Do Angels Get Confused?

On Sunday morning during my children's sermon, I talked about angels being messengers from God. As the words were coming out of my mouth, I realized how little I really know about angels... at least according to what the Bible says. I know quite a bit about what the world seems to believe.



I have the images of a beautiful man or woman in white (they are always beautiful according to worldly standards for some reason). Someone who speaks on behalf of God. A guardian who protects us. I always assume that angels have it all together. I don't think much about angels worrying about how they look or whether or not they are making a difference or if they said the right thing. I don't think about angels questioning God or confused about what's going on.

But I wonder... I wonder how the angel Gabriel felt when delivering the words to Mary that God was going to come in human form. Not angelic form... but human form. And that God was going to entrust God's infant self to the young girl confused and perplexed before the angel. What weight did the messenger carry?



What was the angel thinking? To be honest, I find it incredibly comforting that the book of Luke starts off with everyone a bit confused and overwhelmed. Zechariah doubting God. Mary confused and perplexed. And I am guessing that perhaps the angels had a few questions of their own as they delivered their messages. I am comforted because I am often confused and perplexed about what God is doing in this world and why God chose to work through people like you and me. And perhaps such confusing is not a sign of a lack of faith, but instead the first step towards seeing God do a work that is more than anything we could ask or imagine.

Pregnant Expectation

This afternoon I made empanadas for the first time. The particular type I made seemed to take forever to make! Well... just about 2 1/2 hours. Yes, last night I made tamales with the women from Sojourner and today empanadas. I am sure I am just proscratinating important work that needs to be done. But at least it is healthy, useful proscrastinating.

But proscrastinating is not the topic of this post. Rather it is the expectation... the pregnant expectation that accompanies waiting for something like an empanada to be born. Or, more to the point of the Advent season, the literally pregnant expectation of the young Mary for nine months. Mary was given a word from the Lord. A confusing word. A word that she most likely didn't fully understand. Our preacher for this morning at Sojourner, Una Lucey-Lee, did a great job of laying out all the rich details and allusions present in the angel Gabriel's words to Mary. It was all about the rich history of expectation for the Messiah. But Mary accepted the word, this word that she did not fully understand. She submitted herself to the Lord. As Una pointed out, she did not do so passively. She struggled and reasoned. She made a choice. And then she waited. For nine months she waited. For nine months she was pregnant with the word of God growing within her until it finally came forth on Christmas morning.

I must give most of the credit for this post to Una. It is an incredible blessing to be part of a church with such an excellent team of preachers. As a pastor, it is rare that I get to be preached to on Sunday mornings! Una challenged us this morning to consider what we might be waited for during this Advent season. What are the pregnant hopes and dreams within us this season? Perhaps more importantly, what word from the Lord have you received that is waiting pregnantly within you? What promise? What vision? What hope for you or for the world?

May we have the grace of Mary as we wait for the Word of God to be birthed through us this Advent season.

Pretty Garbage

So... this is a bit less tied to the Advent text for the week, but it is what I was thinking about today. This morning we awoke to the first snowfall of the year. It was beautiful! My favorite kind of snow. The kind that sticks to everything. It is actually quite odd that we associate snow with Christmas given where Jesus' birth took place. But, still...

Snow can make anything look beautiful. Even the alley behind my house. Even the garbage cans lining the streets. Snow covers everything with a clean blanket that hides all the dents and scars and garbage in the world. At least for a little while.

We use the language of being made "as white as snow" to talk about being forgiven by God and made holy. I realize that "whiteness" is a loaded concept in our society and that all to often people connect this idea with the idea of being "white" or "caucasian." The fact of the matter is, though, we are all shades of brown, orange, green, red... God does not make us all "white." God does, however, make us as clean as fresh fallen snow.

But... I was thinking today as I was looking at my beautiful snow covered trash cans, that we often settle for a blanket of snow in our lives. We like God to just cover up the garbage. We like to look pretty to ourselves, to the church, and to the world. But God desires to do something more in our lives. God desires to make us new creatures, forgiven, holy, justified. And for that, God chose to become one of us. That is the gift that began with Jesus birth.

Holding Onto the Holy

Luke 1:35... "therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God."

And you thought raising your kids was a challenge! A child holy from birth. Not just innocent. Not just perfect in the sight of their parents. But really... truly perfect. When the child Jesus wanders away from Mary and Joseph during a festival in Jerusalem and heads for the temple, what could they say? Mary and Joseph present a united front and Jesus just goes around them to a heavenly authority.

What type of person did Mary have to be? What kind of courage? What kind of self-worth? To be able to fully love her child while holding him loosely?
And who is this God of ours? Fully embodied in an innocent baby. Willing to hold on to divinity so loosely. Willing to set aside power for love?

To love what is holy... that is a challenge. To give yourself fully to one who will always be better, always be stronger, always be more perfect. To love someone whom you can only hold onto loosely.

Mary was not the only one called to love what is holy. We, too, are called to love the holy Christ child. We, too, are called to love in a way that holds others loosely while giving ourselves fully. We are to be able to love knowing that God is always present in the relationship, always a higher power that can be called upon at any moment. To love what is holy... that is the challenge of Christmas.

Odd Greetings?

Luke 1:28-29 "And he (Gabriel) came to her and said, 'Greetings favored one! The Lord is with you.' But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be."

I started receiving Christmas cards this week. Of course the first included a plea for money from my college alma mater and the second was from my alderwoman. None of them have been particularly striking so far, but every once in a while I get a card that I just can't seem to figure out at all. What in the world were they trying to communicate when they picked this?

Surprisingly, this is a bit how Mary felt about the angel's greeting. She was perplexed and had to think about what the words meant. Yet the greeting, at least to me, doesn't seem that strange. In many churches, worship begins with the phrase, "The Lord is with you," and responded to with "And also with you." We assume that God is with us always and everywhere. Or at least that is what we proclaim on Sunday mornings, even if we seem to forget it during much of the week. I forget, sometimes, just how radical an idea it is that God is with us. And how much more radical it might have been for Mary. Think about the previous verses. Zechariah is a priest, one of the few people in all of Israel designated to serve in the sanctuary of the temple. One of the few people allowed to stand in God's presence. Before Christ's death on the cross, the tearing of the curtain in the temple, it was assumed that God was not always with us. At least not in the way we understand it. God was on top of the mountain, or in the inner sanctum of the temple, or present to only a few special chosen people... to the prophets and perhaps a king or two. God was not with the ordinary. It was too dangerous for God to be present all the time. The holiness would be overwhelming. It could kill you.

And yet, the angel tells the young Mary that God is with her. Not only is God with her, the power of the Most High will overshadow her. Holiness will dwell within her. And from now on, holiness will dwell with each of us.

Each season God seems to bring to mind different themes as I write these reflections. This Advent it seems to be all about the reality of God's presence with us. The overwhelming sense of the holy walking with humanity. A sense not only that God came down, but that we are more than mere flesh and blood. That there is a holiness to humanity created in God's image as we were.

God is with you this Advent season. God is with you, O favored one. May it cause us to ponder as Mary did.

(By the way, as a side note... by pop-music association for the day was Adam Ant's Goody Two Shoes... don't you just think of John the Baptist when you here the phrase "Don't drink. Don't smoke. What do you do?")

Knit Together

Funny things happen when you are thinking about the days Advent text and listening to classic rock at the same time. Yesterday as I was pondering the announcement of Jesus birth to Mary by the angel Gabriel, the radio suddenly began blasting Mannfred Mann's "Blinded by the Light." Now, of course, the song is about a young woman on a drug trip. Not a good comparison to our fair Mary. And yet... I sometimes think people when people are using drugs (or drinking or doing extreme sports or extreme worship) they are seeking exactly what Mary experienced: an encounter with God, something otherworldly and overwhelming to the senses. And yet an encounter with God is not something that we can manufacture. It comes unexpectedly...

But of course that has nothing to do with today's photo. As you may know from following my blog in the past, I tend to take quite a lot of pictures of the sculptures lining McCormick Avenue. This particular one is by Andy Zimmerman. It is supposed to be the inside of a plant, but it made me think of what was happening in Mary's body as the angel announced that she would conceive a child. Something forming in her womb. Something being knit together. A seed developing. It is a bit overwhelming to consider. God did not just plant a tiny human version of God in Mary's womb. Instead, God knit God's self together with Mary. God became human and united with humanity in a deeply profound and physical way.

God may not dwell in each of us exactly the way God dwelled in Mary, but I wonder if the Holy Spirit does not knit itself into our bodies in the same way the seed of a child knits itself into its mother's womb. The Holy Spirit does not just dwell in us in the same way a person dwells in a house. Rather, the Holy Spirit becomes one with us, knits into us, unites with us. Conception takes place. A new creation is born. As I am sure was the case with Mary, and I am guessing is the case when a woman realizes she is pregnant, it is both terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. To be that close and connected with someone... to be that close to God. This Advent, may we open ourselves up to the God who has already drawn near to us, who dwells with us, and is knit into our very beings.

The Light to Come

For those of you who pay attention to these things, you may have noticed that I am not following the lectionary texts this year. Our church was working through the parables in Luke (the lectionary gospel readings for most of the fall) and it felt appropriate after struggling through their meanings to return to the beginning. So, for Lent I'll be following the texts we'll be using at Sojourner Covenant Church from the first chapters of Luke throughout this season. This past Sunday we focused on the promise of John's birth to Zechariah in Luke 1:1-25. This Sunday we'll be reading from Luke 1:26-38, the announcement of Jesus' birth to Mary.

My reflections for this particular day bridge both stories... the promise of a child. Two children really. One a long awaited answer to prayer. The other an answer to prayer before its time. God can be so frustrating like that. Moving too early or waiting too long. If only the world operated in our timing... And if only the things we hoped for turned out just like we pictured them... I suppose what struck me most today from the readings was the phrase from Luke 1:14-15: "You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord." It seems obvious at first. Of course Zechariah and Elizabeth will be ecstatic having a child after all these years of waiting. Of course the entire community will rejoice, knowing that the shame has been removed, that their priest has been justified. And yet, that is not the reason for the rejoicing. Instead, they will rejoice because John will be "great in the sight of the Lord." If I could just manage to be joyful in the things of God...

To be honest, it terrifies me to think about having a child who will be "great in the sight of the Lord." Such a child is not my own. I cannot protect such a child. Such a child will be different from others, will likely be a bit of an outsider. Such a child may face persecution. Such a child may suffer. How in the world were Zechariah and Mary able to rejoice at the news they were receiving? That their children would walk difficult paths and face much suffering?

We say that to walk with God is to be in the safest place possible. We profess that a life of faith and witness is the highest ideal. But do we really believe it? And are we willing to seek that for our children? This Advent season, will you rejoice in those who are becoming great in the sight of the Lord?

(By the way... thank you to Ileana Garcia-Soto for creating this beautiful manger that sits in front of the Bethlehem scene that will grace the altar at Sojourner throughout this season.)

A Terrifying Presence

What does an angel of the Lord look like? What in the world did Zechariah see as he stood in the sanctuary of the Lord? What is it that made him terrified and overwhelmed with fear (Luke 1:13)? Advent begins with Zechariah confronted with something beyond his experience or understanding. An angel of the Lord standing before him. And then, things get even more terrifying. The angel promises something that is impossible, something that is outside the realm of human possibility, something beyond hope... And that, perhaps, is the most terrifying part of all. Zechariah is asked to hope again. Hope for something he had been longing for all his life but had most likely given up on.

The first Sunday of Advent asks us to hope. We tend to forget that hope can be a terrifying act, one that involves tremendous risk, putting your heart on the line, testing your faith and trust in God. In the Bible, hope is not just wishful thinking, or positive thinking, or some denial of the trials of life. Instead, hope is an act of faith. Hope is a clinging to the promises of God. Hope is risking a belief that what God has promised will come to pass despite all evidence to the contrary.

What do you need to risk hoping for this Advent season? What promise of God to the world do you need to be reminded of? What do you need to cling to once again? This Advent season, may God prepare your hearts again to receive the hope of the world.

Clearing A Path for Christmas

I spent the first day of Advent hiking along the Natchez Trail in Nashville, TN with my family. The trail was well cleared in some areas with trees and logs freshly cut down laying along the side of the trail. Other sections were steep and rocky and we often slipped and stumbled along the way. This was partly due to the nature of the trail and partly due to the fact that I was not necessarily wearing the best hiking shoes.

Walking along the trail, I thought a lot about this Advent season. In particular, I thought about the text for this Sunday from the first chapter of Luke: the announcement of the birth of John the Baptist, the one who prepared the way for Christ. How prepared am I for the birth of Christ again during this Christmas season? What logs are lying across the road of my life right now? What needs to be cleared away? What are the things getting between me and God? Am I jealous? Greedy? Is there sin in my life? Have I stopped praying regularly? How can I once again listen to John the Baptist this Advent season and prepare a path for Christ in my life again?

Or perhaps the trail is simply rocky. There are bumps and slippery spots along the road of life. These are not simply trees that have fallen across the road and can be cleared away. These are the realities of life and I simply need good walking shoes. I need to be reading scripture, praying, spending time in worship and community, serving, giving, sharing. I need to prepare my heart to receive Christ even along the rocky path of life.

How will the paths in your life be made straight this Advent season? What logs do you need to God to clear from your life? Or what do you need to do to put on your hiking shoes?

Welcome, once again, to another season of Advent... I am planning on posting and blogging each day as part of clearing the logs in my own life. I hope they will help you do the same.

The Resurrection

The Resurrection
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

Well, it is my last post for the Lenten season. A celebration of Easter and resurrection. The spring flowers reaching up to the sky. A reorientation of our hearts minds away from the sin and sorrow of Lent to the joy and light of Easter.

Yet it is not right to say that the season of Easter is all about looking up. Rather, it is about looking into the light. It is not about looking away from this world up to the heavens. Rather it is about bringing heaven down to us. It is not about escape, but about reorientation and a recognition that we are a part of something bigger than we can imagine. Perhaps that is what is best captures by this picture. Not an image of escape, but the joy of being part of something larger, of being part of the kingdom of God. The kingdom of God is real! Christ is risen. He is risen indeed.

I am of course writing this just before midnight, trying to finish my first Easter sermon for tomorrow. I really do hope that resurrection comes in the morning!

Waiting for Sunday

Waiting for Sunday
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

This is the way the church will look tomorrow, Holy Saturday. Empty. Waiting. And by Sunday it will be filled with light and flowers and the laughter of a redeemed people.

We are lucky to be waiting for something. Waiting is connected with hope, something few of the disciples had. The three woman at the cross had come to finish preparing Jesus for burial. They were not waiting for the resurrection. Yet, they are faithful in following Jesus... even if that Jesus was gone. They offered their service to him, and in the midst they were confronted with a message from God.

We know about the resurrection. How much more should we be faithful in our service to the Lord?

The Light of Christ

The Light of Christ
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

Good Friday... what kind of Good are we talking about? I actually hate the name. I realize that it is Good because it is part of the fulfillment of the Good News. I realize that it is Good because of what happens afterwards. But it doesn't feel that good to me. Not even eat your vegetables kind of good.

I really am a Good Friday person... mostly because I seem to be able to see so much of the sin and yuckiness in the world and for some reason I still have faith... On some days just a tentative thread of hope, but hope nonetheless. The light never seems to go out. To be honest, on some days I wish it would. Hanging on to a thread is exhausting! And yet, what would it mean to drop into the real darkness?

Now, having said all of this, I realize that my experience of sin is minimal compared to so many people in this world. What can I say to that? Only to keep holding on. I know it is painful. I'm sure your pain is more than I can imagine. But the pain means that you are alive and that you still have a bit of hope. Pain is not the same as sin. In face, pain is often a sign of life.

Good Friday... may our faith deepen as we allow ourselves to face squarely the events of that day. God will hold on to us. That thread is stronger than we imagine and at the end Christ is holding on to us.

The Cup

The Cup
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

Yesterday the table. Today the cup.

The cup represents so many different things. "Take this cup from me," Jesus says. Even Jesus feeling a need for his suffering to be relieved. And even Jesus hearing a "No. There is another way" answer to his prayer. How does the saying go? God always answers prayers, just not the way we like. I have always hated that saying, but today I am reminded that Jesus understands. He felt the same way in Gethsemane.

The cup of the new covenant. "A new command I give you," says Jesus, "to love one another." It doesn't seem like such a new commandment to me. The command to love seems to have been there all along. What does it mean that the covenant was new? Was it new and improved? Or brand new out of nothing? It seems to be that the concept of a new covenant was for our benefit. It wasn't really new to God. Yet God saw how entangled our understanding of the Old Covenant had become with our sinfulness and the sinful structures of our world. And God decided to untangle it. A new covenant. Sometimes I wish God would untangle us again.

A shared cup. Jesus passes the cup to his disciples, despite their coming betrayal. A cup of grace and mercy. If only our communion cups were full of the same grace. We know just as well as Jesus that people are flawed, that we sin and hurt one another. Can we extend the same grace?

Dining with the Enemy

Table for Two
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

What a confusing few days! Jesus parades into Jerusalem, the crowds calling him the next king. He storms into the temple courtyard and begins turning over the tables. So, Jesus is finally showing his power! Finally claiming his authority. Finally leading!

Um... Jesus... what are you doing down there washing my feet? What do you mean you are going to suffer? What is all this talk about death? What do you mean one of us is going to betray you?

Sitting around the dinner table, Jesus reveals that one of the disciples will betray him. I find the response rather interesting. Like a group of school children, Peter leans over to John and whispers, "You ask him." And John leans over to Jesus and whispers, "Tell us who it is." I suppose they were so trusting of one another that they could hardly believe one of their own would betray Jesus. What I don't understand is why they just let it happen. Jesus shows everyone it is Judas. Hands a piece of bread right to him (John 13.26). Why didn't the disciples grab him at that moment? Did they not believe Jesus?

Betrayal within the community of faith is so hard to deal with. We want to believe the best in each other. We want to trust one another. And of course, we must strive for that. But we cannot sit silently when sin is revealed. We cannot live in denial. In particular, I think of the incidents of domestic violence and child abuse where our desire to have faith in one another leads us to ignore the proof that something is going wrong here.

But one must also ask what happened with Judas. Why did he, one of the twelve, betray Jesus? Was it foreordained? Did Jesus know every day of their journey together that Judas would hand him over to his death? Why would Jesus choose such a disciple? It causes me to wonder if I would ever betray Jesus like that. But more often, it reminds me of God's grace. God chooses even the sinners among us (which, really, is everyone) to be God's disciples. Perhaps God knows that acts of betrayal are in our future, but God allows for freewill, the possibility of repentance, the hope of forgiveness. God sees the image of God in each one of us, all of God's creation, and loves us immensely. So much so that God clings in relationship to us even when we betray. What amazing grace!

All the Leaves Are Brown...

Discarded Leaves
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

I am sorry for missing Saturday's post. Unfortunately I was up quite late writing a Palm Sunday Sermon... I asked whether the worship on Palm Sunday was real worship since all the crowd gathered would scatter and abandon Jesus within the week. I challenged us to consider if we would scatter as well, or would we be willing to follow Jesus to Jerusalem? Would be willing to walk into centers of power and speak truth? Would we be willing to go with Jesus into the temple courtyard and overturn the tables? Are we willing to critique the sins within our own religious institutions? And are we willing to walk with Jesus to the cross, giving up our privilege and our place in the system no matter what the consequences?

While this is not a Palm leaf, it reminds me of what it might have been like the morning after Palm Sunday. Probably a few jackets left behind, lying on the ground, with a hoof print or two on them. Leaves and branches scattered around left to wither and die. And over the next few days the faith of the people would also begin to wither. They would lose their connection to the true vine and begin to turn brown and brittle. Did such lack of faith need to happen? Is there any connection to Jesus' words that "unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." (John 12:24) Our we willing to let our false worship die so that we might come to worship the true God?

You, too?

You, too?
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

So... when you are wandering around your house at 11:00 pm looking for a picture, you sometimes have to get a little creative. I knew what I wanted to write about, but how to find a picture to express it?

I have been thinking a lot about the praise frenzy taking place on Palm Sunday and I have wondered if I would have ever joined in. As you may notice from my reflections, I tend to be more of a Good Friday girl. Lent fits my reflective, pensive, sometimes downright depressing self. I tend look at the Palm Sunday people and say, "Well, they won't last... Just wait until the hard stuff comes along." And in many ways I would be right. Those who celebrated Jesus were gone by the end of the week. But does that mean God thought any less of their worship?

The truth is, Jesus orchestrated Palm Sunday. It was a time for worship. Worship was the appropriate response and when the Pharisee's tried to reign it in and quiet everybody down, Jesus told them to back off. You can try to stop it, but if you do so, the rocks will just start crying out!

Yes, a rock concert. U2. A weak connection. I know. But...
I was on Soldier Field for the U2 concert last year. I tried to scream and shout and let myself get caught up in the frenzy and excitement, but I couldn't. Okay, while a few friends might disagree with me, I am under no illusions that Bono is Jesus. But my fear of celebrating and praising has little to do with that. It is about a fear of losing control, of looking silly, of being wrong. It keeps me from expressing true joy or real love or even deep sorrow or raging anger.

All this to say... while the disciples on Palm Sunday would eventually fall away, in the moment, at that moment, when Jesus chose to reveal himself as the anointed one, the Messiah, the king, they got it right. The frenzied waving of branches. The shouting and chanting. The parade into Jerusalem. These were all appropriate responses in the presence of Christ. My my faith grow in such a way that I allow myself to enter into similar moments of pure worship, forgetful of myself and focusing only on God.

Blowing in the Wind

Blowing in the Wind
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

The wind was howling today, rocking my car from side to side as I stopped at a light, whipping the tree branches around the little chapel at Garrett.

I wonder if the wind was blowing on Palm Sunday? There is no mention of it, but for some reason I think perhaps it was. There is this sense that something different is happening. God is moving in mysterious ways. The energy is so palpable that the rocks might start praising God.

There is some recent research on Christ's triumphal entry that suggests that while Jesus was riding in on his little donkey through the backdoor, Pilate was parading in on a great warhorse through the front gate of Jerusalem. It seems in the movies that when the little guy goes up against the big guy, the wind seems to start blowing announcing a force beyond our understanding. I imagine the wind moving through the trees, perhaps even howling through the gates of the city letting us know that the Holy Spirit was present and that God was preparing a mighty work on that day. God was doing something we couldn't quite see and didn't quite understand, but we recognized the significance nonetheless.

Where might the wind be howling these days? Where might God be moving? Where might Jesus be riding in the backdoor challenging the might of oppressive structures and powerful enemies? And will I rejoice at its coming?

Was it All A Mistake?

With Boughs in Hand
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

"The Lord is God, and he has made his light shine upon us. With bough in hand, join in the festal procession up to the horns of the altar." (Psalm 118:27)

Were the people wrong in the celebration of Jesus on Palm Sunday? Were they all misguided? Did their lack of faith on Good Friday mean they didn't truly believe on Palm Sunday? Are we allowed to praise God even when our faith is not exactly pure? Can we worship on Sunday even though we often don't make it faithfully all the way to Friday?

I have been reading ecclesiology (the study of the church) lately in preparation for a course I'm teaching at Garrett. This week we'll be discussing the marks of the church: one, holy, catholic, and apostolic. The "holiness" of the church always gets me. Clearly the church has not lived up to its reputation for holiness. And yet somehow we are still holy. The holiness of the church, much like the righteousness of each individual, is not grounded in our own ability. Rather, the church is holy because God is present. And God is present even when sin is present... as was evidenced by Christ's walk to Jerusalem.

The Palm Sunday parade was a moment of pure worship. In Luke 19, Jesus says that if the crowd had remained silent the rocks would have cried out. Jesus was revealing who he was as God's own son bringing the kingdom. And worship was the proper response. And in that moment of worship, perhaps the crowd was transformed a bit. Coming into contact with the kingdom can do that to a person. May our worship on Sunday mornings, though not perfect, be moments when we glimpse the kingdom, when we recognize the holiness of God in our midst, and when we are transformed a little. So that we might bring a bit of the holiness with us into the world.

A Thorny Path

A Thorny Path
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

In another few months, this will be a beautiful rose lined walkway... but for now it is a walkway lined with thorns. Bushes and branches covered with inch long thorns that grab at you if you wander too close to the edge. That cut and scrape and leave a mark on your skin.

The road into Jerusalem seemed to be lined with Palm branches as Jesus arrived, but Jesus knew that what he was really walking into. Within days a crown of thorns would be shoved on his head. Not quite the crown that was anticipated on Palm Sunday. The crowd that once praised him was nowhere to be found. He was left alone to face his accusers. Abandoned. Forsaken.

I don't really want to follow down this path. I want to wait until the roses bloom. I want to wait for the beauty to come. The sweet fragrance. The stunning colors. Yet, as Jesus taught us, sometimes we must walk a thorny path in order to reach God's glory. Will I have the courage to follow?

Enter the Gate

Open the Gate
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

"Open for me the gate of righteousness; I will enter and give thanks to the Lord. This is the gate of the Lord through which the righteous may enter." (Psalm 118:19-20).

Seeing as this particular gate leads into my backyard, it is definitely not a gate of righteousness. I mean, I might be somewhat righteous. It depends on who you are comparing me to. And I am certainly a bit self-righteous at times. I'm an oldest child. What can you expect? But deep in my core, I know that I am not really righteous. I know my own sinful thoughts and actions. This is not the gate for me. I can't enter. Only the righteous can enter.

But, Lord, if you open the gate, I will enter. I will enter and give thanks. I will enter not because I am righteous, but because you are. And in coming to earth in the form of a human being, you have made it possible for this flesh to take on righteousness. Not our own, but your righteousness dwelling within this body, the Holy Spirit uniting us with the Triune God.

I will enter and give thanks.

Seeking Suffering

The Crucified One
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

The closer we get to Good Friday, the more I am confronted with the cost of discipleship. And the grace of God.
Paul's faith always challenges me. In Philippians 3:4-14, he talks of all the things in this world that give him power and prestige... and his willingness to give them all up for the sake of Christ. Not just for the sake of Christ, but so that he might share in Christ's sufferings.
As with all texts about suffering, context is important. Paul is righting from a position of power. He is not one of the least of these seeking to give up even more. The least already share in Christ's sufferings. Paul is talking about willingly setting aside privilege.
Ugh... I am so invested in trying to survive in this life. I am worried about finding a permanent job, health insurance, retirement. Yes, all these things are important, but what am I... and we as a society... willing to compromise in order to achieve it. We seem to be willing to compromise quite a bit... allowing there to be a strata of society who are living below the poverty line and entire countries where few people have enough resources to thrive in life.
Perhaps we are back to those traditional practices of Lent... what are we willing to give up for God? And for those God loves?

Smelly Feet???

Feet
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

The gospel text tells the story of Mary anointing the feet of Jesus as an act of worship that forshadowed his coming death.
Mary takes one of the most expensive items in her house and pours it out on Jesus' feet. Not on his head. Not on his hands. Was it a way of washing his feet? A symbolic baptism?
I am struggling with how to express what i am thinking about all this. Mary makes sacred the least sacred part of Jesus. She makes sacred that very human part of Jesus, the feet that are needed to walk in the world when one gives up their divine omnipresence. She makes sacred something so practical. Feet, for the most part, don't do anything meaningful or artistic. They bear our way. They transport us. Now, a soccer player might agree with that last statement... but still.
Can we recognize the sacred in the very ordinary parts of our lives? Can we understand that in Christ God stepped into our very ordinary way of being? And in doing so gave it a sacred qualtiy?

Stuck in the Kitchen... Again

Stuck in the Kitchen
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

The gospel text for this week focuses on Mary's anointing of Jesus with expensive perfume in John 12:1-8. It is a beautiful story of Mary's sacrificial worship of Jesus pointing towards his coming death.

I, however, was struck today by vs.2 where Martha is again in the kitchen serving the meal. Many of us know the story of Mary and Martha from Luke 10 where Martha is rebuked for carrying about trivial matters like cooking and cleaning while Mary is praised for stopping all that she is doing to kneel at Jesus feet. The John text for today comes later in the story. This same Martha, rebuked for her triviality, has since been one of the only ones to proclaim Jesus as the Messiah (John 11), a statement of faith in the face of the death of her brother, Lazarus.

I am of two minds about this text. I am frustrated that Martha is still in the kitchen serving while Lazarus lounges at the table with Jesus. But, I am also encouraged. A relationship with Jesus does not always mean an otherworldly spirituality. It can manifest itself in the day to day chores of our lives. While Mary is pouring out expensive perfume, Martha is modeling what it means to serve. Both worship and service are integral to the kingdom.

Sowing Seeds in Sorrow

Seeds to Sow
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

The Psalm for this week is Psalm 126 ends with the following words of encouragement... "Those who go out weeping carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy carrying sheaves." What I love about these words is the grace allowed to us when we are in the midst of sorrow and struggles. We do not need strong oak trees of faith at these times. Rather, we simply need to carry with us the small seeds of faith, the tiniest glimmer of hope. "Forget Me Nots" seem like such an appropriate seed to imagine carrying around, for our hope is grounded in our memory of what God has done for us, of God's love for us through the work of Jesus and the presence of the Holy Spirit. Now, we are not to simply cling to these seeds or stuff them in our pockets. Rather, we are to sow them, to offer what little hope we have to the world around us. Hope is not something to hoard and grasp. Rather, in sharing it, it multiplies and grows.
As Christ drew near to Jerusalem, the disciples lost much of their faith, but they held on to a glimmer, a small seed. And that small seed was enough to sustain them through the dark days ahead. And more importantly, that seed was enough to give them eyes to see the miraculous work of the resurrection.

God Drew Out the Horses

God Drew Out the Horses
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

The passage from Isaiah (43:16-21) recalls the story of the Exodus. God makes a way and draws out the horses and the chariots pursuing the Israelites as they flee from the Egyptians.

Perhaps this isn't the most encouraging picture. The horses did not survive God's great deliverance of Israel. And today I need the message of God's deliverance. I am the new interim pastor of a church that has been through a rough time. We need to know that God can make a way where there seems to be no other way. I suppose Lent is the greatest example of God making a way where there is no other way. Not through the desert or through the sea. God made a way through death itself.

Verse 19 is a bit simplistic... "Forget the former things. Do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing. Now it springs up. Do you not see it?" And yet... that is what I need right now. I need to see whatever new thing God is doing. I need to have the eyes to see it springing up in our midst. I trust that it is there because we have a God who does new things, who makes new ways, who forms us into new creations.

My Way

Make Way
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

The Old Testament text for this week is Isaiah 43:16-21. It begins with "This is what the Lord says, the Lord how made a path through the sea, a path through the mighty waters..." Verse 19 speaks of a path in the desert and streams in a dry land. God as the way maker, the path layer, the forger, the trailblazer.

It is a beautiful image, the God who makes a way when there is no other way. The God of infinite possibilities. The God who directs and guides. The God who rescues.

Yet, my mind did not go there today. Instead, as I drove down the road, along the path that we have created next to a river winding through Skokie, Illinois, I am reminded of how we have abused this image of God as the way maker. Perhaps I am thinking of Soong Chan Rah's sermon at our church yesterday where he pointed out how American cars all seem to have names tied to action and adventure like the Explorer and the Trailblazer. I am also thinking of my short year as a geotechnical engineer where I would go out into the beautiful rolling hills in Northern California and test the soil so that some developer could flatten it all to make a cookie cutter housing development.

As children of God, created in God's image, we too are to be way makers. We are to make ways of justice, peace, and love in this world. We are to lay the streets and foundations of the kingdom of God. Instead, we have made a way where there was no way... or, more to the point, we have made ways on top of ways that already existed. Instead of following the natural pathways of streams and valleys, we cut through rock and redirect currents believing that we should be able to go straight regardless of what nature is telling us. Instead of recognizing the paths of the people who lived on the soil of the United States before we arrived, we paved over them and laid railroad tracks through them, believing that ours were the only true paths. We have become a nation of competitors who make their own paths walking over others to get to the top, relying on the labor of those we have rendered invisible, denying the pathways of those of a different color, language, or gender.

Forgive the tirade, but those are the thoughts that went through my mind as a sat at the stop light and took this picture. The image of God as the path layer, the way maker, is a beautiful one, but our interpretation of that image has, at times, been anything but beautiful. How can we become way makers who reflect the kingdom?

A Photoshopped Creation?

New Creation
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

I took my picture early today. The new shoots of crocuses, daffodils, and tulips sprouting up in the rain along the side of the house. Of course, when I finally looked at them this evening, I realized they were all blurry. All of them. Seriously. So, I played around with one of the images on iPhoto. And voila, a new creation.

The epistle lesson for this week tells us we are new creations (2 Corin. 5.17) and I have always struggled with what that means. I certainly don't feel like much of a new creation these days. I am definitely an aging creation with more grey hairs and wrinkle appearing everyday. I am certainly didn't lose all my insecurities and inadequacies when I came to faith. I am still a clay jar full of cracks and fissures. Thankfully Paul tells us a few verses earlier that these clay jars can hold the treasure of God's glory (2 Corin. 4.7). So how are we new creations?

I wonder if our newness isn't somehow related to the systems and structures I wrote about yesterday? The passage comes in the midst of Paul's discussion of reconciliation and the fact that in Christ we no longer see people from a human point of view. Maybe the newness has something to do with seeing ourselves and others in a new way, no longer seeing each other through web of stereotypes and oppressive cultural histories that we are all a part of. Perhaps we are to recognize that we are new creations because we are to challenge these systems as agents of reconciliation and are to allow others to be defined as brothers and sisters in Christ. We are to be something new in this world, kingdom people, ambassadors for Christ. We are to be people filled with the new life of the Spirit. In Christ we are a new creation. The old has gone. The new has come!

A Cog in A Machine?

A Cog in A Machine?
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

Earlier this week I was reading through some posts on The Text this Week's facebook page and one of the pastors mentioned they were going to preach on the systems issues that were central to the prodigal son story in Luke 15. Throughout the week I've been mulling this over. We come down so hard on both the younger brother who squanders his inheritance and the older brother who resents his brother's return. Both, however, were stuck in unfair systems of inheritance which placed all the responsibility for the continuation of the family business in the hand of the older brother. He was stuck to the land which he would inherit and the responsibility of running it all his life. The younger son had a freedom he envied! And yet the younger son would be left in some ways to fend for himself with only a small inheritance and no land to provide any security. He would always be at the mercy of his older brother for protection. Both were stuck. Both wanted to escape. But as in most cases where their are unfair structures in place, rather than trying to change the system, they simply blamed one another.
In this interpretation of the parable, it is difficult to see God in the role of the Father who perpetuates an unjust system. Rather, the Father becomes the system itself that welcomes back with open arms after we have tried to make it on our own.
But then, where is God in the midst of unfair systems and structures? It is difficult to find a clear answer in this parable. And it is often difficult to find God when you are stuck in the midst of structures that overtime seem to take on a life of their own. However, Jesus, too, was stuck in just such a system. One that would eventually lead him to his death. And yet Jesus' death did not signal the victory of the system, rather it signified the resurrection of an entirely new way of being apart from any sinful structure. A way of life that was full of life and glory.

The Shepherd

The Shepherd
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

Sorry about missing last night! I took the picture during a break in the theology class I teach and never got to posting it last night.

The photo itself is a mixing of metaphors... or at least parables. The gospel text for this week is the story of the prodigal and his brother from Luke 15:11-32. In the text, a young man walks away from his family, squanders his inheritance in decadent living, and then tries to put his life back together. Eventually he comes, on his knees, fully repentant, back to his father. The father welcomes him with open arms.

The statue represents the story of the lost sheep. When a sheep goes wandering off, loses its way, Jesus, the great shepherd, searches tirelessly for the little sheep. And eventually carries the sheep back into the fold.

So which is it? When we stray from God, does God leave us to the consequences of our decisions? Or does God search for us tirelessly until God can carry us back home? I think perhaps it is a bit of both. We can be a bit like sheep at times, wandering in the world, following after the next green patch of grass, moving step by step further away from God until we have lost our way. But we can also be like the prodigal, who makes an intentional choice to walk in the other direction and turn his back on all he has learned from his family. In each case, God desperately wants us back. But God is a good parent and knows that some times we have to want to come back as well.

My Hiding Place

My Hiding Place
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

"You are my hiding place; and you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance," says the psalmist (32:7).
I am not sure this spot would make that great of a hiding place. Sure, you could burrow deep in the grass, but this particular grass is sharp and the ground is wet. To crawl in there would leave you cut and covered in mud.
Is it all right if I suggest that sometimes I feel the same way when I try to rely on God as my hiding place? On the outside I often feel a bit bruised and battered. In fact, trouble still seems to find me on a regular basis. Yet within me is a place that cannot be touched. A place where God is present, where my heart and mind can be protected, where the image of God within me is preserved. Perhaps the Psalmist had it a bit mixed up. Perhaps God is not our hiding place. Perhaps we are God's hiding place. Perhaps God is dwelling deep within us. Of course, if God is dwelling within us, that is not something to hide, is it. Rather, it is a light that is to shine on the whole world. Hidden in the bright light of God's glory. It would be just like God to do something like that.

I Kept Silent

I Kept Silent
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

There are various kinds of silence associated with Lent. There is the silence of prayer and meditation. There is the silence that is part of contemplation and reflection on the depth of Christ's suffering that is so much a part of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. There is the silence of God when Jesus prayed in the garden and died on the cross. And the seeming silence of God between Good Friday and Easter. There is the silence of the crowds who watched the injustice taking place against Jesus. The silence of the disciples who denied him. The silence of Judas who failed to confess his sin.

I think of the weight Judas must have carried after he had betrayed his friend, a weight that would eventually drive him to take his own life. This is the silence that the Psalm seems to address this week.

Psalm 32:3-5 says, "When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer. Then I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, 'I will confess my transgressions to the Lord' -- and you forgave the guilt of my sin."

God does not want us to remain silent and to carry such a heavy burden. He does not want us to suffer Judas' fate. Lent is a time for silence, but it is also a time to speak out, to acknowledge our sins, and to receive the forgiveness of the Lord.

Unleavened Bread?

Unleavened Bread?
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

Unleavened bread? I thought pita was unleavened, but no... there is yeast in it. Still, today it will represent unleavened bread.
Before I reflect, I should apologize for yesterday. It was a very long week and after preaching and leading the service on Sunday morning, I needed to take the rest of the day off. A sabbath of sorts... There is a possibility that this will be regular practice. We'll see.

But for now, we celebrate with the Egyptians in Joshua 5:9-12. They've finally entered the promised land. They've celebrated the passover once again. Remembering where they came from. And they are finally through with manna. They get to eat the produce of the land, unleavened bread and roasted grain. I need to ponder why this text in the midst of Lent. A celebration of God's deliverance. It seems more of an Easter text to me. It reminds us in the midst of Lent that Jesus is the bread of life. That God does deliver. That Lent is a movement through suffering to celebration.

She Sells Seashells

Seashells
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

I doubt the Israelites had time to collect seashells as they passed through the Red Sea... (okay, for all you scholars, the Reed Sea... and I know, not really a sea). But the passage in Corinthians for this day (10:1-13) recounts the story of Israel's escape from Egypt, the passing through the Red Sea, eating manna in the wilderness, and drinking water from a rock. And reminds us that these are our ancestors. And that we have not strayed far from the family tree. Though, like Israel, we may have strayed far from God. Though God fed them and led them and cared for them, the Israelites disobeyed God and few of them ever made it out of the wilderness.

Paul's point is not to judge the story of the Israelites. Rather, it is to remind us that even though we might be chosen by God, we are always prone to temptation. We should never grow overconfident in our own righteousness. Rather, we must always check ourselves. The Corinthians had grown over confident. They thought they had been specially chosen by God and that had given them license to do whatever they wanted. Paul reminds us that even when we are at our most confident spiritually, we need to check ourselves.

If a Tower falls in Siloam...

A Tower
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

The gospel text for this week (Luke 13:1-9) begins with the crowd asking Jesus about those who suffered under Pontius Pilate. They seemed to wonder if those who had suffered were more guilty than others. It is not surprising that Jesus' response is strong and to the point. Jesus is aware that he, too, will soon suffer and that some may interpret his suffering as proof of his guilt. Jesus' response encompasses not only those who suffer at the hands of corrupt officials, but those who suffer in accidents and disasters as well. He speaks of 18 who died when a tower fell on them. Were they guilty of something? Of course not! A reminder for all those who are looking on the earthquakes and other disasters taking place in the world and seeing them as signs of God's absence. No... Jesus is clear and direct in this passage. Suffering is not a sign of sin. While it may be a consequence of sin, there are many reasons why a person might suffer. Suffering seems to be at the heart of the human experience, an experience that Christ is about to embrace wholeheartedly, even unto his death.

Watching by Night

Watching by Night
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

The psalm for the week continues, "On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night. Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wing." (Ps. 63:6-7)

Night comes in many forms. Whether it is simply darkness or the dark night of the soul. In many ways, Lent seems like the watches of the night in Christ's story. It is the growing darkness before the dawn. And the disciples, though they cared for Jesus, could not keep watch by night. They fell asleep in the garden of Gethsemane, unable to stay awake when Jesus asked them to. The Psalmist speaks of watching for God in the midst of our suffering knowing that we are sheltered under "the shadow of your wing." But Gethsemane reminds us that we are to also keep watch for others, to have eyes open and awake to the suffering of God's children in the world. Will I keep watch for Haiti? For Chile? For my own city? For those in pain in my own congregation? Help me, Lord, to keep watch in the night, to lift them up to you.

Reaching

Reaching
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

"I have seen you in the sanctuary and beheld your power and your glory. Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you. I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands." Psalm 63.2-3

We reach out to a God who seems to high above, so distant, so glorious. Praise erupts from our lips because of God's goodness and mercy. This... this is the same God who came to earth, who took on human form, who is walking towards Jerusalem, towards certain death on our behalf. This is the God who loves us so immeasurably that God will strive to find a way to stay in relationship with us despite our sin and failings. Lent reminds us of the depth of God's love for us. May we erupt in continual praise.

Can We See God On A Cloudy Day?

As the Heavens
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

The Isaiah text for this week concludes with the familiar phrase, "'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are my ways your ways,' declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways..."
I set out to take a beautiful heavens picture this morning, but awoke to gray sky. Perhaps the gray is a bit more fitting. I like to think of Gods thoughts being brilliant blue with bright white clouds floating by. I like to think of the heavens full of stars and a bright shining moon. But the reality is that God's thoughts often seem more gray and cloudy than bright and clear. Walking through the gray is an exercise in trust and faithfulness. On a gray day, however, it is also true that the sky is nearer to us. The clouds are lower. God is not lofty and light years away. Rather God is the mist settling on this earth, surrounding us, enveloping us, comforting us. Jurgen Moltmann speaks of God's immanent transcendence, the reality that the wholly other, other-wordly God is right here with us, very much a part of this world, closer to us than we can ever imagine. High above and deep within... a reality made visible as Jesus makes his way to the cross this Lenten season.

What Will Satisfy Me?

Bread and Oranges
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

The Old Testament text for this week needs little comment:
"Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare." (Isa. 55:1-2)
So often when I am thirsty, when I am in need, when I am exhausted, I turn to the things of this world to satisfy me. They are right there, in every commercial, every movie and sitcom, on every pop-up ad and in my inbox. They promise what only God can deliver. And I seem to fall for it over and over again. When will I learn? When will I finally trust that God is the only one who can truly satisfy me?

Healing?

Healing?
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

At the end of this first full week of Lent, we return to the gospel text for this Sunday with Jesus making his way to Jerusalem and mourning over the unwillingness of that city to embrace him (Luke 13:31-35). Herod is out to kill him. He knows he is walking to his death. I would be discouraged, frustrated, stomping my way to that city of a hill. At the least I would be finding a way to protect myself along the way. Jesus, of course, will have none of that. In the face of such opposition, Jesus turns to embrace the people. He brings the presence of the kingdom through driving out demons and healing. In the face of enemies, Jesus brings the gospel. What a concept! To love your enemies. I have to admit that I appreciate the fact that for Jesus healing is an act of defiance. There is power in bringing the gospel and making the kingdom real among the people. During Lent, I hope I will learn to do the same. In the face of enemies and challenges, I will endeavor to stand strong, not hiding or retaliating, but bringing the gospel.

Follow the Pattern

Follow the Pattern
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

This Christmas my Mom made me a beautiful quilt. I don't know how she does it. It takes so much time to choose the fabric, cut out all the pieces, sew them back together, and then quilt the whole thing. All the while, she follows a pattern that tells her where all the pieces should go in order to pull together a coherent design.
The Philippians text for this week reminds us that we should take note of those who live according the pattern Paul gave them (Phil 3.17). Like Paul, we are to strive for maturity in our faith, to realize that we have not yet reached perfection, and to press on towards the goal.
We are to model ourselves after those who have gone before us, those who have sustained faith over the long haul and through the difficult times.
Where do you see the patterns of Christ in the world around you? What might God reveal to you of these patterns during this Lenten season?

Look Up to the Stars

Look Up to the Stars
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

So, the picture may be a bit of a stretch... but I'll try to make the connection. I've been thinking about the Old Testament text for the week, Genesis 15, since I first read it on Monday. God promises to make Abraham into a great nation, but Abraham wonders how this can happen since he has no children of his own. God tells him not to worry. Look up to the heavens. You'll have descendants like the stars in the sky. Honestly, Abraham makes me a bit angry in this passage. So he doesn't have children by blood. But there is adoption. There is a child with a servant. I realize it was a different time and place, but still. It is a painful reminder for those of us who can't or don't have children
While God's answer in this passage focuses on granting Abraham a son with his wife, Sarah, I am grateful that in Christ the answer moves far beyond that initial promise. In Christ, we are all children of Abraham and heirs to God's promises. Ironically, often our churches carry Abraham's same concern and focus. We think of family only as those who are related by blood or marriage. May we at Lent remember that we are all a part of the family of faith by adoption.

A House

A House
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

I can't believe I forgot to post last night. I took several pictures throughout the day. Knew what I was going to write about. But when I got home from teaching I simply forgot. I am so sorry. I have learned, however, that when I am in the middle of a discipline, the best thing to do when I have messed up is to just keep going. Don't dwell on the mistake. The point is to develop a habit. So, here is yesterday's post.

The Psalmist this week cries out, "One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life." (Ps. 27.4). The temple is a place of beauty, safety, and justice. I have always loved this imagery and the idea of being a simple doorkeeper in the house of the Lord. To be honest, for me the image held the possibility of escape from the troubles and responsibilities of this world. Yesterday, however, I was led to reflect on the fact that we are now the houses of the Lord. Our bodies are God's temple and the Holy Spirit dwells within us. It is in our bodies that we are to find beauty (the image of God?), safety (a healthy self-image?), and justice (freedom in Christ?). For God has made a home there. Rather than fleeing ourselves, we are to embrace God's presence within us. The disciplines of Lent are not about escaping our bodies, but about freeing them from the unhealthy sinful practices that ensnare us body, mind, and soul, so that we can live into the full freedom that comes from the presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives.

(On a side note, many of my thoughts on this journey are coming from Jurgen Moltmann's The Spirit of Life, the text for the theology course I am currently teaching.)

Citizenship

Citizenship
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

In Philippians 3.19-20, Paul contrasts those whose minds are on earthly things with those whose citizenship is in heaven. It seems that Paul is telling us that as Christians we are to look up to heaven and away from this earth. We are to live in the spiritual realm rather than in the reality of this world. And yet vs. 21 promises not that we will be released from this world and these bodies, but that these bodies of ours will be transformed, made like God's glorious body. Citizenship in heaven is not an escape from this world, but rather a transforming of this world into God's likeness. Lent can be a time when we try to flee this world. We deny ourselves. We withdraw into a season of inward repentance and reflection. While these are important aspects of Lent. They are not meant to be an escape. Rather they are meant to free us so that we can live our heavenly citizenship in this world. We are to bring the kingdom into the here and now. How can we live more fully as citizens of heaven during this Lenten season?

Chickens

Chickens
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

"O Jerusalem, Jerusalem... how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings!" Jesus' lament in Luke 13.34 resembles a mother crying out over her rebellious children. God as our mother reaching out in love and care, yet facing rejection and eventual death at the very hands of the one's she is gathering under her wings. The redemption offered to human beings by Christ is both the bearing of our sins and walking alongside us in our suffering. Though Christ seems to become more and more isolated on his journey to Jerusalem, in reality he is drawing ever closer to us. Solidarity with the suffering, but also a fierce clinging to the perpetrators. A willingness to remain in relationship and offer redemption to those who chose to turn their lives back towards God. A willingness to remain in relationship despite the depth of pain and sorrow it causes. Are we willing to do the same? To cling to those who hurt us in love? To return to those we have hurt and seek forgiveness? Not in weakness, but in a strength that holds on to our own integrity, in a truth that names the reality.

A Light in the Darkness

A Light in the Darkness
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

Standing in a dark room before a mirror, I aim the camera and shoot. Light flashes. For a moment the room is illuminated. You have no idea what will appear in the picture at the moment you take the shot. Yet the brief instance of life reveals a way forward.
The psalm for this week begins, "The Lord is might light and my salvation. Whom shall I fear?" (Ps. 27.1) The Old Testament passage tells the story of Abraham. God has just made a mighty promise, yet Abraham is still in the dark. He cannot see a way forward. He cannot fathom how God might fulfill this promise. And so, in a vision, God goes before him as a burning pot and a flaming torch... a light in the darkness. Hope in the midst of despair.
At the beginning of Lent, we stand with Christ at the beginning of a dark journey. We know that redemption is at hand, but there seems to be no way forward. At least no way that avoids the deep darkness of the cross. There are flashes of light. Miraculous healings. Exorcisms. The Transfiguration. Moments when the light of heaven flashes into this world and points a way forward. There are promises of the past, such as the fulfillment of God's covenant with Abraham, which leave a lingering light which point the way.
As we begin Lent, however, we must allow ourselves to enter the darkness. Though we live in the light of the resurrection, we must let ourselves walk through the night of Christ's suffering.

Foundation Stones

Foundation Stones
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

Along the top of an old stone bridge crossing a stream down a winding road in Pennsylvania is a cornerstone carved with the names of important people who helped lay the foundation.
What if the owner of the bridge suddenly added new stones? Building on top of what already existed? How might we feel about these new stones? Would we consider them a part of the bridge?
Perhaps this is a bit of a stretch illustration wise, but I see a connection to today's text from Romans 10:12-13 where Paul reminds us that everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord will be saved. There will be no difference between Jews and Gentiles. The "same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on the Lord." Old and new will come together through faith in Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Paul's words challenge us to broaden our understanding of who belongs to the body of Christ. It is not just those who are new and vibrant. It is not just those who follow the ancient traditions. Rather, all who believe in the Lord are saved. During the Lenten journey, we can become protective of our faith. We recognize the depth of the struggle. We recognize the overwhelming sacrifice. And yet Christ himself; Christ who faced persecution, rejection and death; Christ who had every right to close the gate behind him, to limit salvation to only the most faithful; Christ throws his arms wide open to offer salvation to all who call upon his name. And we must have the faith and courage to do the same.

Stumbling to Jerusalem

Foot Against the Stone
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

Psalm 91 promises that the angels will attend to those who trust in God. You "will not strike your foot against a stone." The Lord is our refuge. We can rest in the shadow of the almighty. For any of us who have suffered or come to harm, what do these promises mean?
Satan throws this verse in Jesus' face. "Jump off this mountain top. The angels will attend to you." Jesus does not deny God's promise, but refuses to test God. And continues to walk forward towards Jerusalem and the cross. A place where the angels seem utterly absent.
In Lent, we are not reminded of God's protection. Not in the traditional sense. Rather, we are reminded that God walks with us in our suffering. Jesus stumbles and falls on the way to the cross. And Lent calls us to stumble along with him. The Christian journey is not always easy. As we mature in our faith, our lives grow in direct contradiction to the sinful structures of this world. We, too, march towards Jerusalem.

God is Our Refuge

God is Our Refuge
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

It is only the third day of Lent and already I must decide what this discipline means to me. Up early, traveling across country. A day with friends. Up late, prepping for class next week. Does it matter if I stay faithful? Does it really matter if I post a picture each day? It seems in this journey of life there are various stages when we are most vulnerable to temptation. And the beginnings are often the most difficult. Jesus himself, when called to ministry, immediately is sent into the wilderness to face temptation. Satan doesn't tempt him with lies. He tempts him with the truth, the very words of Scripture. "Jump off this cliff. God promises to rescue you!" I could come up with a dozen scripture verses that would justify stopping these devotions right now, but I choose, at least this night, to go on. We are vulnerable whenever we begin a new discipline, because it has not yet become a habit. It has not become ingrained in our body and mind. It requires daily compulsion. A daily act of the will. And that is part of the purpose of Lent. To develop spiritual practices that will become ingrained in our being. To move our faith from our mind deep into
our heart, written there by the Spirit.

The picture above resembles a cross, but in reality it is the mast of a ship. Perhaps developing spiritual practices allows us to put down our oars and hoist a sail... a sail that allows the breath of the Holy Spirit to propel us effortless across the sea.

First Fruits

First Fruits
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

My first fruits these days seem pretty meager. Paychecks are few and far between. I am exhausted running from one job to another. My spiritual life is struggling and my attitude is often pretty lousy. What does it mean to bring an offering to God not out of abundance, but out of lack? Will God accept what little I have?
The practice of giving our first fruits to God (Deut. 26:1-11) began when God brought Israel up out of the Egypt into the land flowing with milk and honey. But what happens when you are still in the wilderness? Grumbling along with all the others about having to eat manna for dinner again?
I think, in the midst of wilderness wanderings, perhaps we are still called to offer our first fruits, even if they are quite sparse. It is not that God needs what we have to offer, but that in giving we let go for a moment of our fear and need. For one second, we forget about ourselves and remember that we are not alone. God is with us.

Cleanse Me From My Sin

Cleanse Me From My Sin
Originally uploaded by auntjojo

Theme of dirty and clean pervades the scriptures this day and the Ash Wednesday celebrations. We wear ashes as a reminder of our own mortality and sinfulness. We cry out to be cleansed from our sin (Ps. 51). And we are reminded to wash our face when fasting so as not to parade our piety in front of others (Matt 6.16ff), reminding us that we are not as clean as we think!
Deep down, however, the texts remind us that we are created in the image of God. At our core, we are meant to be clean and free of dirt and sin. We are good. Our bodies are good. They don't need to be punished during Lent. They need to be cleansed. May we have the courage to present our bodies to be washed whiter than snow throughout this Lenten season.