when the freed Hebrew slaves reached Mount Sinai and first camped beneath the mountain. God’s presence descended on the top of the Mountain:

“On the morning of the third day there was thunder and lightning, with a thick cloud over the mountain, and a very loud trumpet blast. Everyone in the camp trembled.
Exodus 19:16 (NIV)

While it’s certainly possible God had an angel sound the trumpet (as He does throughout the Great Story), from the Hebrews’ perspective, it was God Himself playing a trumpet blast on top of the mountain announcing His presence and it send chills down their spine.

God even calls one of the prescribed regular national festivals for His people the Festival of Trumpets. God regularly uses the metaphor of trumpet blasts through the prophets most often to signal that God is speaking or has something to say through His messenger. Jesus told His followers that in the end times Father God will “send his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of the heavens to the other.” In the Revelation given John of the end times there are seven judgements on the earth marked by a trumpet blast. In fact, the trumpet is used more in Revelation than any other book in the entire Story, and the final trumpet blast prompts the Hallelujah Chorus by heaven’s angelic choir:

 “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Messiah, and he will reign for ever and ever.”

So, as I get to the end of another work week, I find myself meditating on the sound of trumpets. The sound of the trumpet brings to mind the words of the Sage of Ecclesiastes because the trumpet blast typically marked that it was “time”…

Time to gather.
Time to move.
Time to rejoice.
Time for God to speak.
Time for a long appointed event to take place.

In the quiet, my mind travels back to yesterday’s thoughts on learning to go with the flow of what God is doing. Just as I mentioned, much of this spiritual journey has been about waiting, being patient, and awaiting the moment for the right moment. In other words, I have found that this life journey has been learning to spiritually listen for the sound of God’s trumpet.

There’s just something about the sound of a trumpet.

R.I.P Chuck.

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

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Recitation and Relationships

Recitation and Relationships (CaD Matt 18) Wayfarer

“This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”
Matthew 18:35 (NIV)

Every week our local gathering of Jesus’ followers says The Lord’s Prayer together. As we do, Wendy and I tend to paraphrase the traditional language a bit on our own. I think it’s funny and fascinating that the institutional church chooses to update the wording of certain things (music, translation of the Bible, the wording of the Apostle’s Creed, and etc.) but not others. Please don’t read what I’m not writing. I don’t think there’s anything particularly wrong or right. It’s the kind of ecclesiastical hair-splitting that have, for too long, gotten people’s undies in a bunch and caused more harm than good.

I see both sides of traditional words and phrasing for well-worn passages. Sometimes the traditional, yet out-of-date, wording is like a comfy old sweatshirt that wraps you in the warmth and comfort of something familiar which has been with you and seen you through long stretches of life’s journey. On the other hand, I have often found that as I press into new and unfamiliar stretches of life’s journey, I am challenged to address new and extraordinary circumstances that require me to find new layers of wisdom in traditional thoughts and meditations.

And, as the Bard famously said, “there’s the rub.”

I know, personally, that when I recite the same words over and over and over again, they begin to lose their potency. I’m just going through the motions. So, I tend to do what I was taught as I studied acting. You take the memorized line of a script and play with it, emphasizing a different word or phrase with increased inflection with each subsequent recitation. As I am fond of saying, metaphors are layered with meaning, and often as I emphasize and change my inflection with different words in the oft repeated sentence, it makes me consider different ways of considering the same words or phrases.

One of the phrases of The Lord’s Prayer that has taken on increased meaning for me as I have practiced this is: “and forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.” This is a request with a stated acknowledgement of reciprocal relational responsibility. I’m asking God to forgive my sins, while acknowledging that I can only expect to be forgiven to the degree I am willing to forgive those who have wronged me.

In today’s chapter, Jesus unpacks this uncomfortable spiritual principle in a parable. A king has a servant who owes him a thousand dollars he has never been able to pay. Upon the pleading of the indebted servant, the king mercifully forgives the debt. This same man exits the kings chamber and runs into a fellow servant who owes him ten bucks. He goes postal on the dude, demanding the ten-spot without even considering the weight of debt from which he’d just been graciously and mercifully freed. The king finds out about the hypocrisy, hauls the ungrateful servant into his court and had him tortured until he paid every cent he was owed.

Now comes the intense and uncomfortable part. Jesus follows up this parable by stating quite directly: “This is how my heavenly Father will treat you, Tom, unless you forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”

Ouch. Hello, sobering Monday morning meditation. When I recited those famous words with my fellow followers yesterday, there’s potent spiritual punch lurking behind the well-worn words. Forgive me God, just as I have forgiven those who’ve sinned against me. Wait a minute. Maybe there are some heart and relationship matters I should have addressed before I showed up in my Sunday best to go through the religious motions.

In the quiet this morning, I find myself entering another work week thinking about my relational realities in light of my religious recitations. If there’s a disconnect between the two, then the latter was an impotent ritual. That’s the thing about a cozy old sweatshirt. If it becomes threadbare and filled with holes, it has lost its ability to accomplish the original purpose.

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!

Needed Words

“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.

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!

The Holy and the Profane

The Holy and the Profane (CaD Ezk 36) Wayfarer

“I had concern for my holy name, which the people of Israel profaned among the nations where they had gone.”
Ezekiel 36:21 (NIV)

Growing up, my mother had a set of fine china and a “silver service” of tableware that was actually silver and had to be polished. The entire set was kept in a special box. It only came out on very special occasions. You knew that when mom broke out the fine china a very special meal was about to take place. It was an event.

Imagine, if you will, a Twilight Zone-esque scenario in which I needed to feed our dog, Tuffy. So, I broke open the box of my mom’s fine china and grabbed one of the large plates along with one of her silver serving spoons. I popped open a can of that nasty-looking brown stuff you feed dogs and I dug that gunk out of the can with mom’s silver spoon onto the fine china plate and then threw it on the floor for the dog. Just as I do this my Mom walks in and sees what I’ve just done. How do you think she would have reacted? You are correct, I would very quickly have been living outside in the kennel with Tuffy. Fortunately, I knew better than to feed the dog with mom’s fine china.

Along life’s road, I had heard the word “profanity” many, many times. Usually, it had to do with “bad words” that I wasn’t supposed to use. I was in college before I learned that “profanity” means to “empty something of its meaning.” I’ll never forget watching Professor McFadzean miming the action of dumping something upside down and spilling its contents on the floor. You take something meaningful and treat it as if it’s meaningless.

Taking mom’s fine china and feeding Tuffy with it is the act of profaning it. It has a very special meaning for my mother. It’s exclusive, meant only for rare occasions to serve the finest food for the most worthwhile moments in life. Feeding the dog with it empties it of that meaning. It profanes it.

Back in Exodus, when God revealed Himself to Moses from the burning bush, God told Moses His name: “Yahweh” which means “I Am.” God told His people that this name was holy. It was special. It was sacred. Therefore, they never uttered it. It was too holy to even speak it.

In today’s chapter, God through Ezekiel proclaims that one day He is going to bring all of His people back from exile to the land of Israel. Jerusalem would be rebuilt. God’s people and the land would once again prosper with life. But then God repeatedly tells them that the Hebrew exiles have profaned His name among the nations where they are living in exile. They took something holy and sacred and metaphorically threw it on the ground and stomped on it. He goes on to tell them that when He brings the exiles home and restores the land He is doing it for the sake of His Holy name. In other words, it’s not because God’s people earned it or deserved it. It’s because God is a holy God, love incarnate and full of grace.

In the quiet this morning, I find my mind going down two trails of thought. The first is very simple and straightforward as it relates to what I’ve known to be profanity my entire life. I find it fascinating that in our culture the name of Jesus Christ is used as common swear words. We don’t do that with Buddha, Mohammed, or Krishna. But people routinely take the name that “is above all names” and the name at which demons flee and at which scripture says “every knee will bow and every tongue confess.” We take that name and use it as an empty, meaningless, momentary exclamation of everyday anger. That’s profane to the core.

The other trail my mind went down is to think about what Jesus did for all of us. What God is proclaiming to His people in exile is very much a foreshadowing of what He will do through Jesus. Not restoring and redeeming land and a city, but restoring and redeeming our hearts and souls through the death and resurrection of Jesus. Not because we deserve it or somehow earned it, but because He is Love and full of grace.

And that is holy.

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

Made for More

Made for More (CaD Ezk 15) Wayfarer

“Son of man, how is the wood of a vine different from that of a branch from any of the trees in the forest? Is wood ever taken from it to make anything useful?”
Ezekiel 15:2-3 (NIV)

I come from a family of carpenters and craftsmen. My father has my great-grandfather’s tool box. My grandfather told us that his father began by making wooden dowels by hand that were used as fasteners before metal nails and screws were widely available. It is believed that he worked his way up to building boats and ships before he came to the States. He worked as a carpenter before starting his own Hardware Store.

For the record, I did not inherit those genes. Though I have spent a lifetime around my father who can still make just about anything out of available scraps of wood that happen to be lying around. And, I’ve watched my brother, a luthier, turn different types of wood into fine handmade guitars.

In today’s chapter, God gives Ezekiel a prophetic metaphor in which God’s people in Jerusalem are compared to a vine. It’s interesting to note that both Isaiah (5:1-6) and Ezekiel’s contemporary, Jeremiah (2:21), also use the same vine metaphor. Both Isaiah and Jeremiah describe God’s disappointment with His “vineyard” not producing good fruit. Ezekiel, on the other hand, expresses that the vine is utterly useless. To his point, my father could not use the wood of the vine to craft a frame for his stained-glass, nor could my brother make a guitar out of it. Therefore, if the vine is fruitless it is useless except to be used as fuel on a fire.

When Jesus arrived on the scene, He takes the metaphor of the vine to another level. He tells us that He is “the True Vine” and as His disciple, I am a branch on that Vine. The goal is the same as it ever was: to bear the good fruit of God’s Spirit which is love in all of its facets. Jesus then talks of me being pruned along the life-cycle in order to produce more pure, deep, and abundant love. I only become useless if I produce no fruit and am cut-off from the Vine. Then, Jesus says, the outcome is the same that Zeke proclaims: the burn pile.

The truth on which the vine metaphor is established is that I was made with a purpose, just as God called His people with a purpose. I’m not useless. I’m called to be a life-giving organism producing the fruit of love and bringing God’s Kingdom to earth through that love. When I remain connected to the True Vine, I allow the Living Water from the root structure to flow through my branch and leaves spreading all of the vital nutrients of Word, prayer, relationship, and witness to have its life-giving, fruit-producing effect. The prophetic warning only comes if and when I fail to interact with the Vine. Then I will slowly, day-by-day, decision-by-decision, step-by-step, spiritually dry-up. My leaves wither. There is no joy, or peace, or love.

As I head into a new work week, I am thankful for purpose. I was lovingly made. I am grafted into a True Vine. I am called to produce the fruit of God’s Spirit, and thus bring God’s Kingdom to every one, every day.

Yesterday, Wendy and I spent time in worship with our local gathering of Jesus’ followers. We sang a song that welled up in my head and heart as I meditated on these things. I share it with you as I head into my day. May I always be mindful that I was made for more.

I wasn’t made to be tending a grave
I was called by name
Born and raised back to life again
I was made for more
So why would I make a bed in my shame
When a fountain of grace is running my way
I know I am Yours
And I was made for more

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