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Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. Luke 6:27-28

A true tragedy, larger and sadder even than any of the social issues that concern us today, is a heart with no room to take in the good. I wonder if this tragedy might actually be at the root of the other things in our world that seem to always be going wrong.

In pondering Jesus’ words in Luke 6, I found myself asking if perhaps I was on the other side of the command. From our first days in Sunday school, we hear the admonishment to love our enemies. To do good. To bless. To pray, and to turn the other cheek. If I were to evaluate my success at following Jesus’ teaching, I would have to confess that I would receive a failing grade. Less than 50 percent of the instruction is followed less than 50 percent of the time. An F. That doesn’t look so good on the saintly report card.

If I, if you, if we, fail to love and bless and pray, then does that lead to the conclusion that perhaps I am the enemy, the hater, the one doing the cursing, the one mistreating someone else? Hmm. How do we know which side of Jesus’ instruction we stand on? Is it possible to raise our grade in the class of compassion and live in such a way that even though we may not feel like doing these things, we recognize the situations in which they are needed and we are at least willing to follow the teaching?

No one will do it perfectly. Everyone struggles to love enemies or to remember in prayer the person who knows how to make life miserable over and over again.

But there are ways to grow in love.

We must empty the heart of pride so that we can give as well as receive. Then we must decide with God what doing good looks like, and remember that standard so that negative responses don’t cause us pain.

Use written prayers to pray in those times when we don’t know how to pray for a difficult person, or when we don’t feel like praying. Let the written prayer speak for us before the throne of God.

Remember the golden rule. This sounds trite, but it works. Do to others as you would have them do to you. When that angry retaliation wants to slip from your mouth, clamp your teeth together and pause. If you wouldn’t want to hear the words pressing on your tongue, then you’d better not say them to anyone else, either. But, if you would be helped or made to feel special, knowing you are blessed and prayed for, then you should try to also give those gifts away. What joy flows from knowing we were loved by someone in this way even though we can recall from the past ways we hurt them. This is what grace looks like, and it spreads when we choose to give.

Forget. The wrongs from last year, last week, or even an hour ago have no place in the present. Let them roll off. We belong to a Lord who loves us deeply, so any lack of respect or heartless treatment has no power to define us or determine our response. We can live as people who shine with grace and love all the time because he who is in us is greater than he who is in the world (I John 4:4).

After attempting to practice these things, what is the good that we start to receive? It can be called so many things such as higher levels of compassion, patience, a deeper sense of confidence that we are taken care of, and a stronger desire to share these good things with others. We can’t do it if we are full of pride or holding onto grudges. Take courage and forgive, let go, and bless the others around you. Then our hearts will be good, and they will be full of good.

Written prayers from the Book of Common Prayer

O God, you made us in your own image, and you have redeemed us through your son Jesus Christ. Look with compassion on us all. Take away the arrogance and hatred which infect our hearts. Break down the walls that separate us. Unite us in the bonds of love, and work through our struggles and confusion to accomplish your purposes. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

 

Merciful Savior, you loved Martha and Mary and Lazarus, hallowing their home with your sacred presence. Bless my home, I pray, that your love may rest upon us, and that your presence may dwell with us. May we all grow in grace and in the knowledge of you, our Lord and Savior. Teach us to love one another as you have commanded. Help us to bear one another’s burdens, O blessed Jesus, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit live and reign, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

 

 

The expert of the law replied, “The one who has mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” Luke 10:37

The parable of the Good Samaritan is an easy story to interpret as a lesson on offering charity and practicing kindness. Those insights are perfectly true and stand as concepts we should take away from the parable. And yet there is something much deeper Jesus wants the well-educated expert of the law to understand. This lawyer had all the right answers. His head knowledge was impeccable. But the condition of his heart remained unknown, and his heart is what Jesus is addressing.

This story opens up to us the sharpest of ironies. The priest, the man who had just fulfilled his two-week shift at the Jerusalem temple ushering worshipers into God’s presence, is the assumed choice for lending aid in the story. But what does the priest do? He swerves the donkey he is riding out of the way of the man in need. The priest actually goes to a lot of work to avoid the injured man. Why? Because the priest must follow a long list of rules in order to stay ritually clean enough to keep his job. If the man in the ditch were dead, and if the priest were to touch him, then a complicated and time-consuming process faced the priest before he could again serve as mediator between God and the people.

The Levite, as assistant to the priest, was in a similar situation. He must maintain cleanliness according to the law in order to serve at the temple. He probably saw the priest, his boss on the job at the temple, ignore the man in the ditch and knew that he, too, must ride on without stopping or his cleanliness would be compromised and the reputation of his boss damaged. The Levite knew that if the priest, as the highest authority didn’t stop, then he as the subordinate shouldn’t either or his actions might bring humiliation on the priest.

We can follow this reasoning well enough and perhaps even excuse the temple staff for their apparent hard-heartedness. But in reality, the lack of compassion on the part of the priest and the Levite landed them in the same class with the robbers. These leaders stole from the injured man. While the robbers took his money and clothes, the priest and Levite deprived him of dignity and the opportunity to receive practical assistance. They were riding donkeys which meant that if they would have stopped for this man, they could have provided him with instant security as well as the time saved in travel to the nearest shelter.

But they were too concerned about keeping the rules. The thieves were bound by greed. The priest and Levite were bound by legalism. The first irony Jesus exposes is the fact that in order to show mercy, a heart must already live with a degree of freedom. Compassion doesn’t flow out of bondage to whatever selfish pursuit has power over us. It flows from a heart that is free.

To build on that, the Samaritan illustrates the second irony. True mercy, true compassion, requires sacrifice. Only the free heart has the capacity to give anything away. Sacrifice asks for the path to change. Not to go out of the way to avoid the inconvenience and discomfort of showing mercy, but to alter the course so that it leads right to the place of suffering.

The Samaritan took a great risk to help the man on the side of the road. Dismounting from his donkey put him in danger of becoming the next victim of a robbery. Taking this man into the next town inhabited by full-blooded Jews who viewed him, a half-breed Samaritan, as an enemy, put him in danger of getting beat up and coming out the loser of a brawl, or getting run out of town completely.

This example of the Samaritan leads to the third irony. In full knowledge of the danger, the Samaritan cared for the man anyway. He loved past the point of pain. Sacrifice and giving of ourselves can be painful. But as this story illustrates, if we are willing to do that we reach a new level of love spacious in its freedom and rewarding in its ability to give.

How do we achieve these levels of compassion and freedom? They come from the measure of God’s love residing in us.

Push past selfishness. Push past keeping all the rules and knowing the right answers. Love past the point of pain. In the end the love of God absorbs the pain leaving us with hearts living in freedom and full of mercy.

“You called in trouble and I delivered you. I answered you in the secret place of thunder.” Psalm 81:7

Psalm 81 starts with praise. The people are singing this song at a feast designed to help them remember God’s act of setting their ancestors free from the bondage of slavery in Egypt. The psalm continues with a celebration of God’s care for them and of his power to save them. It moves on to talk of the statutes Israel must adhere to and finishes with a call to obedience.

But tucked in the middle of the song among the verses reflecting God’s side of a conversation is a poetic phrase from the older style King James translation: “I answered you in the secret place of thunder.”

God is saying to his people that he has redeemed them by bringing them out of slavery and given them his law for holy living. Prior to this act, they had been burdened and oppressed. They called out to God and he delivered them.

Thunder is referred to in the Bible as having a voice, and of sounding like God’s voice. His voice thundered from heaven in an answer to Jesus at the request to glorify his name (John 12;29). Voices like thunder are mentioned in John’s vision of heaven in the book of Revelation.

Since thunder is associated with God’s voice, then the secret place is the place where God’s voice is heard. Prayer is an obvious secret place, as demonstrated in Psalm 81:7, where God states that the people called to him and then he responded with an answer.

In their story, this happened when God led the Israelites out of Egypt and brought them to the mountain in order to receive his Law so that they could live in relationship with him.

For us, that secret place is anywhere we hear God speaking. Does he speak to you through reading the Bible, attending church services, prayer, Holy Spirit impressions and leadings, nature, or time spent in healthy community?

The secret place of thunder was the place of meeting. It was the place of transformation that consummated God’s redemptive work. It reinforced his power to save, assured them of his care, and demonstrated his love for them.

The location is secret because it witnessed the interaction between the Lord and each individual person. The mighty, Sovereign God descended from the heavens to meet with, talk to, and live among the people. Each person saw the same clouds or fire that represented God’s presence, but each one would have heard the unique message God spoke to their hearts. Words of love, of healing, of instruction, and of freedom.

Do you have a “secret place of thunder” where you hear personal messages from God? He is ready and waiting to speak words of freedom and love into your heart. God redeems all things. Nothing is lost or stolen away from his plan for you.

Praise him. Keep his statutes. Call out to him. He will answer, and that word will come in a way and at a place that demonstrates his saving power for you.

He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. Philippians 1:6

This spring while reading on topics related to my job in spiritual services, I discovered this phrase, “cathedrals in the making” in a book[1] written by an older leader to a different generation. The author used the phrase in the context of engaged couples starting a marriage and their family. As I contemplated the concept of a cathedral, I realized that the image could also apply to hearts. I adopted the phrase and have repurposed it a bit to help us understand the ongoing work happening in our lives as a result of God’s presence in our hearts.

Cathedrals are sacred spaces of art, of light, of worship, or word, and of history with spires and steeples, all of them pointing upward to the sky. When God is allowed to take possession of a heart, the same thing happens in our lives. We become a sacred space. We are his work of art full of light where the corridors of our souls resound with the song of worship. He redeems our past, speaks his word to us, and gives us a purpose. When we live for his glory, everything we do points up, to him, directing the vision of others to heaven.

In Paul’s writing to the Philippians, he counsels that this sort of grand work takes time. It doesn’t happen in a day or a week, or even at a pace we notice. Each morning and evening of our existence seems to frame another ordinary day of routine tasks and the same old conflicts. But in the midst of living, by making wise decisions large or small, and by staying in relationship with the Lord, he grows us until he expands us to greater levels of strength and of witness.

Theologians have a fancy word for this process called “sanctification.” Little by little, the Holy Spirit heals us, freeing us from addictions or destructive patterns. We walk a little closer to the Lord. We venture a little deeper with him in faith as part of a gracious journey that lasts our whole lives.

God is faithful. He will complete the work he has begun. It takes years. We don’t reach the destination where perfection awaits until our arrival in eternity. But along the way, we can rest assured that we are cathedrals in the making. We are becoming spaces of beauty that are works in progress bringing delight to the Master Architect who constructs each one for a very special purpose.

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[1] The Pastoral Care of Families by William Hulme. Published by Abingdon Press, 1962. The quote is taken from page 56.

He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither—whatever he does prospers. Psalm 1:3

The first psalm in the Bible’s book of psalms probably was not written only for fathers, but it is the best description I’ve found of what a godly father does.

This man made a choice at some point in his life to follow the ways of the Lord. He does not agree with corruption or join mockers in their scorn. He delights in God’s law and meditates upon the Lord’s words day and night.

This father is a well-watered tree. A mighty oak. He stands tall and strong through all kinds of storms, stable and wise, enduring the passing seasons. He does not shrivel at bad news, scarcity, or changing times. The Lord has proven himself faithful which means faithfulness becomes a part of this man’s care for his family.

Everything he does prospers. This extends to more than just his finances. Prosperity implies God’s blessing on him, his children, his grandchildren, and anyone else who has had the honor of receiving his teaching and following his example.

The Lord watches over the way of the righteous sheltering him in his shadow just as the spreading branches of the oak tree casts its shade over everything and everyone within its reach. Godly fathers have the Lord’s protection. They teach us how to trust in that provision and they model a lifelong journey of seeking after the Lord.

Do you have a godly father or grandfather in your life? Can you think of times when they have advised you, blessed you, or sheltered you?

As we celebrate our fathers this weekend, tell them about these times. Let them know of the ways God has used them to teach you about faith.

The Lord replied, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” Exodus 4:14.

A troubled Moses in a meeting with the Lord has the rebellion of the people he’s trying to lead fresh in his mind. The Israelites fell into idolatry and coerced Aaron to make for them a golden calf. “As for this fellow Moses who brought us up out of Egypt,” they say in Exodus 32:1, “we don’t know what has happened to him.

Moses spent time on Mount Sinai receiving the Law from God, but down in the camp the people grew restless. As a result of the idolatry of his people, God changes his mind about accompanying them any farther on their journey because of the real possibility of destroying them.

At this point in the story, Moses stands before God one-on-one, and reminds him of the leadership God asks of him. Just the thought of going on alone without God’s presence sinks him in anxiety and fear. If God abandons them, who will fill the role as Moses’ companion and helper? How will Moses learn more about God or grow closer to him if he isn’t there? The biggest fear of all is if God stayed behind, the honor of his favor would no longer rest on Moses or the people.

Moses brings all these concerns to God. In his request for companionship, help, understanding, and favor, God gives one answer: “My Presence will go with you and I will give you rest.”

God himself satisfied Moses’ needs. God would be his companion, offering advice, assistance, and wisdom along with every benefit from having a trusted helper with whom to share the journey. Moses wouldn’t need to go alone. God would provide the support and strength Moses needed to continue leading the Israelites in the wilderness.

God also assured Moses that his presence with him secured special privilege and favor. Exodus 33:12 says that God knows Moses by name and is pleased with him. Moses didn’t need to fear he would no longer be able to meet with God face to face. God wanted to be with him. God wanted to help him, to listen to him, and to share the burden of leadership with him. Just by having God so near so constantly, Moses’ request of knowing more of him would get fulfilled.

In addition to offering his presence, God also promised to give Moses rest. This rest isn’t a night full of good sleep or the guarantee of afternoon naps. The rest God spoke of is an offer of his grace. Rest is a revelation of grace. In God’s rest, Moses and the people would live under God’s protection and guardianship. On a more personal level for Moses, God is telling him what will happen if he is willing to release his cares to God. Moses will find delight and enjoyment in God. Moses needed to hear God say he is pleased with him, and Moses found comfort in God’s declaration of favor.

He can rest in God. He had heard the Lord speak. The time has come to move on from that place at the foot of Mount Sinai and continue the journey. With God present, Moses knows the favor will stay. Their relationship will grow deeper. The events yet to come will correspond to the words God has already spoken.

Do you have worries today of going alone, of needing help, or of making sure you have God’s favor? Bring them to God and hear him say that he is always with you. Maybe you haven’t felt rested in a really long time, and your weariness isn’t the kind that sleep can fix. Let your cares go into the hands of a God who promises you his protection and guidance. In his grace you can find rest.

From heaven the Lord looks down and sees all mankind, from his dwelling place he watches all who live on earth—he who forms the hearts of all, who considers everything they do. Psalm 33:13-15

In an out-of-the-way corner of my yard, a flower with the name bleeding heart blooms among the ferns. This is such a fascinating flower. Each little bloom, resembling a heart, is its own puff. Not flat like the petal of a rose or a tulip, but with dimension from which a tiny white drop grows. The delicate branch of the plant that supports these blooms is similar to a necklace on which little pink jewels dangle.

The bleeding heart blooms for about two weeks out of the year. As soon as warm temperatures arrive, the little jewel-hearts fade to a light purple and fall to the ground. The plant then blends in with the rest of the shaded landscape for the rest of the growing season.

I like to study and ponder the bleeding heart because I find great comfort in the idea that the same God who created the planets, instituted governments, and conquered death is the same God who made the bleeding heart. He delights to design it and take the time for forming the intricate little flowers on their delicate stem. They bloom for his enjoyment and bring him pleasure.

The same God who formed the bleeding heart also forms my heart. He knows the intricacies of my character and how best to support the delicate places. He sees the areas that need growth, and plants me in the best climate for blossoming. In a harsh world of oppressive heat and dry terrains, he tucks me into a sheltered corner where I might rest in his shade.

The Lord takes good care of me. He takes good care of us. The events of our lives do not happen senselessly, but are secretly guided by God who sees and directs all that is taking place. The proof of his work is all around us. We only need to use our eye of faith to see and to pay attention to God’s invisible providence. He is working, always working. A favorite theologian of mine says, “Heaven is not a palace in which God remains idle and indulges in pleasures, but a royal court from which he exercises his government over all parts of the world. If he has erected his throne in the sanctuary of heaven in order to govern the universe, it follows that he doesn’t neglect the affairs of earth, but governs them with the highest reason and wisdom” (Commentary on Psalms 1-35 by John Calvin, translated by Henry Beveridge, p. 548-49).

God reigns from the sanctuary of heaven. He instructs spiritual powers. He determines the weather. He attends our worship services. He fashions delicate little flowers. Nothing or no one is too small to receive his care, and that care brings with it the highest wisdom. We can trust the happenings of our lives to his care. He formed the bleeding heart. He continues to form and shape our hearts. He watches over our lives, our coming and going, now and forevermore.

So God said to Noah, “This is the sign of the covenant I have established between me and all life on earth.” Genesis 9:17

Wednesday afternoon, I sat at the kitchen table with my son Mark, a senior in high school who is a young man ready to explore the world and chase down some big dreams. We talked of the future, his hopes and concerns as he prepares to go to college. Rain fell outside the windows from a gray sky filled with low clouds.

During a break in our conversation, he checked the weather radar and announced, “The sun will be shining in ten minutes.” He left his chair to gather his camera and other gear usually used for chasing storms and said on his way out the door, “I’m going to go chase a rainbow.”

Mark, the aspiring meteorologist, shifted out of our common world of questions and planning to move into the wistful world of adventure and dreaming. He’s on his way to chase a rainbow. I wonder if in that moment my teenage son heard the Lord’s voice more clearly than many of us do in our entire lifetimes. He heard a call to adventure and discovery, places to look for the misty colors in the air, and to journey to the beginning of some new endeavor. The beginning may appear so translucent he may not realize he stands in it until the clouds break and multi-colored sunlight shimmers over him.

Way back at the beginning, in Genesis 9, God extended the same invitation to Noah. “Be a rainbow chaser,” God said in his institution of this new sign. “I establish my covenant with you . . . this is the sign of the covenant . . . for all generations to come. I have set my rainbow in the clouds and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth” (Genesis 9:11-13).

God calls the rainbow his. “I have set my rainbow in the clouds.” He knows its beginning and ending. He knows the span of its stretch, and he knows the meaning of its appearance. The rainbow is a sign of his promise. God promises to preserve our lives, to offer salvation, and to cover us with his protection.

The invitation he offered Noah goes out to us today. “Watch for my sign of the covenant I have made with you,” God says. “I promise to help you and watch over you. I grant you my favor and will spare you from destruction.”

Our journeys of faith are chases after rainbows. Those misty arches of promise fill us with hope and draw us to the place where ethereal vapors bend down to meet our world of question and struggle. Herein lies the adventure. Can we hear the call to live in covenant with a holy God? And when we do, are we ready to chase after him, believing in him as our only source of salvation?

When we find him, all the fullness of his rich promises become ours. Not only have we chased after a rainbow, but we’ve found and claimed it.

“Chase hope. Chase after life, chase my promises. Chase me,” God says.

Teacher, I want to see. Mark 10:51

The journey to Jerusalem included a stop in Jericho where a blind man by the name of Bartimaeus begged along the side of the road. When Jesus passed by, Baritmaeus called out to him asking for mercy.

Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.

Mark introduces Bartimaeus by noting that he was the son of Timaeus. I wonder if Timaeus was well-known in the city of Jericho for Mark to call attention to the father’s name. Would Timaeus appreciate this association? Perhaps he felt shame or disappointment over his son’s condition. Maybe he went about his business gathering wealth and respect on the streets of Jericho refusing to claim as his son a man who sat in the dirt of the roadside begging.

Sons were supposed to lead the family, to learn from the father and carry on his name, to continue in the family business and capitalize on his inheritance. But Bartimaeus, blind, helpless, and begging, was good for nothing, unable to function according to his family’s and the culture’s expectations.

Perhaps no one had ever shown him mercy.

Ironically, the meaning of the name Bartimaeus was “son of honor.” As a blind beggar, he did not bring his father honor. Neither did he receive honor. The only treatment he’d ever known was disrespect and marginalization.

But today, Jesus the Messiah, the Son of David, passed through town. If ever there existed the slightest chance of receiving compassion, this was it.

Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.

In crying out for mercy, Bartimaeus asked Jesus to really and truly see him. Bartimaeus couldn’t see Jesus, but maybe the Rabbi would pause long enough to look his direction and see him. The cry for mercy asked Jesus to care about what he saw, and to please, for heaven’s sake, not heap on him any more harsh treatment.

Bartimaeus got his wish. Jesus calls for him and presents him with the same question he’d asked his disciples in a previous discussion about honor and power. “What do you want me to do for you?”

If Jesus were to ask me such a direct question, I’m not sure I would know how to answer. What do I want Jesus to do for me? If I could have anything in the world straight from the hand of God, what would it be? I doubt that I would understand my own desires and limitations enough to give the question a proper answer.

But Bartimaeus knew what he wanted. First, he wanted Jesus’ compassion. When he knew he’d received it, he made one simple request.

Teacher, I want to see.

He didn’t ask for money or for friends or even for a bath. He asked for the one thing that would make him independent. The one thing that would restore honor to his family and allow him to take his rightful place in Jericho society.

Teacher, I want to see.

Jesus gives it to him, and he heals this man with a word. “Go.” Jesus might have touched him, but instead of applying a mud paste as he’d done for another blind man, Jesus says, “Go.” Find freedom from the beggar’s life, from darkness, from hopelessness.

The man’s faith in Jesus is what healed him. Possibly the first person ever to see him for who he really was, Jesus honors him for his faith. But Bartimaeus didn’t use his new vision and freedom for himself. Instead, he became a disciple, following Jesus along the road, praising God, and telling about what Jesus had done for him.

Teacher, I want to see.

Free us, O Lord, from darkness, and from hopelessness. We ask for your mercy. Work in our hearts until we know our own desires and limitations well enough to come to you in truth.

Grow our faith.

Empower us for testimony. Amen