Happy After-Easter Week!

Dear Faith Family,   

Happy Afer-Easter Week! I know that all the pre-Easter and Easter-Morning activities get all the attention, and rightly so, but the after-Easter attitudes and actions should not be passed over too quickly.

The marvelous wonder of living after Easter is that the struggle for life is over. No longer do we have to strive to attain life, nor do we have to keep it, though we will, as Psalm 143 revealed on Sunday, continue to face struggles within life. Yes, even after-Easter, there will be days and seasons where we feel the enemy's crushing closeness and the fatigue of a life pursued for ill purposes. Yet, Jesus alive means all those enemies of living, those adversaries of the soul that still kill and destroy have themselves met their better. 

Each morning after-Easter, including this morning, we wake to the sound of steadfast love showing us the way we should go, teaching us how to live well, and leading us into open space. All because Jesus died for our sin, rose from the grave that first Easter morning, and lives this and every morning speaking the same words He spoke then:

"Peace be with you."
(John 20:19, 21, 26) 

What if we believed that? I mean, really believed that peace was with us? What if you believed that your conflicts in life would not be your end? Nor will the ones you are in conflict with.

What if you believed that you are not alone, not left to wonder, not left to just figure it out on your own? But instead, what if you woke with ears open, expecting to hear steadfast love show, teach, and lead you into life whole and holy?

What all could an after-Easter life be...
if we believed?! 

We'll start answering that question together on Sunday as we enter into our resurrected rhythms of rest and work together. But in the meantime, I invite you, my friends, to believe, trusting the good news that God is for you and with you. And, to imagine a life after-Easter, a life where you "have seen the downfall of your enemies" in the forever life of Jesus with others, for Jesus alive means He has, 

"destroyed all the adversaries of my soul"
(Psalm 143:12) 

Love you, faith family! God bless.

A New Measurement of Faith

Dear Faith Family,   

Unless you grew up in a tradition that kept the prayers and celebrations of “Holy Week,” the days leading up to Easter may not have included a time of reflecting on Jesus’ last supper with His friends before His crucifixion. Well, that is what tomorrow, Maundy Thursday, marks.

The label comes from the shortened Latin word “mandatum,” which means “command” and is the root of our word “mandate.” On the night before Jesus died, He gathered his apprentices together, giving them a mandate,

“A new commandment I give to you,
that you love one another: just as I have loved you….”
(John 13:34)

Gathered around this now-sacred table, Jesus gave the disciples our regular manner of remembering His love for us in the earthy elements of bread broken for our sins and wine poured as the sign of a new covenant  (Lk. 22:19-20). It was also here that Jesus gave his friends the often overshadowed example of His love in action by washing the disciples’ feet (Jn. 13:2-17). An “example,” Jesus says, “that you also should do just as I have done to you.”

At this final pre-Easter meal, Jesus offered himself and his service not just to friends but to friends who would either betray him or abandon him or both. Jesus' love was not only selfless and sacrificial but was simple and lacked all conditions. Jesus mandates a love like His and shows us how to keep that command. 

The prayed poems of Lent, Lord willing, have cultivated in us a humble empathy with our fellow sinners and saints. Now, in these final days of remembrance, we reflect on Jesus's final meal, which encourages us to move those prayers into practice. 

So today, take a moment to read and remember Jesus' final mandatum and ask the Spirit to lead you into the humble service of your fellow saints and sinners tomorrow. 

Pray believing Jesus' love for you empowers you to fulfill His command in even the simplest of actions toward those around you. Remembering, 

"By this all people will know that you are my disciples,
if you have love for one another." (John 13:35)

Love you, faith family! God bless.

Called To The Couch

Dear Faith Family,   

Whenever a parent says, "We need to have a family talk," usually there is something weighty to discuss. Rarely does a formal family conversation get called to choose a paint color for little Billy's room or what meals will make the rotation in the coming week. On occasion, the family talk might be primarily positive, like where to go on summer vacation. But most of the time, as is our case during the season of Lent, the conversation is spurred by something or some things a bit more serious. 

First things first, the opening verses of Psalm 102 are the community calling for "a family talk."

Hear my prayer, O LORD; 
let my cry come to you! 
Do not hide your face from me; 
in the day of my distress! 
Incline your ear to me; 
answer me speedily in the day when I call! 
(Ps. 102: 1-2) 

While these verses might not sound like a dad calling everyone to the living room couch, they've been heard as such by God's people for millennia. These two verses are repeated throughout the Psalms (39:12, 54:2, 61:1, 64:4, to name a few) and are the community's way of clarifying that it's time to talk to God and one another. The verses that follow reveal the weighty nature of the conversation: death and life. 

As Chaz help us see on Sunday, verses 3-11 get the conversation started with our shared experiences of dying, those little deaths we experience as we try to make a life. The pain, unease, and loneliness we feel through the exposure of our hearts, the withering of what seems good, and letting go of that which is less than true life, while particularly felt by each, is universally shared by all of us. We are not alone in our dying. We've all--including Jesus--felt death's sting, and we get to remind each other of this truth at the moment when we need to hear it (and repeat it!) the most. 

But our family talk does not end at death; it continues on to life anew. Verses 12-22 shift the conversation to life after death. And resurrection is serious talk. Talk of God's power and his compassion. Talk of his glory in our presence and across all the world. Talk of the end of imprisonment and the beginning of real and forever freedom. We share our experience of how God is changing and freeing us so that we never forget what reality truly shapes our daily existence, that God sees us, hears us, and is for us. 

So, call a family talk this week! Make arrangements to share your dying and share of our rising with your spouse or roommate, your Gospel Community, your kids, co-worker, neighbor, or friend. Remember that such conversations take place,

for a generation to come,
so that a people yet (re)created
may praise the LORD
(Ps. 102:18) 

Love you, faith family. God bless! 

Questioning Motives

Dear Faith Family,   

Behold, you delight in truth in the inward being,
and you teach me wisdom in the secret heart.
(Psalm 51:6)

The famed scholar of the psalms, Walter Brueggemann, once wrote, "The Bible is not interested in making lists of what is acceptable, as much as it is interested in transformational intentionality."

What spurred the Old Testament Professor's comment was his observation of apparently contradictory passages in our Psalm of Lent from Sunday. The confusion begins with the psalmist's discovery of what God does and doesn't want from us—which is something we all want to know, right! 

For you will not delight in offerings to make peace, or I would give it;
you will not be pleased with sacrifices, efforts, to atone. 
The sacrifices of God are a broken and contrite spirit;
a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. 
(Psalm 51:16-17) 

So, according to the psalmist, God is not so much interested in our ritual and religious acts done to make restorations for our sin or pacify His frustration with us. Instead, God wants only a spirit and heart that breaks when our relationship with him is askew. Great! God doesn't want me to do all those "religious" things prescribed to us—sacrifices like abstaining from particulars during Lent, offerings of time and resources, going to church, daily prayers, reading my bible, etc. What He really wants is for me to take our relationship seriously so that when I offend it, I feel the pain of wounding a loved one. 

This passage is quite modern! It checks all the boxes of generations moving away from religious structures. Here, it seems, is no religion, just a relationship. But then the psalm continues and seems to contradict itself. 

Do good in Zion in your good pleasure; 
build up the walls of Jerusalem; 
then will you delight in right sacrifices, 
in [peace] offerings and whole atonement offerings; 
then bulls will be offered on your altar.
(Psalm 51:18-19)

Wait a minute. I thought the psalmist said God will not delight in sacrifices and offerings? Yet here, the Psalm seems to say that God does delight in sacrifice and offerings—even adding more ritual examples of what God finds acceptable! So, which is it? Does God want me to do "religious" things or not? 

It is easy in a season like Lent, where we are invited to do more "religious" things like fasting weekly, praying the Examen regularly, entering into Lectio Divina rhythmically, etc., to lose sight of why we are doing these things.

Perhaps we think that in doing them—or any number of "Christian" activities—God will be pleased with us. And God's pleasure, after all, leads to the good things we are after in life, whether spiritually, emotionally, or even physically. Or maybe, subconsciously, we do them because we hope that doing so makes us a little better. Maybe even making up for some of the ways in which we are not who we want to be.  

Here, just as we begin the final leg of our pilgrimage, the psalmist leads us to consider the intentionality or motivation of our efforts with God. The psalm's end is not to get us to ask, "What does God want?" but rather, "Why am I doing what I'm doing?"  

The life we after through Lent—a favored life, forgiven, clean, whole, and new—is given to us, being formed within us. That's what verses 6-12 of Psalm 51 testify. God delights in the wholeness of our life in Him and in showing us how to live wisely (v.6). He has, is, and will purge, clean, wash (v.7), open ears to gladness, mend bones to dance (v. 8), not go hunting for sins but rather blot out iniquities (v.9), create a clean heart, renew a steadfast spirit (v. 10), not remove His presence but fill with His Spirit (v.11), restore joy, and exuberantly uphold life (v. 12). After such a list, what is there left for us to do?! 

Our "sacrifices" and "offerings" during the Lenten season, or any season, are not efforts to earn favor or make amends. Jesus has already done that for us. The intention of our "religious" practices has been transformed at the depth of our inability to truly live (v. 3-5). As we meditated on Sunday, the truth is that we are utterly unable to sustain life apart from God’s covenantal compassion (v. 1-2). No attempt on our end to make peace or cover our sin will suffice. No, we do the things we do during Lent, and the life between Lents, because we desire to daily live more and more in sync with His goodness, purpose, and presence. Life as people who know and are known for the truth of who and Whose we are (v. 13-15).

So, faith family, let us take a moment to consider your motives, your intentions during this journey through the Lenten season. Freed from attempting to do what only God can do (and has done!), may our practices do what they are meant to: help us walk in step with the Way so that others might do the same. 

Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and uphold me with a willing spirit.
Then I will teach transgressors your ways,
and sinners will return to you.
(Psalm 51:12-13)

Love you, faith family! God bless.

Something To Complain About

Dear Faith Family,  

 

"...your arrows have sunk into me, and your hand has come down on me. There is no soundness in my flesh because of your indignation..." 
(Psalm 38:2-3)

One of my biggest pet peeves is complaining, probably because I do so much of it myself! No matter the number of positive affirmations or the consistency of daily graces, my heart is prone to hone in on the difficulties of a day, a relationship, or a task. Whether the discomfort is slight or stiffening, a self-inflicted obstacle or an external impediment, I sometimes feel the psalm from Sunday is true, "my life is a vomit of groans" (Psalm 38:8). And frankly, I hate living that way. 

No one likes being around a complainer, not even the complainer themselves, yet Psalm 38 is known as a "Complaint Psalm." It is a poetic prayer that lets God in on all the difficulties of the day/life/world manifesting in our hearts. And while you'd be right to think God doesn't need to be "let in" to know of such realities, our faith heritage for thousands and thousands of years has taught us that God desires us to share with him what he already knows:

My child, give me your heart, and let your eyes delight in my ways.
(Proverbs 23:26)

Psalm 38, like the other "Complaint Psalms," teaches us that now, especially in the season of Lent, is the time to complain. And while my inner voice wants to fire back, "Stop complaining!" the Spirit says, "Don't hold back." Because, as Lent is catechizing us to know, we must enter the depths to rise to the light. 

When we complain to God, we are saying that we are finished, that we are done with this life as we experience it. Indeed, our complaint declares that we are done with the same old situations, the same old possibilities, the same old false fixes, the same old defenses and pretenses, essentially saying, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!" And so our complaint becomes our confession (perhaps for the first time) that we are utterly in need of something new, something that can only be received. 

For in you, God, I hope...my God—you will answer!... Hurry and help me; I want some wide-open space in my life!
(Psalm 38:15,22)

When we complain at people, spilling our vomit of groans into their laps, we usually leave a mess. When we complain to people, our vulnerable confessions of feelings can be an admittance of being done with the old and longing for something different. Still, in the complexity of relationships, our complaints may not be received as a step towards something new but yet another form of opposition. However, whenever we open our hearts to God, going with Him into the depths of our hearts, there is an ever-consistent response: I hear...I see...I know...and I, too, want more for you: 

Look at me. I stand at the door. I knock. If you hear me call and open the door, I'll come right in and sit down to supper with you.
(Revelation 3:20)

So, go ahead and complain! May your complaining to God lead you to the table prepared for you, even in the presence of those things which compel our complaining. 

Love you, faith family! God bless. 

A Tough, But Necessary, Turn

Dear Faith Family,  

 

"Transgression speaks to the wicked deep in his heart...For he flatters himself in his own eyes that his iniquity cannot be found out and hated." 
(Psalm 36:1-2)

The first turn in our Lenten journey, as we discovered on Sunday in Psalm 32, is a tough one. We round the corner and find that we are face-to-face with...ourselves. And not the prepared-for-the-day, dolled-up, slicked-out "Insta" self, but the self we'd prefer never garner anyone's attention. 

Whether out of shame or self-righteousness, because we are too distracted to look, or too wounded, too angry, too entitled, or too overwhelmed; when life feels painful or off, our instinct is to wrestle with the people, circumstances, and forces around us before facing ourself. The first of our Psalms of Lent, Psalm 6, assumed that this would be our initial response and, without condemnation of any sort, invited us to open up about our wrestles. 

Perhaps the only way to prepare for the inward turn of Psalm 32 is to know that God is for us, overcoming all that is opposed to our life whole and forever, 

My requests have all been granted, my prayers are answered. Cowards, my enemies disappear. Disgraced, they turn tail and run. (Psalm 6:9-10)

Knowing God's got all the "stuff" around us covered, we can be open and honest with ourselves and our contributions to the fractures we feel. 

Then I let it all out; I said, 'I’ll come clean about my failures to God.' Suddenly, the pressure was gone—my guilt dissolved, and my sin disappeared. (Psalm 32:5)

The journey of Lent leads us straight into the truth, "If we claim that we’re free of sin, we’re only fooling ourselves" (1 John 1:8). And Lent's sure and scheduled end at Good Friday and Easter Sunday remind us that there is no more secure place to be, than being utterly vulnerable before God and with one another,

But if we walk in the light, God himself being the light, we also experience a shared life with one another, as the sacrificed blood of Jesus, God’s Son,
cleanses all our sin. (1 John 1:7)

As you (and me) pray Psalm 32 this week, may the Spirit lead us into honest, open, and transforming fellowship, even with those we wrestle with. 

Love you, faith family! God bless.


P.S. 
Tomorrow, March 20th, is our faith famiy's 12th anniversary!

It seems like only yesterday Christ City Church was just a dream, a dream of people sharing life together in Jesus, encouraging one another as we follow Him through the ups and downs or ordinary life. What a privilege and grace to have lived out a dream with you! 

"Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than we ask or think, according to the power at work with us, to him be the glory in [Christ City] church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen." (Ephesians 3:20-21)

Mapping the Movement

Dear Faith Family,  

 

"O LORD, rebuke me not in your anger, nor discipline me in your wrath...The LORD has heard my plea; the LORD accepts my prayer." 
(Psalm 6:1,9)

For our journey of Lent to be effective and a movement that transforms, honesty is required: an honest assessment of our situation. 

Like the treed publican, the brother in the squalor of his squandering, as well as the brother embittered by his entitlement; what keeps us out of the community, out of the party, on the outside of the full and forever now, is our own sins. We confessed such together last week and in the previous few Sundays: 

We confess to you and to another, and to the
whole communion of saints in heaven and on earth,
that we have sinned by our own fault
in thought, word, and deed;
by what we have done,
and by what we have left undone. 

(The Litany of Penitence) 

We will not travel far in Lent if we are unwilling to look honestly at our hearts and actions, attitudes, relationships, and affections...making an honest assessment of the situation. After all, as Augustine so pointedly reminds us, 

"Let us know you, O you who know me; then shall I know even as I am known...[For] the abyss of the human conscience lies naked to your eyes, O Lord, so would anything in me be secret even if I were unwilling to confess to you? I would be hiding you from myself, but not myself from you." 

The stories leading to Lent prepared us for this, our honest confession: a self-revelation in relationship. Ensuring us that the one who knows us--who sees us treed and in danger of our sins just compensation, humiliated in our squandering what's been gifted us, and bitter in our overestimated efforts--nevertheless invites us to share all that is his. Knowing we are seen and safe in what is seen, we need not fear the confession.

Yet, as the first of the Psalms of Lent begins, when we see ourselves honestly, we feel the weight of our situation acutely, "O LORD, rebuke me not...nor discipline me..." (6:1). The pslamist takes up where we left out last week, confessing to his contribution to his situation and the just compensation for all that is opposed to Life Himself. What else brings God's wrath, his anger, but that which takes what was made "very good" and twists it unto death? 

But notice the psalmist's confession is wrapped in a petition, in a prayer, in a plea. A plea for mercy (v.1), followed by a plea for grace (v. 2), then a plea for restoration (v. 3), and ultimately a plea for life to continue on the other side of death (vs. 4-5), for death not to be our end, but the end of what has led to it. 

As we discovered on Sunday, Psalm 6 maps out our Lenten journey. A journey that begins with an honest plea leading to a humble admission (vs. 6-7)  and culminating in a hope-filled profession (vs. 8-10).

While the psalm lays out the movement of the Lenten road ahead, it also provides us with our souls' daily/weekly movement along the way. It is that movement I want to invite us into today. 

Knowing that wherever you are today (in heart, in mind, in body) there is no need to hide, so take a few moments to make the Lenten journey: 

• An Honest Plea: Lord, have mercy on me, for I am a sinner. 

• A Humble Admission: I'm exhausted by my sin. I do not have enough strength or sight to overcome this. 

• A Hope-Filled Profession: You have heard and accepted my plea...and acted to save me through death into life. 

"I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live, I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me." (Galatians 2:20)

Love you, faith family. God bless! 

And The Journey Begins!

Dear Faith Family,   

"Truly, truly I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit."
(John 12:24)

For much of the global Church, today marks the beginning of the season of Lent. A season in which we fall with Jesus into death and rise with Jesus into life again and new. 

The first day of this journey of bright sadness is marked as Ash Wednesday. On this day, many traditions within the Church gather to consecrate themselves for the road ahead and the Lenten Rhythms by imposing ashes. The ashes remind us that we have our origin in dust, and from dust, we will return, by the absurd and gracious gift of Jesus' life, to a life full and forever. Ashes may be our end, but they are not the end. 

While it is not our tradition to impose ashes, it is our tradition to join with the saints around the world on this day, praying the "Litany of Penitence" as our first steps toward the grave and abundant life. We start our journey of Lent by sharing our need for God's grace and receiving grace upon grace in Jesus. 

Pray with and as the Church:

Most holy and merciful Father:
We confess to you and to one another, 
and to the whole communion of saints in heaven and on earth, 
that we have sinned by our own fault 
in thought, word, and deed; 
by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. 

We have not loved you with our whole heart, nor mind, nor strength. We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We have not forgiven others, as we have been forgiven. 
Have mercy on us, gracious Father. 

We have been deaf to your call to serve, as Jesus served us.
We have not been true to the mind of Christ.
We have grieved your Holy Spirit. 
Have mercy on us, compassionate Father. 

We confess to you, Father, all our past unfaithfulness:
the pride, hypocrisy, and impatience of our lives. 
We confess to you, humble Father. 

Our self-indulgent appetites and ways,
and our exploitation of other people, 
We confess to you, self-giving Father. 

Our anger at our own frustration,
and our envy of those more fortunate than ourselves, 
We confess to you, generous Father. 

Our intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts,
and our dishonesty in daily life and work, 
We confess to you, just Father. 

Our negligence in prayer and worship,
and our failure to commend the faith that is in us, 
We confess to you, patient Father. 

We turn to you, Father, and away from the wrongs we have done: acknowledging our blindness to human need and suffering,
and our indifference to injustice and cruelty, 
We hold fast to you, always-present Father. 

Acknowledging false judgments, uncharitable thoughts toward our neighbors, and prejudice and contempt toward those who are different from us, 
We turn to you, ever-chasing Father. 

Acknowledging our waste and pollution of your creation,
and our lack of concern for those who come after us, 
We hold fast to you, never-changing Father.

Restore us, good Father, and let your anger depart from us; 
Favorably hear us, for your mercy is great. 

Bring to maturity the fruit of your salvation, 
That we may show forth your glory in the world. 

By the cross and passion of your Son our King and Friend, 
Bring us with all your saints into
the complete joy of his resurrection. 

Amen. 

Love you, faith family. God bless! 

Best To Be Prepared

Dear Faith Family,   

"The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, but whoever loves less his life in this world will keep it for eternal life."
(John 12:23-25)

These are the words Jesus spoke not long after having transformed death into life eternal through the raising of Lazarus (John 11:1-44). Words spoken by Jesus after the crowds had sung their "Hosanna!" at his prophetic and meek arrival (John 12:12-18), but before they shouted "Crucify, crucify him!" (Luke 23:21). 

In other words, these words were spoken by Jesus on his way to the cross, to the paradoxically named "Good Friday," before those time-altering events of Easter morning. Words spoken by Jesus to those who had come a long way, "some Greeks" (John 12:20) to see him. Words spoken in preface not only to Jesus' death but first, to an invitation to follow where he was going: 

"If anyone serves me, he must follow me; and where I am, there will my servant be also." (John 12:26) 

For most of the Western Church worldwide, the season of Lent begins a week from today. Lent is a journey of "bright sadness" that involves following Jesus to and through the cross, into the tomb, and up again into life eternal.

The spiritual journey of Lent is a downward movement, a choice to take Jesus up on his invitation to die with him, to let his death be our death so that we also might take up his life. "Great Lent," as one Orthodox scholar contends, "is a school of repentance to which every Christian must go every year," allowing us to experience (enter) the reality that "Death is no more! Christ is risen, and life reigns! Christ is risen, and not one dead remains in the grave!" [1]

Yet, before we embark on such a journey, it would be wise of us to prepare. To ready our hearts, minds, souls, and wills for the days ahead through the words of Jesus spoken just before he entered Jerusalem on a donkey. Words spoken, as Jesus "was passing through" another biblically significant city, 

"He entered Jericho and was passing through. And there was a man named Zacchaeus. He was a chief tax collector and was rich." (Luke 19:1-2)

We probably all know the story of Zacchaeus, that "wee-little man" who "climbed up into the sycamore tree, for the Lord he wanted to see," only to be told by Jesus, "Zacchaeus, you come down, for I am going to your house today." Good luck getting that song out of your head now! 

Ironically enough, the final words of the Sunday School song were always sung with the teacher wagging their finger as if Jesus was scolding some overly energetic child who had ventured into the disobedient act of scaling the forbidden wood. I say ironic because, as we were reminded on Sunday, Jesus is actually the only one in the story who doesn't rebuke Zaachaeus but instead takes on the rebuke for him. 

"And when they [the crowd who'd moments before had been jeering at the treed traitor] saw it [Jesus rebuke-less rescue of Zacchaeus], they all grumbled [about Jesus], 'He has gone in to be the guest of a man who is a sinner."
(Luke 19:7) 

In order for us not to get lost in Lent--lost through self-condemnation or self-righteousness or self-saving--we need to see the Jesus Zacchaeus saw that day. Jesus who sees us exposed, vulnerable, and condemned and who trades our condemnation for his. 

In order for the journey of Lent not to be just another ritual or new tradition but truly a journey through death to life whole and forever, today, we also need to be more like Zacchaeus, willing to give up our life to see Jesus and as a response to what Jesus has done and continues to do when we are facing the consequences of our sin. 

So, my friends, this week, let us prepare our hearts, minds, souls, and wills for the days ahead by meditating on a familiar story anew. May we be strengthened and sobered by humility, our own and Jesus'. 

Love you, faith family. God bless! 

Not The Path We'd Choose

Dear Faith Family,   

"Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I go to awaken him." 
(John 11:11)

Knowing how the story ends sometimes keeps us from epiphany in the middle. Like with the famed Psalm 23. With the Lord as our shepherd, we know we'll end up beside "waters of rest" as we're led on "right paths" to "dwell in the house of the Lord forever." And while we may not ignore the fact that the "right path" takes us straight "through the valley of the shadow of death," we certainly don't choose to dwell there. 

Perhaps because we naturally (and rightly!) seek and expect relief and comfort, rescue, and consolation from the Lord, we are prone to ponder their apparent fulfillment in both the Psalm and the nearly as famed story of Lazarus. Yet, as we discussed on Sunday, it is not the end of the story that provides the "awe ha." Instead, the revelation is found right smack in the middle. 

You might think it odd to connect Psalm 23 and the story of the death and resurrection of Lazarus, but that is what John does in his Gospel. In John 10, Jesus reveals himself to be "the good shepherd" who knows and lays down his life for his sheep (10:10-18). Not long after this, one of his own, Lazarus, whom Jesus loved (11:3,5), falls ill (11:1). 

What a chance this is for Jesus, the Good Shepherd, to demonstrate just how good he truly is by coming to the aid of his dear and needy friend. Instead, Jesus, the one who does what no "hired hand" would do nor worthwhile shepherd could do, "stayed two days longer in the place where he was" before making his way to Bethany (11:6).

Don't you find it interesting, especially knowing how the story ends, just as Jesus apparently did (see 11:4), that he doesn't rescue his friends from the pain and suffering of death on the front end? It's not like Jesus needed to prove his power. After all, bringing people back from the dead isn't something new for Jesus (see Mark 5:21-43 & Luke 7:11-17), nor was healing them from a distance (John 4:46-54). So why another object lesson? Especially when Jesus' own resurrection just a few weeks later will make Lazarus' seem redundant? 

Perhaps Jesus, as he does in each of his "I AM" statements, desires to reveal something more than a literal interpretation. Perhaps, Jesus is offering more than mere comfort to his faith-filled, grieving in hope friend when he says to her and us,

"I AM the resurrection and the life.
Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live,
and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die."
(11:25-26)

Perhaps, like the psalmist, Jesus is revealing that the "right path" doesn't take us around death--whether physical (we all know that!), nor spiritual, emotional, circumstantial, relational, vocational, aspirational, etc.--but rather through death to life eternal now, and always:

"The Prince of life is ever the conqueror of death [all the "little deaths" too]. Not only is he this by and by in the resurrection on the last day;
he is this always.[1]

Jesus does something to death, not just at the end, but in all the ways death makes its way into our living in the middle. Jesus does something through death, especially for his "friends." He transforms death from an end, from a "deep darkness" casting its shadows over life, to a sleep from which we are awakened into a new day. 

"Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I go to awaken him." 
(John 11:11)

This does not mean the deaths between the story's end are easy or joyful. After all, "Jesus wept" (11:35) with those mourning even when they were about to experience resurrection and life. But it does mean that Jesus' presence to us in the laments of living provides more than comfort, but life through death. Making death something utterly different than we expect, almost like what we think of as death, is never something we actually taste. 

"Do you believe me?" (11:26) Jesus still asks this question. How will you and we answer him? 

My prayer is that our answer will sound a lot like Martha's amid the shadow of death (11:27), 

"Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world..." into my world, to raise life through death. 

Love you, faith family. God bless. 

Entangling Imagery

Dear Faith Family,   

"This figure of speech [allegory] Jesus used with them,
but they did not understand what he was saying to them." 
(John 10:6)

If you have ever wanted for clarity after reading Jesus's words, you're not alone! Whether read or heard, Jesus's words often require time and reflection, what the psalmist calls meditation, to unravel in our minds and unravel our hearts. 

Sometimes, Jesus helps start the unraveling by pulling back the layers as he does with the Parable of the Sower in Matthew's gospel (13:1-30). Other times, as in the case of Jesus' "wayside saying" or allegory in John's gospel (10:1-9), rather than unraveling the mystery, Jesus' elaboration invites us to get more entangled in its imagery and its context. 

When we think of Jesus's imagery in John 10, the image of "the Good Shepherd" (10:11) first comes to mind. Open your Bible, and you'll probably find this image as the section title for the entire chapter. Jesus being the Good Shepherd is of great significance for our life of faith, so it is no wonder it is featured so promately. Still, the image Jesus uses leading up to the famed description also significantly influences how we live our lives of faith in Him with others. 

As we discussed on Sunday, the image of a "sheepfold" with a singular "door" or gate into which sheep of multiple flocks are led for set periods to receive care, comfort, and protection and led out again into their daily life in the pasture by recognizable shepherds (10:1-5), is an image of Church. So, when Jesus expands on his depiction in verses 7-9, he invites us to see His role in bringing us together and our responsibility to one another, whether sheep or sheepy shepherds. 

So Jesus again said to them, 'Truly, truly, I say to you, I AM the door of the sheep.
All who came before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. 
I AM the door. If anyone enters by me, he will be saved and will go in and out and find pasture.
(John 10:7-9)

Jesus is our way into life together ("the sheepfold") and into life itself (the "pasture"). As we all know, we need trusted others to accompany us and lead us into rest and work as we follow the Good Shepherd. In some ways, that is the very definition of the Church: those gathered together through Jesus, walking together as they follow Jesus into everyday life. 

In this life together, we need trusted others, both approved shepherds to whom "the gatekeeper opens" (10:3) and other sheep who have been around long enough to distinguish the motives and voices of those calling us to follow. As Jesus tells us, it is inside the sheepfold where we'll encounter those who want something from the sheep, not something for them ("thieves and robbers"). Likewise, along the way of living, we'll run into "strangers," ones whose intentions we don't immediately recognize. Because this is the reality of our life as the Church, God's gathered flock, the implication is that we should be discerning sheep. In fact, Jesus presumes that we can and will be, 

"A stranger they will not follow...the sheep did not listen to them [thieves and robbers]."
(John 10:5,8) 

Perhaps unlike any time in history, we sheep of Jesus' flock are bombarded by a cacophony of voices vying for us to follow them. Are we discerning? Do we recognize how they come into our lives and our life together? Is it through Jesus, his words, his ways, his Spirit? Do we know them and what they want for us, or if they only want something from us? Can we see where they are going because they have walked with us and are walking the Way before us? 

Jesus presumes that together, we'll be able to recognize who leads us through Him and who doesn't. So, what voices are you following and encouraging your fellow sheep to follow or flee from? 

"...blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears for they hear."

(Matthew 13:16)

Love you, faith family! God bless. 

I AM Inevitable

Dear Faith Family,   

"By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples." (John 15:8)

"Prove yourself by producing something that brings glory to God; the more, the better the proof and greater the glory." If read this way, Jesus' words sound like a sad summation of American Evangelicalism: prove and produce. However, if we read Jesus' exhortation in this manner, we'd also miss both the heart and the truth of Jesus' finale metaphor. 

What Jesus says before and after verse 8 matters what verse 8 means for you and me. 

"I AM the true vine, and my Father is the vinedressor...you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing...

You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that  you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you."
(John 15:1, 5, 16)

Indeed, the expectation and demarcation of our faith are that more life, more life full and forever, would be the product of our daily living. However, the end and the means are the same: abiding. 

Notice that abiding goes two ways. We abide in Jesus, "abide in me....Abide in my love" (15:7,9), but only because we are doing what Jesus does, "my words abide in you...I...abide in [my Father's] love" (15:7,10). And, isn't doing what we see our Master doing the very definition of being a "disciple" or apprentice? 

So, it seems that abiding is an unavoidable activity of who we, Jesus' followers, are. And, it seems, abiding is also the assured means of producing that coveted fruit, 

"As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me." (John 15:4) 

Verse 8, it seems, is not the exhortation by which we set our life of faith, but rather Jesus' revelation of the inevitability of living as ones whose faith knows Jesus to be the source of life and the light of life, empowering us to know the Way of life. "By this" abiding, then, we bring glory to the Father because it is in this mutual abiding--us in Jesus, Jesus in us--that produces a life that lasts, life like Jesus'. 

So, verse 8 should not leave us asking how we prove our faith through production. That question is already answered: abide. But the question we should be asking is how we abide. 

Abide means to "remain," to "endure," to "continue," to "stay," or to "settle," making a home, a life in Jesus as he makes life in and through us. And, as we unpacked on Sunday, we abide by praying and loving like Jesus.

Before you dismiss that last line as just another church truism with no practical benefit, think briefly about what it means to make a life in Jesus through prayer. More specifically, to Jesus' words in John's gospel, letting the Father's glory (his distinct splendor and beauty) lead us into and through our daily prayers. After all, that is how Jesus taught us to pray:

"Pray then like this: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, you will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." (Matthew 6:9-10)

It's not where our prayers end (i.e., "In Jesus' name we pray") but where they begin and to what end they seek that helps us abide.

Likewise, while loving like Jesus can often become so generalized or spiritualized that it fails to lead to much of anything other than sentiment, Jesus was sure not to be so ambiguous with his apprenticed companions, 

"This is my commandment that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you." (John 15:12-14)

Friendship. We love like Jesus by opening our lives with the Father to others (v. 15) and giving ourselves to others in friendship, even those who would not choose us as friends (v. 16). While we can generalize a love for all, we all know what it takes to be a true friend and truly befriended. 

How do we abide, and so experience life that lasts? We seek the glory of the Father into prayer as we build loving friendships. Can you imagine what would be produced if we truly lived this way?! 


Love you, faith family! God bless. 

Trusting What You Know

Dear Faith Family,   

"And you know the way to where I am going."
(John 14:4)

Those are the words of Jesus to his gathered friends the night before his body would be broken for our sins, and his blood poured out, making way for Life to fill us. Words that, as we discussed on Sunday, seem to come from a place of trust, not the disciples trusting of Jesus, but Jesus' trust of his apprentices. 

Admittedly, trusting that Jesus trusts us, that indeed, trusting that he is our source of life and the light of life empowers us to know the Way of life, is not always easy. After all, like Thomas, we know the limits of our knowledge and have doubts about ourselves, 

Thomas said to him, 'Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?' (John 14:5) 

It's a good thing for us that knowing the Way isn't left up to just you. As Jesus would tell his friends, Jesus' going to prepare for us life eternal (Jn. 14:1-3), our end, and the means to the end (Jn. 14:19-21), doesn't leave us orphaned and alone, but with both the "Helper...the Spirit of truth, whom...dwells with you and will be in you" (John 14:16-17) and all those included in that "you." 

Why does Jesus trust us? Because he has not left us alone, but given us the, 

"...the Helper, the Holy Spirit whom...will teach you all things and bring to your mind remembrance of all that I have said to you." (John 14:26)

"You," who know the way, have the Spirit to remind you of the Way, helping you discover and discern all that is necessary to live life full and forever. I think we know that, even if we have plenty of room to grow in our "walking by the Spirit" (Gal. 5:16). 

It's those other "yous" that we, at least we in our individualistic society and faith culture, often neglect. The "you" in Jesus' opening words, as well as all the "yous" that follow in Jesus' farewell discourse, are plural. It is the you of fellow apprentices and pilgrims—those who, alongside you-you, are following the Way in life. 

Why does Jesus trust us? Because he leaves us in Gospel Community, walking through life with sisters and brothers who encourage us as we encourage them to hold fast to the truth we know and who we truly are, even when we doubt. The Spirit in you-- in all the yous in life together who know the Way. 

So, my friends, You know the way, 

Therefore, brothers and sisters...have confidence to enter the holy places
by the blood of Jesus...the new and living way...
through his flesh...draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith...
and...hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering...
And...consider how to stir up one another to love and good works,
not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some,
but encouraging one another...all the more... (Hebrews 10:19-25)

Love you, faith family! God bless. 

It's Not What We Say, But What He Reveals

Dear Faith Family,   

"my testimony is true,
for I know where I came from and where I am going..."
(John 8:14)

Who am I? What am I made for? Every philosophy, populace, religion, and culture has asked and answered these questions to varying degrees. And not just once, but over and over again, as one generation fades and interactions with the world contain as many, if not more, differences than similarities. 

Who am I? What am I made for? These questions have untied us in our humanity across space and time. They are questions we share in the diversity of our daily existence with everyone, everywhere—well, almost everyone.

While Jesus, in his humanity, shares many things with us, he does not share our existential angst. He is neither confused nor wondering about his person or place. He knows perfectly who he is and where he is going. While, as we said last week, our lives are sustained by what Jesus shares with us, it's actually good news for you and me that Jesus is different in this particular way. 

Only because Jesus perfectly knows as he is perfectly known can he be what he proclaims, 

"I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in the darkness, but will have the light of life." (John 8:12) 

The good news for you and me is that we don't have to know; only be known. And, in our being known, in our making ourselves at home in what the light reveals, we

"...will know the truth and the truth will set us free." (John 8:32)

As we shared on Sunday, it is not so much how we answer those universal questions that matter. In fact, it seems that we are as often as not poor judges of others as well as ourselves (see John 8:14-59). What matters for you and us as a faith family is what Jesus knows about our condition, "you will die in your sin" (John 8:21) and what Jesus does about it, 

"...if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." (John 8:36) 

So, how do we make our home in his word, apprenticing ourselves to his life (John 8:31)? Well, we open ourselves to what he reveals through an old faith practice called confession.

The word confess comes from the combination of two Latin words: cum, alongside, and fessio, to divulge or speak truth that would otherwise remain hidden. Confession is a relational practice; with Christ, the light of the world and life alongside us, we speak the truth of what comes to light, both our sins and his grace.

Because what matters is what Jesus knows about us, our condition and our destiny, our entanglements, "everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin" (John 8:34), and what we are made for, we can pray, 

"Let me know you, O you who know me;
then shall I know even as I am known…
the abyss of the human conscience lies naked to your eyes,
O Lord, so would anything in me be secret
even if I were unwilling to confess to you?
I would be hiding you from myself,
but not myself from you…" (Augustine)

Let us not hide Jesus from us, faith family, but rather, make our life in the light, for He is the light of life, and in Him we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus cleanses us from all sin (1 John 1:7). 


Love you, faith family! God bless. 

Do Something Different

Dear Faith Family,   

"Truly, truly, I say to you, you are seeking me,
not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of loaves."
(John 6:26)

There is something satisfying about the Christmas season and the days of building anticipation that precedes. Even if things don't go exactly as planned or are accompanied by grief, the mere fact and sheer amount of pondering and praising the gift of God with us and for us, echoed in the affectionate wrappings under trees and in stockings, leaves us full.

Similar to those receiving the multiplied abundance from Jesus in John 6, for a moment, whether lingering or quickly passing, "you ate your fill" of the season's abundance.

And, similar to the multitudes in John's gospel, the satisfaction of a full belly, somewhat ironically, compelled us to want more, to desire again what sooner or later dissipates. And so, we go seeking, laboring, and resolving to experience again the fullness, the satisfaction of life, good. 

I don't know about you, but I've often heard Jesus' words to the once satisfied and still hungering crowd as a rebuke of their shallow appetites, especially in light of Jesus' follow-up statement: 

"Do not labor for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you." (John 6:27)

Yet, as I shared on Sunday, I no longer hear Jesus' words as rebuke but instead as revelation. Jesus is enlightening the crowd, and those of us similar to them, to the fact that our hunger for what is filling drives us. More than our observational acuity, "not because you saw signs" of the Kingdom, the desire for a satisfying life leads us, not just through life, but to Life Himself (Jn. 1:4-5), which is a good thing! 

Think about it. That basic drive to satisfy your hunger is a God-crafted means not only of your physical and temporal survival but of life full and forever, i.e., eternal. What you long for leads you to the One who can give you what you desire. But, there is more to this epiphany.

While your desire for life compels you to seek Jesus, Jesus offers you more than you could ever find in your resolute labors. Jesus offers you something that is more, "food that endures," that ever-satisfies, not just momentarily fills. 

"I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst." (John 6:35) 

As we begin a year anew, hungering for life, good; willing to labor for that which might satisfy or once before has satisfied, and making plans to do so, might we do something different. Instead of making resolutions, even good ones, might we begin the year feasting on Jesus, "the bread of life...the living bread" given "for the life of the world," including our life. 

Daily, coming to Jesus, believing in Jesus with and for one another, the Church in our city, and the souls of our city are the goals of TRUE BREAD, which is our commitment to 21 days of prayer and fasting. Will you join us? 

Regardless, do something different this new year. Let the longing that drives you into labor to satisfy you draw you to a place where you can receive the satisfaction you seek. 

"Let them thank the LORD for his steadfast love,
for his wondrous works to the children of man!
For he satisfies the longing soul,
and the hungry soul he fills with good things."
(Psalm 107:8-9) 

Love you, faith family! God bless. 

Ring Out The Old...Ring In The New!

Dear Faith Family,   

We've nearly made it! In just a few hours, it will be the first day of a new year. And then it will be time to turn the calendar for 2025 will officially be here!

And yet, as is often the case, the calendar's turning is no guarantee that change is coming or for good. Indeed, many wondrous and beautiful things in the year behind us were worth celebrating and praising. Still, we cannot deny that there has also been loss, sickness, strife, and all the ills plaguing our human condition. I suspect the same can be said for many past years and will be repeated in years ahead.

So what are we to do? Well, as the themes of Advent prepared us, and the prayers of the Christmas Season are encouraging us to wonder within, we are to live through hope, within peace, in joy because of the transforming reality of Love made manifest among us for our forever good. 

So, with humble confidence and empowered courage, we can ring out the old that is passing away and ring in the new that will be forever. 

And so, that is what we will do: ring out the old and ring in the new! And will do so through what has become a tradition for our faith family, praying together this poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson. A poem that can be prayed over and over until the new that is Christ in us, through us, and for us and neighbor is all that is left. 

Love you, faith family! Happy New Year, and God bless. 

In Memoriam CVI | Alfred Lord Tennyson

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, 
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night; 
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. 

Ring out the old, ring in the new, 
Ring, happy bells, across the snow: 
The year is going, let him go; 
Ring out the false, ring in the true. 

Ring out the grief that saps the mind
For those that here we see no more; 
Ring out the feud of rich and poor, 
Ring in redress to all mankind. 

Ring out a slowly dying cause, 
And ancient forms of party strife; 
Ring in the nobler modes of life, 
With sweeter manners, purer laws. 

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times; 
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes 
But ring the fuller minstrel in. 

Ring out false pride in place and blood, 
The civic slander and the spite; 
Ring in the love of truth and right, 
Ring in the common love of good. 

Ring out old shapes of foul disease; 
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; 
Ring out the thousand wars of old; 
Ring in the thousand years of peace. 

Ring in the valiant man and free, 
The larger heart, the kindlier hand; 
Ring out the darkness of the land, 
Ring in the Christ that is to be. 

Merry (First Day of) Christmas!

Dear Faith Family,   

I hope you are having a truly wonderful day, this first day of Christmas! That's right; today is just the start, the beginning of "counting up" the abundance of what our True Love gives. On Christmas day, we begin unwrapping all those gifts for which we spent the previous days "counting down" their arrival. Gifts that add up exponentially, from 1 to 78 in just twelve days! 

If you haven't picked up on my less-than-subtle clues, what I'm saying is that we've entered the "Twelve Days of Christmas." That's right, the twelve days start today, on Christmas Day! 

The process of connecting the feast of Christmas (December 25th) to the feast of Epiphany (January 6th) began in the fourth century, and eventually, all the days between the two special days on the church calendar were "proclaimed sacred and festive." That means the celebration doesn't stop after the presents are opened and all the food is safely tucked away in our bellies! 

While culturally, in the words of Gabe Huck, "We take our Christmas with lots of sugar. And we take it in a day," the Church over the last fifteen-hundred-plus years has extended the holiday well into the New Year! Christmas really is a beginning! 

So why not join in?! Why not keep your tree and decorations up a bit longer, until the end of the twelve days, January 6th? Why not plan a couple more special activities with friends, family, and kids? Why not keep the Christmas carols ringing and Christmas prayers praying for a few more days? 

That last one, keeping the Christmas prayers praying, I can help you with! 

Starting with the sonnet below, I'll share a poem to pray each of the Twelve Days of Christmas via our Collective Prayers. 

You might recognize the poems. They are responses to our Advent O Antiphons. Now, rather than praying with longing for what we need, we pray with (for) the perfection of what we've received.

I won't send a push notification every day, but just a few times to remind you to extend the holiday! After all, as Bobby Gross contends, "If Advent is a season of waiting, Christmas is a season of wonder"! 

May our wonder grow exponentially as we take the time to behold the ever-expanding gift of this Christmas Day and are drawn into His marvelous mystery! 

Love you, faith family! And looking forward to worshiping together in the New Year*! Until then, God bless! 

O Sapientia | Malcolm Guite 

I cannot think unless I have been thought, 
Nor can I speak unless I have been spoken; 
I cannot teach except as I am taught, 
Or break the bread except as I am broken. 
O Mind behind the mind through which I seek, 
O Light within the light by which I see, 
O Word beneath the words with which I speak, 
O founding, unfound Wisdom, finding me, 
O sounding Song whose depth is sounding me, 
O Memory of time, reminding me, 
My Ground of Being, always grounding me, 
My Maker's bounding line, defining me: 
You've Come, hidden Wisdom, come with all you bring, 
You've Come to me now, disguised as everything. 

Slow Down...We Are Almost There!

Dear Faith Family,   

It's hard to believe that we are on Advent's home stretch! Kids get out of school in just a day or two, then, before you know it, the morning that has garnered so much of our attention, efforts, and even anxiousness over the last month will finally be here! And then, on that morning of mornings, most will be up early in the middle of a half-groggy haze while a frantic tearing into the treasures built up under our trees ends in the living room covered in paper and ribbon shrapnel. All this before we splurge on sweets and family staples as we move from one gathering to the next. The thought of it all rises in me a mixture of elation and angst!

While much of life seems too swift, it is even more true of the final sprint to Christmas morning. In every good story and song, the pace quickens, building to the crescendo, which is why I want to invite you to join me in an Advent practice we started a few years ago. A habit meant to help us do what we've been doing all month: slow down and keep awake these last days before Christmas rather than be swept up by them. 

In the first centuries after Christ's resurrection, our faith forerunners developed a custom of praying seven great prayers to call afresh on Jesus to "come." These prayers are prayed without our customary designations for Christ; instead, they address Jesus by titles found in the Old Testament, especially in Isaiah: "O Wisdom!" "O Root of Jesse!" "O Emmanuel!" etc.

They called these prayers the "O Antiphons," for they are sung as much as prayed. Seven brief songs call us into the crescendoing anticipation of our salvation needed and provided.

Priest and poet Malcome Guite explains their design and aid for you and me this way.

"Each antiphone begins with the invocation 'O' and then calls on Christ, although never by name. The mysterious titles and emblems given him from the pages of the Old Testament touch our deepest needs and intuitions; then each antiphon prays the great Advent verb, Veni, 'Come!'

There is, I think, both wisdom and humility in this strange abstention from the name of Christ in a Christian prayer. Of course, these prayers are composed AD...but in a sense, Advent itself is always BC! The whole purpose of Advent is to be for a moment fully and consciously Before Christ...Whoever compiled these prayers was able, imaginatively, to write 'BC,' perhaps saying to themselves: 'If I hadn't heard of Christ, and didn't know the name of Jesus, I would still long for a savior. I would still need someone to come. Who would I need? I would need a gift of Wisdom, I would need a Light, a King, a Root, a Key, a Flame.' And poring over the pages of the Old Testament, they would find all these things promised in the coming of Christ. By calling on Christ using each of these seven several gifts and prophecies, we learn afresh the meaning of a perhaps too familiar name.

It might be a good Advent exercise, and paradoxically an aid to sharing the faith if, for a season, we didn't rush in our conversation to refer to the known name, the predigested knowledge, the formulae of our faith, but waited alongside our non-Christian neighbors, who are, of course, living 'BC.'  We should perhaps count ourselves among the people who walk in darkness but look for a marvelous light." 

The O Antiphones officially began yesterday (the 17th) and will continue through the 23rd. We'll post them in our Collective Prayers and send a push reminder daily via the app. 

So today, amid the prayers of the past, take a moment and consider Guite's exhortation to ponder afresh, "Who do you need to come this Christmas?" and "Whose arrival is my friend...my family member...my neighbor awaiting?" and find in Jesus' arriving of both!

Love you, faith family! Happy Advent, Merry Christmas, and God bless. 

Don't Be So Negative!

Dear Faith Family,   

On Sunday, we lit the second purple candle on our Advent Wreath, the "Candle of Peace." Moments before, Sloane told the story of Gabriel's visit to Mary and Mary's response to her world being turned upside down. For most of us, such news would lead us to unease, not peace! No wonder Gabrial had to speak peace to her through the revelation that she had "found favor with God" (Lk. 1:30).

The same revelation was spoken to us repeatedly through the season's symbols, the stories we shared, the scriptures we read, and the songs we sang. Each element of the Advent gathering helped us keep awake for the arrival of the "Prince of Peace" (Is. 2:9). 

This Advent season, we are looking at the themes of Advent, which represent the gift of Christ's once arrival, His ever-arriving, and His final arrival to come. One of those themes is the gift of Peace.

Peace is a gift we all long for in some measure, even if we practically understand peace to be a negative, an absence of struggle and anxiety. Yet, because we seek an absence, our conception of peace often causes us to avoid the spaces and relationships that cry out most for peace, those places where we do or might experience struggle and anxiousness. I am sure you can name a few of those spaces...and people!

Yet, as we were reminded on Sunday, the biblical vision of peace is not an absence but a presence. We are bound by peace. Peace is a reality we find ourselves living within.

I, therefore (see 3:14-21 for the wonder behind the 'therefore'!), a prison for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of your calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.
(Ephesians 4:1-3)

Specifically, peace is a right relationship with God and others because of God's favor, as the angels sang that first Noel (and to which Angel gave witness on Sunday!)

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill among men...among those whom he is pleased! 
(Luke 2:14)

The peace we long for, then, is not something we find but a place in which we find ourselves that shapes how we live within the unsettled experiences of life. And the wonderous gift of God with us is that amid the places and among the people where we experience struggle and anxiety, we are within peace, bound by the Prince of Peace in the favor of God. For we have one who continues to speak, 

"Peace be within you!" For the sake of the house of the Lord our God, I will seek your good."
(Psalm 122:8-9)

May the peace of Christ rule in your hearts today and throughout this Advent season. 

Love you, faith family! God bless. 

Time To Stay Awake!

Dear Faith Family,   

Sunday officially sparked the beginning of the Advent season! It's here once more, a special time of the year in which the anticipation of something wonderful and new fills our hearts, catches our sight, echoes in our ears, and swims in our dreams. It is truly one of my favorite seasons, and I don't think I'm alone in that sentiment!

One of the things that makes Advent so refreshing for my faith is that it is a journey, not an event—a marked movement, day by day, that is taking us somewhere. While the destination is the most exciting thing, getting there is the most enlightening.

For all that Advent is and can be, it is most pointedly a season for staying awake. And this year, we want to keep awake for the fullness of Christ's arrivals between His arrivings. As we say in this season and were reminded on Sunday, Christ has come! Christ will come again! Christ is in us, the hope of glory!

Through the signs, songs, and stories of Advent, we are reminded of the truth that Jesus has come, born of woman, swaddled under the expanse of angels singing. And that he will return, as the Lamb slain and risen, King of kings, arriving once more to complete what he started in us and the world. All the while, we are being called by Jesus to "Stay awake" (Mk. 13:37) to the truth that he has never once left us, and we can expect that he never will.

Little advents, Jesus arrivals, continue to occur all around us if only we keep awake to the fullness of what Christ brings: hope, peace, joy, and love. These themes of Advent Sundays, along with the daily and weekly rhythms  "call us to a posture of alertness...watchful and ready...for the signs of hope," that draw us into full and forever life even in our waiting.  

So, this Advent, let us join together in asking our Father for eyes to see in the signs and stories and spirit of the season, the faithfulness of His presence, and the fullness of God with us.  

"May the God of great hope fill us up with joy,
fill us up with peace,
so that our believing lives,
filled with the life-giving energy of the Holy Spirit,
will brim over with hope!"
(Romans 15:13)

Love you, faith family! God bless.