Tag Archives: Prayer

Chapter-a-Day

Learning to Observe

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Those who led the way rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”
Luke 18:39 (NIV)

When I was in college studying acting, my professor sent us on an unusual assignment. He sent us a few miles up the road to a busy shopping mall. We were told to sit in the middle of the mall for at least two hours.

Watch people.
Really observe them.
How they move.
Their unusual tics.
The particular way they behave with others.

The goal was to teach me as an actor about creating a realistic and believable character on stage. It’s more than memorizing lines and regurgitating them on stage. It’s about creating a real person.

With a particular gate to his walk.
Mannerisms unique to his character.
A specific way he reacts and responds physically.

That lesson profited me far beyond my training for the stage.
The importance of observation was an entire life-lesson.
It had spiritual implications.

In my daily life. On this chapter-a-day journey.
I keep the eyes and ears of my heart open.
Observing.
Watching for patterns, repetition, and surprises.

As I read and meditated on today’s chapter, I noticed something.

The chapter is book-ended with a parable and an episode.
There’s a connection.

The parable concerns a judge and an old widow.
A widow in the culture of Jesus’ day was a nobody.
Marginalized.
Poor.
Zero social status.
Everyday she begged the judge to hear her case.
Everyday.
She made herself annoying.
Until the judge heard the case just to shut her up.

At the end of the chapter, Jesus is walking through a crowd.
On the side of the road was a blind man.
A beggar.
He shouts, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me!”
Again. And again. And again.
Annoyed, those around him tell him to shut up.
He yells louder.
Jesus stops. Calls the man over, and heals him.

The widow knocked on the judge’s door.
The blind man shouted into the crowd.
Different scenes. Same audacity.

A week or so ago, I was struck by a similar parable Jesus told.
The neighbor who begs for bread at midnight.
Shameless audacity.
Socially inappropriate.

What struck me as I meditated on these things this morning was that I was observing a pattern in the parables and stories that are lifting off the page for me in the quiet.

Prayer.
Pleading.
Persistence.
A holy refusal to be ignored.

It’s a Holy Spirit whisper.

“Pray Tom.
Keep praying.
Be bold.
Be audacious.
Don’t stop.
Try to annoy me.”

And so in the quiet this morning and observable pattern informs me of my marching orders.

And with that, I will finish this post.

I have some praying to do.

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

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Chapter-a-Day

Socially Inappropriate

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I tell you, even though he will not get up and give you the bread because of friendship, yet because of your shameless audacity he will surely get up and give you as much as you need.
Luke 11:8 (NIV)

Like most people, almost everything I was taught about God, church, and worship was all about propriety.

Sit still.
Be quiet.
Fold your hands.
Bow your head.
Dress nice.
Take off your hat.

The problem with this is that God’s description of worship is not that.

“Clap your hands, all you nations; shout to God with cries of joy.” (Psalm 47:1)
“Shout for joy to God, all the earth…” (Psalm 66:1–2)
“…let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation.” (Psalm 95:1–2)
“Let them praise his name with dancing…” (Psalm 149:3)
“Praise him with timbrel and dancing…” (Psalm 150:4)

This past Sunday, I yelled in church. More than once. I shouted out praise.

People were uncomfortable. I did it anyway. It wasn’t about them.

The further I progress in my journey, the more I have come to embrace just how significantly His ways are not our ways. Which means if I’m going to do things God’s way, I’m going to have to break out of my comfort zone.

And then there’s prayer.

In today’s chapter, right after teaching His disciples the “Lord’s Prayer,” Jesus tells one of His strangest parables. It’s one of those you rarely hear taught because, it’s uncomfortable.

A man shows up at his neighbor’s door at midnight after everyone is asleep. He needs to borrow some bread for unexpected guests. The woken neighbor tries to beg off, but the man will not stop pounding and begging until the neighbor finally relents and gives the man bread to shut him up.

Jesus says the man had “shameless audacity.” But this is another case of the original Greek word not having a good English equivalent.

The Greek word is anaideia. It is literally translated “without shame,” but here’s the twist… in Greek culture, anaideia is almost always negative.

It’s not polite boldness.
It’s not admirable persistence.

It leans more toward:

The person who keeps knocking when everyone else would slink away.
Brazen nerve.
Thick-skinned insistence.
A refusal to be embarrassed.

Jesus is essentially saying: “This guy gets what he needs not because he’s polite, but because he refuses to feel shame about asking.”

That feels like yelling out loud in church.

In a culture built on honor and shame, this is almost scandalous. The man at the door is violating social norms:

It’s midnight
The household is asleep
The request is inconvenient

And yet… he just keeps knocking.

Not a gentle tap.

Not a “sorry to bother you.”

This is persistent, socially inappropriate, borderline annoying knocking.

And Jesus says:

That’s the posture that moves the door.

And in the quiet this morning, that makes me extremely uncomfortable. Shame has always been my native language. It seeps out of me as pessimism. I was taught to be timid in asking for things.

“Be content with what you have.”
“Take what you’re given and be happy.”
“Don’t ask for too much, it’s rude.”
“You don’t deserve it anyway, so just don’t ask.”
“Don’t expect too much, you’re probably not going to get it anyway.”

Jesus paints a picture of prayer that feels almost… scandalous:

Not polished.
Not proper.
Not carefully worded.

But:

Bold
Relentless
Unembarrassed

The kind of prayer that says:
“I know it’s late.”
“I know this is inconvenient.”
“I know I’ve already asked.”
“But I’m still here. Still Knocking. Not going away.”

Heaven’s door doesn’t open for the well-mannered.
It opens for the ones who won’t stop knocking.

For me, there’s something quietly intoxicating about this.

A permission slip… to be a little undignified with God.

To knock like you mean it.

It’s like shouting in church.

Undignified.
Uncomfortable.

And exactly the point.

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

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Chapter-a-Day

Into the Quiet

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One of those days Jesus went out to a mountainside to pray, and spent the night praying to God.
Luke 6:12 (NIV)

This past week I fulfilled a long time desire. A friend and I drove to New Malleray Abbey in northeast Iowa and spent 24 hours in a personal retreat. The Abbey is home to Cistercian monks and they welcome guests to stay with them. It’s not on a mountain, but northeast Iowa is about the closest thing we have to it.

For a small donation, I was given a simple room—bed, desk, chair, bathroom. Seven times a day at set hours, the monks gather for prayer, beginning with Vigil at 4:30 a.m. and ending with Compline at 7:30 p.m. We attended each during our stay. Otherwise, we were in our “cell” in complete quiet.

No phone.
No television.
No internet.

My Bible, my journal, and silence.

There was no set agenda or program. My friend and I discussed before we left what we intended to do in the quiet. I went into the time with some things on which I wanted to pray. Three things on which I wanted to meditate.

As I read today’s chapter, I found myself back on that mountainside. Before choosing His twelve disciples, Jesus went up on a mountain-side, by Himself, to pray through the night.

A few verses later, Luke reports that a “large crowd of disciples” were gathered to hear Jesus teach.

Jesus had a crowd of disciples.
He knew He needed to choose twelve.
He went off by Himself for a day and a night of silence and prayer.

After our twenty-four hours, my friend and I had a three-hour drive home during which we stopped for lunch. We not only processed what we had experienced in our first time at the Abbey, but we also processed what we had learned and heard in our extended time in prayer and the issues we brought with us on our list.

There were no angelic visits. No miraculous moments. But something quieter—and perhaps more enduring—took place. There was, however, a trinity of progressive outcomes.

First, there was increased clarity about the issues we each prayed about.
Like Jesus getting clarity about who the twelve should be.

This led to the second outcome. As my friend and I processed the clarity we received in our time of silence and prayer, it led to very intimate and transparent conversations with one another about them. This, in turn, created even more clarity and moved the needle for both of us.

The final outcome was that we realized how much we needed this, and we’ve already begun to discuss our next silent retreat.

One of the themes of Luke’s version of the Jesus Story is Jesus penchant for spending times in solitary prayer. He mentions it nine times. More than any of the other three gospel writers. In today’s chapter, Jesus finishes His message talking about the difference between those who hear His teaching and apply it, and those who hear His teaching and don’t.

As I meditated on this in the quiet this morning, it struck me that Jesus’ teaching was not just in His words — He was teaching with His life.

It turns out that mountainsides aren’t just for Jesus.

As I mentioned at the beginning of today’s post, my silent retreat at the Abbey has been a long-time desire.

I regret that it took me so long to do it.

It won’t be long before I do it again.

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

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Chapter-a-Day

An 11-Day Trip in 40-Years

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(It takes eleven days to go from Horeb to Kadesh Barnea by the Mount Seir road.)
Deuteronomy 1:2 (NIV)

In the fall of 2003, I made a trip to Israel with my boss and long-time mentor. It was never meant to be a simple vacation. Chuck, who founded our business along with his late wife, Charleen, was planning to retire from the business at the end of 2004. My colleague Scott and I would be taking it over. Chuck had discipled both Scott and me as young men in high school and college. We’d journeyed together in life and business for many years, and the transfer of the business that Chuck and Charleen founded was a major milestone. Chuck wanted to go to Israel, to share the experience together, and to pray over the next phase of our shared journey.

I have many fond memories of that trip. In particular, I remember sitting atop Mount Arbel on the north west of the Sea of Galilee. When Jesus went up on a mountain to pray, I have to believe Mount Arbel was at least one of the places. It affords a panoramic view of the Sea of Galilee. 

From the top of Mount Arbel you can see fields white unto harvest, Capernaum, and the fishing villages that dot the Galilee shore. In the distance is the Decapolis region where so much of Jesus ‘ministry unfolded. Standing on top of Arbel would have been like a strategy session for Jesus and His ministry. It was on top of Arbel that Chuck, Scott, and I spent an extended time of prayer for the business, for where God would lead us.

Today we begin the book of Deuteronomy. It is the last of the five books of Moses, known also as the Torah, or what Jews refer to as “The Law.” The word Deuteronomy means “second telling.” It’s a repeat of the story thus far since the book of Exodus, which for modern readers is a bit of a head scratcher. Especially those poor souls who made their New Year’s resolution to read through the Bible cover-to-cover and have already slogged through Leviticus and Numbers.

“What!? The same thing all over again? Are you kidding me?!”

I suspect no small number of New Year’s Bible-reading resolutions die somewhere in early Deuteronomy. But, context is everything. Sometimes, those stories your grandparents bored you with as a child take on new meaning forty years later in life when you have grandchildren of your own.

As Deuteronomy opens, Moses and the Hebrew tribes are standing on the shore of the River Jordan in the land of Moab. Across the Jordan is the Promised Land. They have been here before, but that was 40 years ago. The people to whom Moses is speaking are not the same Hebrews who stood here then. This is a new generation. Some were babies and little children. Many had not been born. God has brought them here to claim the very promise their parents and grandparents once stood poised to inherit. Moses is retiring. He will not go with them. Joshua is taking over leadership of the company.

For the young Hebrews looking at the sun sparkle off the water of the Jordan River and gazing at the land beyond, the Story is not a boring rehash. It’s memory as mentorship. This is Moses saying, “I love you enough to tell the truth about where we’ve been… so you do not repeat it.”

Jewish sages see this passage as a parental moment. A loving father preparing his children for spreading their wings and taking flight on their own. And one of the main themes in the retelling is how fear short-circuits faith and destiny. They’d been right here 40 years ago. But, their parents and grandparents were afraid. They were afraid because fear choked out the courage to follow God into the land He promised. Even though God had delivered them from Egypt, had miraculously appeared on the mountain and given the Law, had miraculously led them every step of the way with a pillar of fire by night and a pillar of cloud by day as guides.

At the very beginning of the chapter, Moses adds a parenthetical that stands out like a sore thumb in the text. It doesn’t fit in the flow:

(It takes eleven days to go from Horeb to Kadesh Barnea by the Mount Seir road.)

Moses is making a cheeky point. What could and should have been an eleven day trip has taken them 40 years to bring them to this place in this moment — because they were afraid to follow God into the Promised Land. Forty years in the wilderness was not so much punishment as it was spiritual formation. Along my journey I’ve learned that God does not just pass students onto the next grade if they haven’t learned the required lessons. Some souls spend their entire earthly lives repeating spiritual Kindergarten, never quite trusting the Teacher enough to move on.

I suppose that’s why my thoughts drift back to Mount Arbel—memory as mentorship, then and now. In the quiet this morning, I feel the wind whipping across the top of Mount Arbel. I stare out across the Sea of Galilee out of which flows the Jordan River. I remember Chuck, Scott, and I praying about our own moment of transition.

Will I have faith to step into God’s promise, or will I flee in fear?

“Do not be afraid,” Moses said to them. This phrase will be used more in the book of Deuteronomy than any other book in the Great Story. It is a father, a mentor lovingly urging those he’s loved and raised to embrace faith over their fears, to learn the lessons of the past, and to step into the promises God has spoken over their future.

What a great reminder as I step into another week, as I step into the final month of 2025, and as I stand on the precipice of a new year in which I will begin the seventh decade of my earthly journey. I don’t think this trek through Deuteronomy will be mindless repetition. I think it holds spiritual truths that will be essential for the road ahead.

So I lace ’em up again—heart steady, spirit willing. Here we go. I hope you’ll join me on the journey.

Have a great day, my friend.

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

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Chapter-a-Day

Finishing Well

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…so I sent messengers to them with this reply: “I am carrying on a great project and cannot go down. Why should the work stop while I leave it and go down to you?”
Nehemiah 6:3 (NIV)

It’s Friday morning. Where did the week go? I confess that when I woke at 5:00 this morning to continue writing and moving my book project forward, I felt a strong desire to roll over. I’m finishing up the sixth of eight chapters in the manuscript. I can see the finish line. Sometimes the hardest part of a project is getting through the long slog in the middle. I’m feeling it.

I love it when I read the morning’s chapter and it’s as if God tailored it for this exact moment in time. As I waded into Nehemiah’s wall building project, I found him at exactly the same place I am. The wall is nearing completion. The doors and gates have yet to be placed and set, but the 2.5 mile long wall that was 40 feet tall and eight feet thick has been repaired and restored.

Jerusalem’s enemies have not given up on thwarting the project but they have switched tactics. Threats of attack didn’t work, so now they turn to deception. First they try to lure Nehemiah to a “meeting” under a false pretense of working out their differences. Next, they send a false messenger with a made up story hoping to lure Nehemiah into doing something they use as bad press against him.

Once again, Nehemiah displays characteristics that have made him the right man for this job and are the foundations of this projects success.

Focus. Nehemiah refuses to get distracted from the task at hand. We live at a time when endless distraction sits in the palm of our hand and is never more than an arm’s reach away. Nehemiah’s response to his detractors provides a great example for me to follow. “I’m focused on a great project! Why should I allow myself to be distracted?” I find it interesting that they requested a meeting four times and four times he had to repeat himself. The temptations of distraction don’t go away. Dogged determination is required to stay focused.

Faith. Prayer has been ever present in Nehemiah’s story. Nehemiah was always talking to God, asking for God’s help, and affirming his trust in God’s strength and provision. In today’s chapter, Nehemiah’s popcorn prayer is a simple one I could bear to repeat like a mantra in my current long slog and in the midst of every challenging stretch of this earthly journey: “Now strengthen my hands.”

Finishing Well. By the end of today’s chapter, the wall is completed. Nehemiah’s focus and faith led to the wall being rebuilt in a miraculous 52 days. It’s one thing to start a wall; it’s another to complete it. Faithfulness isn’t measured by enthusiasm at the beginning but by integrity at the end.

I’m drawing inspiration and motivation from Nehemiah’s success in the quiet this morning. The finish line is still sitting out there on the horizon for my current project. Nevertheless, I’m glad I rolled out of bed this morning instead of rolling over. The slog continues. I need to stay focused.

“Now, Lord, strengthen my hands.”

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

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Chapter-a-Day

Not Without Struggle

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Meanwhile, the people in Judah said, “The strength of the laborers is giving out, and there is so much rubble that we cannot rebuild the wall.”
Nehemiah 4:10 (NIV)

It’s October, which means post season baseball. Alas, our beloved Cubs made it to October this year but they didn’t have what they needed to get past the Division Series. C’est la vie.

Of course, the World Series will now and forever bring back memories of 2016, the year the Cubs broke their 108 year World Series drought and all of the legendary curses. For the most part, I remember that final out and the joy of that moment. A few weeks ago I watched the documentary of the World Series that year and spent some time remembering the Cubs’ journey through the entire post season.

It brought back a memory of lying in bed after the Cubs lost one of the play off games. I had descended into one of my brooding puddles of pessimism. Wendy, ever my life guard when I’m at risk for drowning in that puddle, quietly reminded me that great stories always have moments when things look darkest. It’s in overcoming the struggles that great stories are made. As I recounted all of the struggles of that post season and the World Series saga, I was reminded of just how many there were.

That came to mind this morning as I read today’s chapter. Nehemiah’s project of rebuilding Jerusalem’s walls is in full swing. Today’s chapter is all about the struggle from without and within. They are surrounded by enemies who don’t want Jerusalem rebuilt. Those enemies join forces and plot to attack and stop the project. They are insulted, jeered, and mocked. There is a constant threat of attack both night and day. At the same time, the people are getting worn out from the constant labor required. The excitement has worn off and the long slog is taking its toll on everyone. As I read the chapter I could feel the fear, the weariness, the discouragement.

If I were standing in Nehemiah’s sandals, I would be descending into. a brooding puddle of pessimism. But Nehemiah was the right man for the job. The first thing he always did was pray. He then forged a plan for continuing the work while defending the project both night and day. He created a system of alarm and a plan of action should the city be attacked. He continued to prayed constantly and he repeatedly encouraged everyone to trust God to both defend them and provide what was needed to see the project through.

I mentioned in yesterday’s post/podcast that every human endeavor of which I’ve been a part has encountered some kind of challenge, obstacle, and/or opposition. I sometimes wonder why I’m ever surprised by this. We are part of the Great Story, and Wendy’s observation holds true. There is no great story without conflict and struggle. It’s what makes the climactic final chapter so powerful.

I find myself thinking through the challenges and struggles I’m currently facing at work and in life. Nehemiah’s example feels a simple and apt reminder. Pray, plan, work the plan, and keep reminding myself of God’s eternal promises.

Time to get back to it. Have a great day, friend.

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

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Chapter-a-Day

“An Appeal to Heaven”

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I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people— for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness.
1 Timothy 2:1-2 (NIV)

In 1775, the American British Colonies were preparing for open war with Mother England. George Washington commissioned six schooners with the task of harassing British supply ships. They became known as “Washington’s Cruisers.” It was America’s first navy.

Betsy Ross had yet to stitch the stars and stripes as an official flag of the United States, and Washington’s Cruisers wanted a banner to sail under. The sailors turned to English philosopher, John Locke, who argued that when people live under tyranny and no appeal can be made to an earthly judge there is still “an appeal to heaven” that can be made. They stitched the words on a white flag with a pine tree representing the American pines that England tyrannically mandated could only be used for masts on British ships.

In today’s chapter, Paul urges his protégé and all the believers in Ephesus to make an appeal to heaven for “kings and all those in authority.” It must be noted that Paul’s command to pray for “all” in authority included the one man who was the highest human authority in the Roman Empire at the time: Emperor Nero. Paul had already been imprisoned in Rome once waiting for his appeal to Caesar to make its way up the docket. In a few years from the writing of this letter Paul will be imprisoned again. His appeal to Nero will never be realized and Nero will have Paul executed.

Paul, however, remains laser focused on his appeal to heaven. Paul appealed to Caesar back in Acts 25 knowing that, if successful, he would have an opportunity to share his story and Jesus’ message with the most powerful human authority on earth. Paul’s eyes were fixed on Jesus, and bringing God’s Kingdom to earth. His rights as a Roman citizen technically afforded him an opportunity to be ushered into Caesar’s throne room, and since the charges against him were rooted in his faith in Jesus and the riot it caused among his Jewish brethren, Paul would naturally have to testify regarding his faith as part of the trial. Paul is dying for the chance to share Jesus with Nero. In fact, the attempt will ultimately cost him his earthly life.

But that’s still a few years in the future. As he writes Timothy, he urges that everyone pray for all in authority, including the dreaded and debauched Emperor Nero who has murdered some of his own family members and had sex with others. Nero, who will cover Christians in pitch and burn them alive on stakes as entertainment and illumination for the orgy in his garden.

Pray for him.

When there is no other appeal to be made on earth, there is still an appeal to heaven.

In the quiet this morning, I can’t escape the current realities of our political divide, political hatred, political violence, political vengeance, and political retribution. I stand in the tension and have watched it on both sides of the political spectrum as it has progressively escalated in both camps over the past decade.

And so, Paul reminds me this morning along with Timothy. It doesn’t matter how dreaded and debauched, how deceptive and dastardly, I am called to make an appeal to heaven for “all those in authority.” Ultimately, God is the final appeal. So, I might as well make that appeal today.

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

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Chapter-a-Day

Recitation and Relationships

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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!
Chapter-a-Day

Traditions: Serious and Silly

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Traditions: Serious and Silly (CaD Matt 15) – Wayfarer

Then some Pharisees and teachers of the law came to Jesus from Jerusalem and asked, “Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders? They don’t wash their hands before they eat!”
Matthew 15:1-2 (NIV)

Traditions are a funny thing.

On one hand, I am a lover of history and so it easy for me to wax nostalgic about certain traditions. I can find incredible meaning and a depth of emotion within them. I can’t hear a horn blowing Taps without tearing up.

On the other hand, my individualist nature rebels when people take traditions too seriously.

In today’s chapter, there is an undercurrent that is easily lost on the casual reader. Matthew is careful to point out that some teachers of the law came from Jerusalem to inspect Jesus. Jerusalem was the home office. These officials were the big dogs sent to check up on all the rumors about an the upstart preacher who was #trending in flyover country by the Sea of Galilee.

The first thing that the grand inquisitors notice is that Jesus and His followers don’t follow the tradition of ceremonially washing their hands before they eat. This is a serious tradition that continues to this day. When I had the honor or visiting Jerusalem and enjoying a Sabbath feast at the King David hotel, there was a sink right there in the dining room for people to ceremonially wash their hands before the meal.

Traditions die hard.

Jesus pokes back at the inquisition, pointing out that they are rabid about the “tradition” of ceremonially washing their hands before a meal while completely ignoring God’s command to honor their parents if they can profit from it.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I mentioned in a recent post that I like hats. Growing up, I was forever getting in trouble with my father for wearing my hat at the dinner table. I always thought this odd because my friend Chef Alex is required to wear a hat around food to avoid hair falling into it. So the chef must wear a hat around the food but if I wear a hat at the table I’m offending people.

Even a year or so ago I stopped at my local church to pray during the lunch hour during our local gathering’s regularly scheduled Thursday prayer time. One of the sisters who serves by praying over people came by to ask if she could pray for me, which was kind of her. She, however, asked me to remove my hat as she was offended I would wear it inside the church. But, when I was in Jerusalem and attended synagogue or approached the Wailing Wall I was required to cover my head.

People are silly about traditions.

Jesus makes this point in today’s chapter though I have observed that it never gets much airplay on Sunday mornings. Poking at people’s sacred cows is a bit like poking a stick at a rabid dog. I’m not the sick one, but I’m probably going to get bit and I have to ask myself if it’s really worth it. When my sister asked me to remove my hat before she would pray over me I respectfully honored her request, though everything inside of me wanted to press her as to why she was offended. She probably would have quoted Paul’s letter to the believers in Corinth in which he says that, “Every man who prays or prophesies with his head covered dishonors his head.” But he follows that up by stating, “But every woman who prays or prophesies with her head uncovered dishonors her head.” I noticed that my sister was not wearing a head covering.

Perhaps I should have offered her my hat.

I also noticed that Paul wrote to believers in four different letters to “greet one another with a holy kiss.” My prayer sister didn’t so much as pucker her lips as she asked me to remove my hat, dangit.

People are silly about traditions.

In the quiet this morning, I love the fact that Jesus poked the big dogs from Jerusalem regarding their rabid hypocrisy when it came to their traditions. Less than a week after Good Friday, I’m equally reminded that these same rabid, big dogs will quite literally kill Him for it.

People get very serious about their traditions.

As a disciple of Jesus, I personally prefer to care more about the heart issues Jesus was concerned about and less about human traditions that make little or no sense in the grand scheme of things. But, that’s just me.

“Down, Cujo. Down!”

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

“Why Do We Pray Before Meals?”

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“Why Do We Pray Before Meals?” (CaD Matt 14) – Wayfarer

And he directed the people to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the people. They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over.
Matthew 14:19-20 (NIV)

“Why do we pray before meals?” Wendy asked me yesterday morning after I had prayed before breakfast.

It was a simple enough question. There are so many things in life that we do because they are habitual or traditional. We rarely stop to ask “Why?”

The question came back to mind as I read the chapter this morning. Jesus famously feeds a hungry crowd of 5,000 followers with just a handful of bread loaves and a couple of fish. Yet, there is so much more to this story than the surface event. It even addresses Wendy’s question.

We are blessed to live in the most affluent empire in human history during the most affluent age in human history. Never in the history of humanity has the simple human need for food been so abundantly satiated on our planet. I’m not saying that there aren’t places and people in the world who are struggling for their “daily bread,” but never in history has that number been so small. That is just the facts. Not only that, but here in America we have long struggled with the opposite problem. Food is so abundantly available that we have a problem with obesity.

Yet, for the crowds following Jesus to an isolated place to hear Him preach, and for God’s people leaving slavery in Egypt and wandering into the wilderness, the need for food simply to survive was critically real. And, this episode in today’s chapter is connected to the story of the Hebrews in the wilderness. It’s connected to the Lord’s Prayer that Jesus taught His followers to pray: “Give us this day our daily bread.”

For the Hebrews in the wilderness, God provided a miraculous bread from heaven called “manna.” Every morning when they woke up the manna covered the ground like dew. It was always just enough for that day, and if someone collected more than they needed for themselves and their family that day it would grow horribly rotten.

The spiritual lesson of manna, and of the loaves and fish, is profound in its simplicity: Trust God for what you need each and every day.

When I began work for our company, Intelligentics, back in 1994 it was unlike any job I’d ever held. No one in our company, including the founder and owner, has ever drawn a salary. Every person gets paid by the amount of time we charge clients within projects. Which means if we don’t have any clients or projects then no one gets paid. Our founder set up the business this way to mirror the spiritual principle of daily bread.

For over 30 years I have never had the simple assurance of next month’s paycheck or how much it would be.

God has always provided for our needs despite the fact that across the 30-plus years there have been months of proverbial feast and famine. Nevertheless, like the story of the loaves and fish in today’s chapter, there has always been “leftovers” in the end.

As I meditated on this simple life lesson in the quiet this morning, Holy Spirit raised within my memory one of my favorite verses in the entire Great Story. It comes from the time of the Hebrews in the wilderness as God is instructing them in their new way of life. The hard reality of slavery is that your Master has the responsibility of protecting and providing for his investment with housing and food, meager as it might be. Wandering in the wilderness is a very different reality. Freedom required faith that God would provide. And when God did provide, Moses instructed God’s people:

“When you have eaten and are satisfied, praise the Lord your God for the good land he has given you.”
Deuteronomy 8:10 (NIV)

I love the fact that Jesus not only provided a filet-o-fish feast, but Matthew was careful to record that everyone “ate and was satisfied.” Matthew the Quirk was also careful to record the numbers like the math geek he was. Five loaves and two fish feed 5,000 with twelve baskets full of leftovers (that’s one basket for every one of the twelve tribes of Hebrews wandering in the wilderness back in Deuteronomy.

Matthew was also careful to record that Jesus “broke the bread,” giving us the colloquialism that we still use today for gathering together with friends or loved ones for a meal. Jesus also “gave thanks” in anticipation of God’s provision for the “daily bread” God was about to provide. While Matthew doesn’t say it specifically, I know for certain that everyone was obediently obeying Deuteronomy 8:10 and praising God after the fish feast was over that day.

So, there’s the answer to Wendy’s question. We pray before meals because it’s the spiritual pattern God wove into our daily lives. Trust God each and every day for my daily bread. Thank Him for His provision as I break my bread. Praise Him each time I am satiated and there are leftovers.

When I begin to trust and depend on myself for my daily bread, I’ve completely lost the plot.

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!