Grant us so to die daily to sin

I really think that one of the bits of truth that our Baptist brothers and sisters retain in their tradition is that of baptism by full immersion. Baptism is a radical event; one in which we join Christ in the tomb in death and are resurrected to new life with him. I can picture this as a baptismal candidate is laid back and fully immersed under water (death) then regains their footing and arise from the watery grave to new life (resurrection). I have a harder time seeing the radicalness of it when we splash the top of their head with three tiny scoops of water. Where is the death without which there is no resurrection?

What really struck me among the myriad options for a principal Easter service is that first collect:

O God, who for our redemption gave your only-begotten Son to the death of the cross, and by his glorious resurrection delivered us from the power of our enemy: Grant us so to die daily to sin, that we may evermore live with him in the joy of his resurrection; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Our death to sin and resurrection to new life does not happen once and for all at our baptism. It seems that it instead needs to be a daily occurrence. Each day we are called upon to choose life by recalling our baptism, recalling that moment in which our old self died, choosing again to die so that we might join Jesus in his resurrection. Without this key step, without dying daily to sin, it is so easy to forget that without death there is no resurrection. Without this key step it is easy to live a life of triumphalism and forget that we are indeed sinners in every meaning of the word. Without this key step we lose our need for Jesus, for we are redeemed in our own perfection.

I don't remember my baptism; I was too young. I can assume that I wasn't dunked at 6 months at a Catholic Church. But I will remember the image of full immersion this day as I strive to die to sin so that I might join with Christ in the joy of his resurrection.

Easter is for Everyone

I don't title my sermons. I'm not sure why. Its not that I'm opposed to titling sermons, I just don't do it with mine. I am, however, playing with the idea of titling my Easter Vigil sermon, "Easter is for Everyone." What'da think? My reason for this is that prayer I got so jazzed about a few months ago; the one that ends the readings of the Vigil service.

O God of unchangeable power and eternal light: Look
favorably on your whole Church, that wonderful and sacred
mystery; by the effectual working of your providence, carry
out in tranquillity the plan of salvation; let the whole world
see and know that things which were cast down are being
raised up, and things which had grown old are being made
new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection
by him through whom all things were made, your Son Jesus
Christ our Lord. Amen.

This prayer, with its focus on the whole Church, seems apt to me for Easter morning, as the battered and broken body of Christ is resurrected, holes and all, for the sake of all humanity. But my Easter Vigil sermon has nothing to do with the readings for the primary services on Easter Day. Still, the sermon title holds, "Then Peter began to speak to them: 'I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.'"

Peter's realization that God is doing a new thing outside of the bonds of Peter's original understanding is essentially an realization that Easter is for Everyone. The work done on the cross, in the tomb, and ultimately in the resurrection is a work done so that "all might come within the reach of God's saving embrace."

Easter is for everyone, yet so many don't know that Easter is for them. That is why I want to title my sermon this one time. I want it to say in big letters somewhere (oh how I wish we had a marquee this one time) that Easter is for Everyone.

He is not here, but he has risen

Quite possibly the greatest sentence in all of human history is spoken by the Angels of the Lord in Luke's account of that first Easter morning. "He is not here, but he has risen." If I remember correctly, there is no punctuation in Koine Greek, so this could easily read, "He is not here. But he has RISEN!"

Lent has been quite a journey for me. On Shrove Tuesday my bishop came for a visit and two days later I was free to interview for jobs outside of the diocese. Lent has truly been a time in the wilderness. I haven't slept well. I think I have an ulcer. "Pray without ceasing" is my life whether I like it or not. I've been tempted by jobs. I've been reminded that this is a job search no matter how theologically flowery we are with our language. Its been a long Lent.

By the time Easter rolls around, I still won't know. As of now, my final job interview is scheduled for April 19th and then Holy Saturday begins. Cassie and I will then be in the place of the disciples on that crushing day, "what do we do now?" Though for us it will be very different. We have the words of Luke to sustain us, "He is not here, but he has risen!"

No matter how long our Lent lasts, no matter how disconcerting our Holy Saturday is, we know the promise of Easter; that Easter came once and for all. That is comforting as Lent drags on.

why do you look for the living among the dead?

This was a very interesting question when it was asked by the angels of the Lord to the women. It continues to be an interesting question for me today. Just as the women came to the tomb expecting to find Jesus, I often find myself searching for Jesus in old, dead places. The folks over at emergent have a wonderful way of talking about the gospel as coming to life in a community of believers. While for so many the ancient words of the scriptures are the land of the dead; old idioms which make no sense in our current context. But what if we, as followers of the way of Jesus, were to live in such a way that those ancient words were brought to life by example in our words and deeds?

Those of you who know me, know that I won't accept this life of living gospel to be only one of social justice and acceptance. What if the radical nature of the gospel wasn't encapsulated in the 1960s. What if there was something before "the way its always been began" in 1890? What if we were able to reconnect with the old, the ancient; and not the dead? You see, the Church has killed the gospel. Whether fundamentalist or liberal mainline, we kill it in the same way; legalism - or better said, the ability to tell in another the validity of their faith. We kill the gospel by using angry words to define others, while outsiders, nonbelievers look on and scoff at our hypocracy. Seekers come to our churches expecting to find life, and instead find themselves at an open coffin wake. They are able to see glimpses of the life we once had, but inevitably are struck by the mourning by some, and worse yet, those who continue to beat on the corpse though she has long since died.

This isn't a happy Easter post, and for that I'm sorry. But there is hope here. "If anyone is in Christ there is a new creation." As followers of the way of Jesus we can choose today to be a new creation; to be restored; to move from the place of the dead to the way of the living God. We can bring those ancient words of God's grace to life in our living. We can be a city upon a hill, a light to the nations, salt to the world. We have to want to live. We have to stop looking for the living Jesus among the dead, and seek the abundant life that comes as we join him in bringing the gospel to life day by day.

those wicked tenants

I wrote an exegesis paper (for the 99% of normal people who don't know what that means, go here) on Mark's version of the Parable of the Wicked Tenants. Let me tell you, they were some wicked folk. What is striking in both versions (its in Matthew also, but I'm not as familiar with that text) is just how foolish the landowner looks. In Mark, Jesus explains the allegorical interpretation of the parable with God playing the role of the landowner. God sets up a perfect vineyard so that all the tenants have to do is work the land and harvest the crop. God sends one servant, then another, and another, (in Mark he sends many more), and finally sends his only son; "surely they will respect him." But they don't. They kill the son in the hopes of having the vineyard to themselves. God looks like such a fool in this parable. Sending people over and over and over again to a group of hard-hearted tenants who want nothing more than material things.

Oh, wait, that's what God has done in salvation history. God sent prophet after prophet calling the people to repent (to turn around) and follow the will of God. Then, when that didn't work, he sent his only Son, God incarnate, to call the people back. And he was killed for power and prestige. Still today we can hear the voice of God calling us away from our lives enslaved to sin, and we ignore, we rationalize, we church-hop. God is foolish, but God's will is perfect wisdom. God knows that without him we are doomed to failure and God, who in the trinity is perfect relationship, eagerly desires relationship with us. And so he tries over and over and over again. We fill our lives with sex, with drugs, with material things, all in an attempt to drown God out, but as is the case in the parable, God will keep trying over and over and over again. Thanks be to God for his foolishness.

so very thirsty

Psalm 32:3

While I held my tongue, my bones withered away, *
because of my groaning all day long.

4

For your hand was heavy upon me day and night; *
my moisture was dried up as in the heat of summer.

5

Then I acknowledged my sin to you, *
and did not conceal my guilt.

6

I said," I will confess my transgressions to the LORD." *
Then you forgave me the guilt of my sin.

As one comes to a crossroads in life, it isn't uncommon to look back on the years and reflect. I have found myself doing that as SMW (I've decided to use the blogger thing and not refer to my wife by her name anymore, but rather an ancronym. She will heretofore be known as Smokin' Hot Wife, a name she will hate, but meh, she doesn't read this anyway)... as SMW and I prepare to leave Alexandria to find a new home and a new ministry.

Reading the Psalm for Lent 4c gave me pause today as I was forced to look back at the peaks and valleys of my spiritual life over the years. I have spent many a year feeling like the Psalmist, "withering away" and "dried up as in heat in summer." The spiritual life is one that is often hard to attend to. It is usually the first thing to go away when the calendar crunches and time seems to grow short. It is usually the first thing to go away when things are going smoothly. In some cases, it may even go away when times get tough. The spiritual life takes time and energy and often feels like it is a waste, there is no tangible results to show. This is a pitfall for many in ministry; the demands of a parish are such that they don't want to pay you to take care of your spiritual life, they pay you to take care of them.

The Psalm, however is clear. Without prayer comes death. With prayer comes life. It is something that requires intention and a clarity of purpose, but it is something that none of us can afford to forget.

ah the prodigal son

Such a rich passage. It seems like it is always right on the preaching horizon; something that must always be reckoned with. As a kid in Sunday School we always talked about the repentance of the younger son or the mercy of the Father, but more and more these days, I hear people talking about the hard heart of the elder son.

I guess it is because we don't like untidy endings to things that we teach our kids only part of the story. But it seems appropriate to be uncomfortable from time to time. I am uncomfortable with the elder son because I see a lot of me in him. I want to define the terms of just about everything, and often I end up bitter because life has not worked out according to my plans. "I have worked so hard, why does x get such and such?" It is a commonality to humanity, I believe, one that Jesus was keenly aware of as he told this parable. Be it the scribes and pharisees looking down on the sinners and tax collectors or Jesus' own disciples arguing over the seats at his right and left hand, we all have our expectations. We all assume God's will, God's justice is as we define it. What is so very clear in this parable, however, is that God's will and God's justice are God's and God's alone. We can work to bring our will close to that of the Father, but it is only by grace that we are made whole, perfected in the will of the Father. 'Til then, I'll be with you all, fighting for my method of justice to be lived out, sometimes pouting outside of the party because things didn't go my way. If you see me there, remind me of this story, and invite me to turn around and receive the grace that God gives all those who truly turn to him.

my first memorized bible verse

Came from the epistle for Lent 4c. "If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!" It was a part of the InterVarsity (I think) bible memorization series. My Young Life leader gave it to me, and I really wanted to learn the verses. "The only way to have scripture on your heart is to memorize it." Yeah, I let him down, though he was an amazing accountability partner. Anyway, I've found a new way to place scripture on my heart (see nearly all previous blog posts).

Still, I really like this verse. It is still sort of a mantra for me as I work as a radical centrist on a ministry of reconciliation within the church. We are all new creations, each being made new every minute by the sanctification of the Holy Spirit. Paul doesn't say we are made perfect, just new. We are still sinners; personally and corporately. As new creations, constantly being made new, we should see the sin being removed within our self as we, in humility, call our brothers and sisters to accountability for their transgressions. To do so, requires that we remain in conversation. To be new creations, one with another, learning from what the Spirit is doing in our brother and sister that might help us along our journey; personally and corporately, so that we once again might be made new in Christ.

repentance

The Youth Director at my field education site is the bomb. A computer guru by day, the man is a brilliant theologian able to speak the language of the busy, hyperstressed teenagers of the Washington Metropolitan area. He synthesizes things in a way that brings things to life for these kids (and for me and my wife) in really neat ways. Last night, another such moment happened as his lenten small group talked about sin.

"The simple definition of sin is anything that takes us away from God." CLICK! For my wife, 26 years of living as a Christian finally made sense. The man made definitions of sin we so often use; lying, cheating, playing cards, drinking, dancing, whatever, are a false construction - sin is anything that takes us away from God. Jesus is he who brings us back into right relationship with God.

We talked about this a lot last night and came up with an image for Jesus. Jesus calls us to repent of our sins (see Lent 3c). The literal translation of the Hebrew word for repent is "to turn around". So we imagined Jesus standing behind us tapping us on the shoulder. In order to speak with him we must turn around. Having done so, Jesus can so easily ask us to join him in a different way. "I know you want to go about this in your own way, but what if we tried this way, I promise it will prove beneficial."

I'm excited that Cassie finally had it all click. It proves the benefit of having a great diversity in the body of Christ. No one previously, myself included, had articulated the act of repentance in a way that Cassie was comfortable with. She could understand what they were saying, but it never really spoke to her. Pastors, parents, friends, family, husbands, fellow church-goers; no one spoke her language, until last night.

Lent 3c = GOE Set 5

And I don't like it.

Set 5, if you will recall, was the Theory and Practice of Ministry section with the 32 year-old hospice patient wondering if she had enough faith. The stories of destruction in 1 Corinthians and Luke's gospel are eerily familiar. What is the cause of calamity on earth. Why do bad things happen?

I know these are questions I'm going to have to answer. I know, however, that these are questions that I am struggling with presently. These are questions, which much like my answer to the cancer patient, I'm not 100% happy with. I don't like Paul's answer; that the people of Moses' generation were an example. I don't really like Jesus' answer; that you must repent or perish because it sounds like a) if I repent I won't parish and b) death is punishment for specific actions.

I know that the wages of sin is death. I know that death wasn't in the plan from the get-go. But I guess, I'm more of the mind that death is the result of Sin; that corporate entity that is inherent in all human systems since the fall rather than sins; those things which "from time to time we most grievously have committed." Still, this all sounds like my answer to the woman in tears, which my GOE readers most certainly didn't like. Maybe I'll have to change the answer I give others, but for me, this is what works.

I have trust issues

I know in my heart that God's will for me is perfect. I know in my heart that God will protect me. I know in my heart that the Holy Spirit, alive within me, works every minute to bring my will to perfection in the Father's will. Yet, in my head, sometimes, it is just so hard to trust.

Moses, too, had trust issues. His calling involved a bush that burned but was not consumed, how much more clarity does one need that God is at work? Anyway, Moses' call story is, for me, the quintessential call narrative. I used it last year for a Christian Ed Administration paper on the calling of volunteer leaders. It just seems the perfect example of God being God and humans being humans.

Moses, who clearly has a job, has his life completely changed by his curiosity. To return to Egypt is to take his life into his own hands. To walk up to Pharaoh and ask for the Israelites to be released is lunacy. Imagine having to share this calling with the people you are called to free? Yet, God is faithful. God responds to every one of Moses' trust issues with a word of grace.

"Who am I..." Moses says. "I will be with you..." God responds. (I have to note here the way in which I feel much like Moses. Do you see what an arrogant response Moses gives? God has just given Moses a task. God is speaking directly to Moses. God people, God. And what is Moses' first thought. "I don't have the ability to do this." It is all about him, and in no way about God. This is so true with my trust issues surrounding a job - but enough of an aside).

"Ok, but what about the Israelites?" Moses responds again. "Tell them I AM sent you." God has a plan, God knows of its wisdom, Moses isn't so sure, and God motivates. It is a cycle that happens over and over again in human history. A cycle that happens over and over again in my life. I forget that God's plan is perfect with or without me. I forget that the goal of life is perfection of the will. I forget these things and tell God that I know what's best. Like Moses I want to keep it safe and easy, but God, being God, will have none of it. God, being God, is worthy of trust, in heart and mind.

not much reflection today

What jumped out to me today is a verse that I find confusing. Having killed the requisite animals, Abram is hard at working keeping the birds of prey away, when, seemingly out of nowhere "a deep sleep fell upon Abram, and a deep and terrifying darkness descended upon him."

I'm guessing God put him to sleep, which would make sense. God was about to pass by as a flaming torch to consume all that Abram had offered, but why is the sleep that fell upon Abram called "a deep and terrifying darkness?"

I've decided to do some research, and it seems as though our Lectionary in its splitting verses (Gen 15.1-12, 17-18) has made for the confusion.

Here it is from the Lectionary:

As the sun was going down, a deep sleep fell upon Abram, and a deep and terrifying darkness descended upon him.

When the sun had gone down and it was dark, a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch passed between these pieces. On that day the LORD made a covenant with Abram, saying, "To your descendants I give this land, from the river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates."

Here it is in context:
12 As the sun was about to set, a deep sleep fell upon Abram, and a great dark dread descended upon him. 13 And He said to Abram, "Know well that your offspring shall be strangers in a land not theirs, and they shall be enslaved and oppressed four hundred years; 14 but I will execute judgment on the nation they shall serve, and in the end they shall go free with great wealth. 15 As for you, You shall go to your fathers in peace; You shall be buried at a ripe old age. 16 And they shall return here in the fourth generation, for the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet complete." 17 When the sun set and it was very dark, there appeared a smoking oven, and a flaming torch which passed between those pieces. 18 On that day the LORD made a covenant with Abram, saying, "To your offspring I assign this land, from the river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates:

God's promise in vv 13-16 isn't all good news; it isn't even mostly good news. The descendants of Abram will be oppressed in a foreign land for 400 years before they can enter the Promised Land. Surely this news is terrifying and dreadful to Abram. Just as God offers him the unfathomable news that he will sire an offspring he finds out that it is only for them to be brought very low for a very long time. Maybe that's where the dread and terror come from. Anyway, its an interesting verse, one suitable for further study.

go tell that fox...

I love the confidence with which Jesus speaks to the Pharisees here in Lent 2c. The narrative makes it hard to tell if the Pharisees are really worried about Jesus' safety, or if they just want him out of their hair. Either way, they urge him to "get away from here." Seemingly without skipping a beat, Jesus replies, "Go and tell that fox for me, 'Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.'"

This is by far one of the funniest exchanges between Jesus and the religious leaders. We expect our fair Lord to defer to the will of these men. Its just how we think of him. A 6'1" hippie who skips around from town to town telling people about "love, man." But here, I think, we see a glimpse of the real Jesus; a man who knows his mission and with conviction will live it out. He doesn't bend over backward to make people happy. His message of love isn't one of acceptance, but rather repentance. And damn it, he's not finished. He's got two more days of teaching and healing before he reaches Jerusalem, and he will be there when he gets there.

I love this image of Jesus. It speaks to me as one who 1) is a bit of a push over and 2) feels as though I have a job to do in the Lord. To do it with confidence and strength is my goal. To do so would be to model Christ. You tell 'em Jesus!

O LORD God, how am I to know...

Abram asks God the question. At least for me, right now, it is the question. How am I to know that 3 years of seminary wasn't a waste? How am I to know that a call will line up in the next few weeks? How am I to know that "playing the game" is the right/wrong thing to do. How am I to know? Clearly, the Bishop didn't have all the answers I was looking for, and clearly I need to be patient, but most clearly is I'm struggling with that.

I sorta feel like ol' Abram. God and I have an agreement; God called and Cassie and I followed all the way to Alexandria. Now, God is supposed to provide a sweet ass call in the diocese, and it just isn't happening in the right time. Like Abram, I want to remind God of our agreement, as if he doesn't remember. Like Abram, I want to fix things such that they work in my timing, as if God has gone on vacation. Like Abram, I'm wrong to do so.

It is just so difficult to wait upon God, especially when God uses people to work out his plan. It feels a lot less like I'm waiting on God and a lot more like I'm waiting on the diocese or the bishop or the possible churches, and that, for me, is the hardest part. Its not like this is new for me. When I moved to GC to be with my fiance (now wife), I went for weeks without even a nibble on the job front. Ultimately I took a job waiting tables and could barely pay the bills. I was struggling then too.

My experience says that God will provide in due time. However, it is difficult to draw on experience in situations like this. O LORD God, how am I to know that you will once again provide for this impatient sinful creature? How am I to know...

those pesky brackets again

I love the Episcopal Lectionary. I'm sorry to see it go away for the RCL; I like having it right in the back of my Book of Common Prayer. Yet one thing I am hopeful for, and I think happens some in the RCL; that we might be forced to hear those parts of the Bible that make us uncomfortable. Psalm 58 with its breaking of teeth, for example. Or maybe, all of the Gospel lesson for 2 Lent, year C. The brackets which set the first half of the lesson apart make it optional. It is optional because it is hard to deal with. It is hard to deal with because it is, gulp, exclusive. We want Jesus to tell us "it is going to be OK." Instead he tells us, "there are a goodly number who will not enter the Kingdom, and even more who you think shouldn't, who will in fact dine with God."

This is not a message we like to hear. Especially as bishops send more and more functional Unitarian/Universalists to seminary, this passage, left to the BCP Lectionary would be ignored over and over again. Of course, left to the RCL, it won't even be an option (the RCL includes only the second half of the text - I guess there's a lot more to work on than I originally thought).

Anyway, we need to hear the radically particular message of Jesus. Like with the people of Israel, God chose to work in one man, in first century Palestine, for the redemption of all the world. We can debate the wisdom of this plan of God if you like, but after 2000 years, I'd say this Way has some momentum behind it. Still, we must hear that there will be those who God has not chosen (for you predestination folk) or who, when faced with the pain of an all-loving God who they over and over again rejected, will once again choose to go their own way, to take the wide door of temptation over the narrow door of freedom. We need to hear this so that we might be prepared to again and again choose the right door, the door that leads to everlasting life and perfect communion with God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

a home for God

When recent grads hear that Dr. Cook is teaching his Ezekiel class this semester, they tend to be jealous. "Man, I wanted to take that class," they inevitably say. It is a sweet, sweet class. The book of Ezekiel is one crazy prophetic text, and some of the themes of this exilic prophet are amazingly universal. The thing that hits me over and over again, however, is the prophets holiness theology.

A down and dirty synopsis of the holiness strand is that God, who is fully other, fully holy, dwells in the holy of holies. God's holiness is guarded by cherubim (angels) and human priests (Levites), but it radiates throughout the Promised Land and beyond. Evil in the land impacts God's holiness by making his dwelling unclean, and could, if bad enough, force God to move his presence somewhere else.

All this to say, that in the Deuteronomy lesson it is interesting to me that God has yet to choose his home in the land he will give the Israelites. More interesting, and key to understanding the Hebrew Bible and holiness theology is that God dwells among the people. As this imaginary person brings the first fruits of the land to the altar, he comes radically close to the holiness of God. This is a dangerous place to be.

The most prevalent image of holiness in the HB/OT is that of a fire (think Refiner's Fire). The holiness of God smelts the soul of humanity, removing all the impurities, and leaving only the pure gold of holiness behind. To approach God, even within the Temple, is to be ridiculously close to that fire which is all consuming. It is radical that God chose to dwell in and with his Creation. It is radical that he allowed his Creation to come so close to his otherness. This otherness, this holiness, the refining fire is an image that we have very much lost in our society, but one we should seek to reclaim.

offering thanksgiving

We, as modern-day Christians, have a hard time with the book of Deuteronomy. The law given in that book is foreign to us in many ways. Yet the lesson for Lent 1 is clearly applicable today. If one reads it with a careful eye, it seems to say that while God requires the first fruits of the harvest, he doesn't care much about it. Instead, he wants you to offer thanksgiving for the great things he has done.

In this passage the Israelites are told what they should say as they offer their first fruits to God. The words are not praises or adorations. They are not glories and hallelujahs, but rather they are a story; THE story. The story of Israel's salvation from its humble beginnings as "a wandering Aramean" to its entrance into the land of "milk and honey". The murmuring of the desert is no where to be found in this story, for it is a recollection of God's saving action; a work done having required nothing of God's chosen people. A work done in grace. Giving of the first fruits is a response to that grace. Recalling the story of salvation is a way of offering thanksgiving that is well beyond the giving of material things.

We, as modern-day Christians, can associate with this. As we come to offer God our thanksgivings we would do well to recall the saving work done long before us. The grace filled act of saving Israel from Egypt is repeated in the grace filled sacrifice of the paschal lamb. God doesn't need our first fruits, God doesn't need anything. God wants and longs for our relationship, and the beginning of that relationship is the recognition of God's total otherness and God's saving work in history. So offer your first fruits, but not to fulfill some requirement, but rather as a spiritual discipline of thanksgiving in the recollection of God's saving grace.

a crafty sob

The devil is one crafty son-of-a-gun. The story of Jesus' 40 days in the wilderness gets my attention every time. It begins with the Spirit sending him to the wilderness (which if one is listening for the Spirit will happen more than once in one's life). Then, the devil shows up to have some fun. A hungry Jesus, having spent 40 days without food, is tempted first by the a call to his most basic needs. "You are hungry, make yourself something to eat." Maslow and his hierarchy of needs must have a field day with this passage. Not only is Jesus tempted to fulfill his physical desire for food, but he is also called on to self-actualize his authority, "If you are the Son of God..." Jesus however is cool, "It is written, one does not live by bread alone."

The devil tries again. This time trying to stroke Jesus' materialistic side. "I have all this," the devil says, "if you bow down and worship me, it will be yours." I'm not sure if it has always been this way, but if one looks around the world today, it is easy to say that materialism is by far the most rampant -ism afflicting humanity. Jesus, the Son of God, who will one day rule all of Creation, probably had some inclination that first he would have to suffer death upon the cross. It would have been a heck of a lot easier to skip the next 3 years of telling the same stories over and over to hard headed apostles and take the devil's offer, but he refuses. His will, both human will and divine will, are so one with the Father that he chooses the harder road, for with the harder road comes the restoration of humanity, that is the purpose for which he came to earth.

Finally, the devil gets crafty. If he won't take food and he won't take stuff, surely he'll take heed of that which is so close to his heart, the scripture. The devil turns the Word around on the Word made flesh in the hopes of catching him napping. Jesus, however, is undeterred. Having been around since, well, before time, Jesus knows full well what it means to have angels protecting him, and it certainly isn't testing God by jumping from the top of God's own dwelling place, the temple.

The devil is a crafty SOB. He's always using that which we know best to fool, trick, and confuse us. Often, we see it coming, and still are unable to defend ourselves against falling into temptation. Fortunately, we have an out. Jesus, who was like us, yet without sin, knows temptation, he knows the chicanery, and he has redeemed us from all those times when we can't get away from the tempter. Thanks be to God for that.

testimony

Surprisingly enough, the TV went off early last night and Cassie and I got into bed by 10 and read our books. As most of you know, I'm not much of a reader, but I'm really enjoying Diana Butler Bass' newest book, Christianity for the Rest of Us. The chapter with which I am currently wrestling is entitled "Testimony". In it Bass calls for a return to the ancient practice of testimony - talking openly and publicly about one's faith. I am not good at this. I think its safe to say, we, as Episcopalians are not good at this. Yet it is such a powerful practice. She recounts the words of one guy who says, "When people ask me what I did this weekend I can't help but jump into a story about a great liturgy or a sermon."

"I can't help but jump into a story about a great liturgy or sermon." This I think we can do. While we might not able to share the story of when we accepted Jesus Christ as our personal Lord and Savior (Junior Year of High School - favorite passage Proverbs 3.5-6), but we can talk about our church life, our experience of God in liturgy, Word, and Sacrament. This goes along well with the Epistle to the Romans. To confess with our lips and believe in our hearts is to know the Lord. Our confession is our testimony of our experience of the Divine. To believe is to have no choice but to testify. Its awkward and uncomfortable, but it is a wonderful practice and a great evangelism tool.

"For one believes with the heart and so is justified, and one confesses with the mouth and so is saved."

opportune time

I preached this weekend on what I consider to be one of the most dangerous passages in all of Scripture, "blessed are you who are poor." Today, as I dive into the readings for the first Sunday in Lent (I can't believe we're almost in lent already), I think I've found one of the most frightening lines in the Gospels, "When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time."

How true is this!?! The devil is a constant nemesis. Just when we think he's gone, or as the fancy is these days, just when we've explained him away as metaphor, he springs back into our lives ready to fight the same battles again. A friend calls this "Uncle Baggage". The unexpected guest who appears when you are most vulnerable to rub salt in your wounds. Jesus is led by the Spirit to the wilderness. These 40 days should be a time of quiet and deep self-reflection. Instead, the devil shows up to make it 40 days of hell.

Being tempted is not fun. You know it is happening, and you know you really really want what the devil is offering. On the other hand, you know full well the ramifications of siding with the devil. It sucks, I know. What sucks more is that even when you overcome temptation having found God once again "mighty to save" the devil doesn't leave you alone forever. You've merely won the battle, the war will continue as long as you live. The devil will depart, only to return at an opportune time.