From Less Than Nothing

Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me.

—Psalm 51:10

This little verse has a lot of theology packed into it. And it starts with the first word: create. I'm inclined to think that my heart is naturally clean, and I just sully it up a bit when I make mistakes. But here is implied quite the opposite: on its own, my heart is unclean, and the only way to get a clean one is an act that only God can perform. The verb here, בּרא‬‬, is the exact same verb used in Genesis 1:1 when God created the world from less than nothing. If my heart is to be renewed, then an act of divine creation—creation as in the Book of Genesis—is needed.

And then there's that second clause. Is it simply a repetition of the first clause in slightly different language? From a Christian perspective, it looks like something else. Whereas the first clause is about justification—that is, forgiveness that makes me right with God—the second part is about what happens after that, i.e. sanctification. The first clause is a momentary act when God cleanses my inward being; the second clause is the rest of my life as I grow into the new creature I have become.

By the work of your Son on the Cross, O God, create something new within me: forgive me and make me clean. Then, by the indwelling of your Holy Spirit, cause me to become what I already am in your eyes. Amen.

My Secret Heart

You desire truth in the inward being; therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart.

—Psalm 51:6

It's common enough when we encounter someone who's a little rough around the edges to hear one of their defenders say, "But they have a good heart." Indeed, that seems to be how we excuse wrongdoing these days: What we do outwardly is an anomaly; on the inside, where it supposedly counts, we are good people.

Nothing could be further from the truth, of course. If one tenth of the sin we entertain in our hearts were to be acted upon, the population of the world would probably be in prison. In Matthew 15, Jesus tells the religious authorities that what we put into our mouths doesn't defile. It's what comes from our hearts that defiles. 

I need, therefore, to stop pretending that the wrong I do isn't reflected in my heart, which is basically good. For my actions wouldn't occur without my mind. And my mind wouldn't be corrupt if it weren't for my inner being which gives rise to the thoughts I entertain. It doesn't matter if I attempt (or pray for) change in my actions, for my secret heart will still remain unreformed.

Change me, Lord, not on the outside, but on the inside. Only then will my actions match what I say I believe. Amen.

Wash Me Thoroughly

Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.

Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.

For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.
Against you, you alone, have I sinned, and done what is evil in your sight, so that you are justified in your sentence and blameless when you pass judgement.
Indeed, I was born guilty, a sinner when my mother conceived me.

—Psalm 51:1-3

As well known as Psalm 51 is, it is not often enough prayed. In this era when we have decided that there is no such thing as sin, this psalm offers only unnecessary guilt. Why should I ask a loving God for mercy? How can it be that I have sinned only against God? How dare anyone imply that there's such a thing as original sin?

And yet here in the first five verses of Psalm 51, these are the things that I pray. So I'll answer the aforementioned questions in reverse.

1. I am opposed to war. I am opposed to breaking up families. I am for education. I am for healthcare. And yet I participate in—indeed I support with my finances—a system that makes weapons, cages children apart from their mothers, defunds public schools, and spends next to nothing to provide healthcare to those who need it most. This is an example of original sin. I say I'm against these things, but am I to be held blameless when I benefit from the very system I disagree with? This happens to all of us throughout our lives. We consider ourselves blameless in a particular area, and yet the world's sin invades our lives, sometimes ruining them. Secondhand smoke, drunk driving, crime—I do not do these things, and yet I am vulnerable to their effects. And there are practices that I participate which to me seem perfectly innocent, yet which profoundly impact others: the food that I eat, the clothes that I wear, the products that I use—many of these things are made under conditions that hurt people, yet I say I have no control over what I do. Indeed, I was born guilty...
   
2. The Bible stresses that humankind was made in God's image. And yet not all people care to imitate the Divine in their dealings. Indeed, some are quite easily judged as being undeserving of our Christian consideration. Yet Calvin said that "we are not to look to what [people] in themselves deserve, but to attend to the image of God, which exists in all, and to which we owe all honor and love" [Institutes 3.7.6]. When I hurt another, even if I think they've received their just rewards, I hurt the image of God in which they were created. And so it's true that when I commit wrongdoing, it is ultimately God who has been sinned against.
   
3. And finally, why should I beg God for mercy if God loves me and forgives me anyway? Besides, what I do doesn't matter in the scheme of things. And yet, everything I do, every action I take is like a pebble thrown into a pond. Its ripples radiate outward and have an effect on everything around me. To practice confession is to acknowledge that what I do matters, and to invite God into my desire to change, to improve.

Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. Against you, you alone, have I sinned, and done what is evil in your sight, so that you are justified in your sentence and blameless when you pass judgement.  Indeed, I was born guilty... Amen.

—Psalm 51:1-3

What Right?

But to the wicked God says: “What right have you to recite my statutes, or take my covenant on your lips? For you hate discipline, and you cast my words behind you. You make friends with a thief when you see one, and you keep company with adulterers. You give your mouth free rein for evil, and your tongue frames deceit. You sit and speak against your kin; you slander your own mother’s child. These things you have done and I have been silent; you thought that I was one just like yourself. But now I rebuke you, and lay the charge before you."

—Psalm 50:16-21

This is a very difficult passage to read. God has just promised the faithful unconditional love. But not all God's people are faithful. God also has a few words for the wicked. And they're not wicked because they live outside God's covenant. Clearly, here, they are wicked specifically because they claim to be members of the church—those called out from among the nations to witness to God's love. And of the accusations laid against the wicked, one stands out on June 27, 2018: You slander your own mother's child.

I said something in my sermon this past Sunday which I believe with all my heart: "The welfare of other people’s children is entrusted to us, for through the blood shed on the cross, there’s no such thing as other people. We are all one." When a people imprisons those fleeing danger, rips their children from their arms and puts those same children in cages, then that people cannot count itself among the faithful who can call upon God for deliverance. "You shall glorify me," God said at the end of yesterday's passage from Ps. 50, yet how can a life that imprisons the innocent glorify God?

Forgive me, O God, for I am a hypocrite. I call a liar my leader and pay taxes that further persecute the oppressed. Show me the way out of my sin, for I cannot find it on my own; deliver my people from the pit we have dug ourselves. Dare I pray this in Jesus' Name? Even so, I say, Amen.

Jesus' Blood Never Failed Me Yet

I realize most people would probably place this composition on a spectrum somewhere between tedious and annoying. But I find it indescribably beautiful. I can listen to it over and over again. Please note that the strings don't begin until the 3:59 point in the video. The composer's explanation is found below.

In 1971, when I lived in London, I was working with a friend, Alan Power, on a film about people living rough in the area around Elephant and Castle and Waterloo Station. In the course of being filmed, some people broke into drunken song - sometimes bits of opera, sometimes sentimental ballads—and one, who in fact did not drink, sang a religious song "Jesus' Blood Never Failed Me Yet". This was not ultimately used in the film and I was given all the unused sections of tape, including this one.

When I played it at home, I found that his singing was in tune with my piano, and I improvised a simple accompaniment. I noticed, too, that the first section of the song—13 bars in length—formed an effective loop which repeated in a slightly unpredictable way. I took the tape loop to Leicester, where I was working in the Fine Art Department, and copied the loop onto a continuous reel of tape, thinking about perhaps adding an orchestrated accompaniment to this. The door of the recording room opened on to one of the large painting studios and I left the tape copying, with the door open, while I went to have a cup of coffee. When I came back I found the normally lively room unnaturally subdued. People were moving about much more slowly than usual and a few were sitting alone, quietly weeping.

I was puzzled until I realised that the tape was still playing and that they had been overcome by the old man's singing. This convinced me of the emotional power of the music and of the possibilities offered by adding a simple, though gradually evolving, orchestral accompaniment that respected the tramp's nobility and simple faith. Although he died before he could hear what I had done with his singing, the piece remains as an eloquent, but understated testimony to his spirit and optimism.

The piece was originally recorded on Brian Eno's Obscure label in 1975 and a substantially revised and extended version for Point Records in 1993. The version that is played by my ensemble was specially created in 1993 to coincide with this last recording.

©Gavin Bryars

The Cattle on a Thousand Hills

I will not accept a bull from your house, or goats from your folds.
For every wild animal of the forest is mine, the cattle on a thousand hills.
I know all the birds of the air, and all that moves in the field is mine.
If I were hungry, I would not tell you, for the world and all that is in it is mine.
Do I eat the flesh of bulls, or drink the blood of goats?
Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving, and pay your vows to the Most High.

—Psalm 50:12-14

My first inclination this morning is to meditate solely a small part of Psalm 50:

Call on me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify me.

—Psalm 50:15

But this is a shallow truth when not taken in the context of what precedes it, where God refers "to his own boundless possessions, that he may show his absolute independence of human offerings. He then points at the wide distinction betwixt himself and [mortals], the latter being dependent for a frail subsistence upon meat and drink, while he is the self-existent One, and communicates life to all beside. There may be nothing new in the truths here laid down by the psalmist; but, considering the strong propensity we have by nature to form our estimate of God from ourselves, and to degenerate into a carnal worship, they convey a lesson by no means unnecessary, and which contains profound wisdom, that [we] can never benefit God by any of [our] services."

—John Calvin

And so the true meaning of the second half of the 50th Psalm is much deeper than its individual verses.

1. I know that God created all things and that all things are God's. 
2. I know that my heart should be grateful to God. 
3. And finally, I know that I can call upon God for deliverance in times of need. 

But when I look at this third point in the context of the first one, my attempts to make deals with God fall completely apart. "God if you'll heal me, I'll serve you the rest of my life," I might say. God has proven that God needs nothing of mine. And yet God says to me, "Come to me when you're in trouble, I will listen, and your deliverance will be my true glory." This is love; this is the very definition of grace.

I come to you now as one of your needy ones, Lord. You have told me that you will hear my prayers, and that you, who need nothing, will be glorified by this minuscule life, which I now hand over to you; in Jesus' Name. Amen.

The Perfection of Beauty

Out of Zion, the perfection of beauty, God shines forth.

—Psalm 50:2

Perhaps I look too often for the human conception of beauty in the church: Beautiful architecture, fine paraments, glorious stained glass. Yet beauty as defined by God might be—and probably is—quite different. For how does God shine forth from the body of Christ, but in the preaching of the gospel and selfless acts of kindness? In word and deed, therefore, we see the perfection of beauty, for these encompass the faith of the church.

God our light, make your church like a rainbow
shining and proclaiming to all the world
that the storm is at an end,
there is peace for those who seek it
and love for the forgiving. Amen.

—A New Zealand Prayer Book

Good News and Bad News

I haven’t mentioned it in a while, but it’s about exactly a year ago that I had a little heart attack. And I’m reminded of this by my own sermon title. You see, the chair of the diaconate visited me in the hospital that Sunday afternoon and told me she had good news and bad news from their meeting. “Great,” I said, “I need some good news.”

“Well,” she said, “the deacons took a vote and decided to send you a get-well card. Here it is.”

And she gave me a cheerful yellow envelope. Inside was a beautiful card with a lovely prayer, signed by several deacons.

“Thank you!” I said. But what was the bad news?

“The vote was 5-4,” she informed me.

Good news/bad news jokes are among our favorites. People come up with new ones every day, and there’s really no situation that isn’t vulnerable to this kind of humor. This is because it’s always possible to find a down-side to anything good, or an upside to anything bad. I remember a few years ago when I had another good news/bad news situation, and this one involved my small dog, Brewster Meese.

Why Should I Fear?

Why should I fear in times of trouble, when the iniquity of my persecutors surrounds me, those who trust in their wealth and boast of the abundance of their riches?

—Psalm 49:5-6

In this era of greed, injustice, and corruption, there appears to be a great deal to fear. Foremost among my fears, however, is the fact that people calling themselves Christians are both the motivators and enablers of much of what's wrong. The solution seems to be more fearful than the problem, for perpetrators are usually not the first victims of the tumult that sets things to right. 

But it's important to remember that those who depend on God, who live in God's presence, who seek God's face will never be let down. In the end, we belong to God. Those who try to usurp God's place, who judge their neighbor even as they victimize them, who make the least among us their prey—they will belong to the nothing that they have so lusted after.

Father, imprint upon my heart that because I belong to you no one can pluck me from your hand, and because I fear you I need fear no other. Amen.

—A New Zealand Prayer Book (alt.)

This Is God

Walk about Zion, go all around it, count its towers, consider well its ramparts; go through its citadels, that you may tell the next generation that this is God, our God forever and ever. He will be our guide forever.

—Psalm 48:12-14

At first, I am not inclined to gain much inspiration from the conclusion of the 48th Psalm. Its concentration on a buildings and construction is problematic for me. It extols the architecture of a city and says that this is God. Most troublesome of all is the fact that the city eventually fell.

But here Calvin helps me once again, pointing out that "God would have [me] behold the marks of his grace engraven wherever [I turn], or rather, to recognize him as present in these marks." Thus, the end of this psalm is asking me to ponder beauty or greatness and acknowledge it as being of God and a sign of God's providence. The city is not God, but is a tangible sign of God's presence. To look at it and say This is God is to acknowledge God's grace in physical reality, just as God's people do when they acknowledge a spiritual truth.

God, forbid that I should go about my day today taking the signs of your presence for granted. Whether those signs appear in the beauty of nature, as something made by human hands, or as a thing hidden in my soul that only I experience, give me grace to acknowledge your presence around and within me; in Jesus' Name. Amen.

The Joy of All the Earth

Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised in the city of our God. His holy mountain, beautiful in elevation, is the joy of all the earth.

—Psalm 48:1-2a

Certainly, when this psalm was written, "the city of our God" referred to Jerusalem. Christian theology sees something different, though, and that is that the church is the city of God, and it is in the church that God's praise should equal God's greatness. 

I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.  

—John 12:32

 

It is also in the church that Christ is lifted up. The cross is beautiful in elevation, and its salvation is the joy of all the earth.

You are great, O Lord; help me to give you great praise. Your body lifted up on the cross is beautiful, O Lord, may the atonement accomplished in your body not only bring me joy, but inspire me to take my joy into the world. Amen.

The Handyman

Rating: ⚃

❦ Stephen King apparently referred to Bentley Little as the "horror poet laureate," which is no faint praise. But I was rather disappointed with The Handyman (Baltimore: Cemetery Dance, 2017). The plot passed muster on the surface:

Young Daniel Martin and his family encounter a creepy guy who builds them a house, but the house brings sadness and death. Come to find out, this same guy has done this in many places for many families, always to disastrous effect. As an adult, when Daniel discovers his wasn't the only experience of Frank W, he is determined to get to the bottom of it. What ensues, naturally, is horror (Stephen King's compliment pretty much clued us in on this one).

Despite the many diversions, flashbacks, and parallel stories, Little moves the plot along. It's not until the very end that the reader realizes the problem: Despite the intricate detail, there's actually far too little preparation for the climax. The description of Daniel's final encounter with Frank and all he has wrought happens much too suddenly, is not described in enough depth, and comes to far too quick a conclusion.

The Handyman rolls a ⚃. Good writing, entertaining, but it comes up short in the end.

God Has Gone Up

God has gone up with a shout, the Lord with the sound of a trumpet.

Sing praises to God, sing praises; sing praises to our King, sing praises.

For God is the king of all the earth; sing praises with a psalm.

—Psalm 47:5-7

Christians think of the 47th Psalm—most specifically Psalm 47:5—as referring to the Ascension of Christ. Calvin certainly interpreted it this way as well:

"When this ceremony was performed in old time, it was just as if a king, making his entrance among his subjects, presented himself to them in magnificent attire and great splendor, by which he gained their admiration and reverence. At the same time, the sacred writer, under that shadowy ceremony, doubtless intended to lead us to consider another kind of going up more triumphant—that of Christ when he ascended up far above all heavens [Eph 4:10], and obtained the empire of the whole world, and armed with his celestial power, subdued all pride and loftiness."

In practice, the "going up" of God probably involved the carrying of the ark of the covenant to its proper place in the tabernacle—the ark being the sign of God's presence in Israel's midst. And when I think about that, what is the sign of God's presence in me, and in the midst those I worship with? When I witness to those signs—healing of sickness, pardon for sin, love when I am a jerk, courage when I am a coward, and hope when all hope has been lost—whether in the midst of the congregation or in my daily life, then I am carrying a modern-day ark to its proper place, and in me, God is lifted up.

Help me to discover the signs of your presence in my life, O God, and in all the ways that I carry your presence about with me, may your Name be lifted up, your values be honored, and your justice be advanced in a world that needs to know you; in Jesus' Name. Amen.

Clap Your Hands

Clap your hands, all you peoples; shout to God with loud songs of joy.
For the Lord, the Most High, is awesome, a great king over all the earth.

—Psalm 47:1-2

The church I currently serve loves to clap—especially for music, but for many other things as well. This is fine, I suppose, but at a certain point, all the applause becomes meaningless. Maybe I could apply here something Jesus said in a different context: You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot [Matt. 5:13]. In other words, some things are special, and when we spread them too thin, waste them unnecessarily, or fail to appreciate their true meaning, then we're in danger of making common that which should be special. That's my opinion, as unpopular as it may seem, of applause in church.

Applause in the Bible is a different matter. There, it's a rare occurrence. It's reserved for that which is truly special, and when people clap, they're acknowledging something spectacular. In the psalms, for example, hand-clapping occurs twice. And of those two times, one of them is metaphorical, for when in the 98th Psalm the floods clap their hands, we know that this is simply a figure of speech. Thus Psalm 47:1 is the only place where people are called upon to clap their hands in the entire psalter—the book of the Bible where we find all sorts of praise. For example, musical instruments as a way of showing praise are found dozens of time in the psalms alone.

But applause is reserved for God—specifically as an acknowledgment of God's sovereignty over all the earth. To clap for God is to belong to God—not as slaves or serfs, but as joyful children who are part of something truly special.

May your greatness, O God, make me truly joyful. And may the joy I reserve for you alone influence the rest of my life. For only when I am happy in you can my outlook be truly positive. Amen.

Juneteenth

The last enslaved African Americans to hear of the end of slavery were in Texas. They got the news on June 19, 1865—two months after the end of the Civil War, and 2½ years after the Emancipation Proclamation. This day came to be known as Juneteenth. To remember this important holiday, here's Committed's rendition of Lift Every Voice, the song often referred to as the "Black National Anthem."

Be Still and Know

Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth.

—Psalm 46:10

I have always imagined that everyone is being addressed by the words, "Be still, and know that I am God." And if this is the case, it's a fine message. In the midst of my fevered days and fast-paced life, true meaning is found in quiet and prayer and acknowledging that God is the Creator and I am but a creature.

But Calvin reminds me of the actual context of this verse, which is warfare and strife—the kind of strife that only God has the power to end. And in that context, "Be still, and know that I am God," has a different emphasis—namely that God is speaking to those who prey upon the people of God.

"In doing injury to the saints they do not consider that they are making war against God. Imagining that they have only to do with mortals, they presumptuously assail them, and therefore the prophet here represses their insolence; and that his address may have the more weight, he introduces God himself as speaking to them."

In this day and age, I believe we must apply Calvin's interpretation to a situation in which those with money and power and influence use their vast resources to inflict pain on the least among us—the sick, the underprivileged, the immigrant, the homeless child—for all these are currently under attack. Never have Walt Kelly's words in the Pogo comic strip (1970) been more true than they are at this moment in the USA: "We have met the enemy, and he is us."

Drop thy still dews of quietness,
till all our strivings cease;
take from our souls the strain and stress,
and let our ordered lives confess
the beauty of thy peace.

Breathe through the heat of our desire
thy coolness and thy balm;
let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm. Amen.

—John Greenleaf Whittier

He Breaks the Bow

He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear; he burns the shields with fire.

—Psalm 46:9

At the beginning of this psalm, the earth is in turmoil—seemingly because of natural disasters—yet God's people are not afraid. And here in v. 9 we see the culmination of more chaos, this being raging war. But, as Calvin points out, our hope lies not in temporary truces, but "should look for peace from [God], even when the whole world is in uproar, and agitated in a dreadful manner."

I am discouraged, Lord. Peace seems so far away. Nation fights nation, and the issues that divide them seem insoluble. I long for the absence of war. Yet I know that that is not peace, for your shalom requires the presence of justice. Show us what shalom looks like that we may, by your power and wisdom, be makers of peace and workers of justice; in Jesus' Name. Amen.

A Father's Day Prayer Inspired by the Call of Isaiah

Americans observed Father's Day on June 17 as a people in danger of losing our humanity. My pastoral prayer reflected my conflicted feelings on Sunday, and my only inspiration was the call of Isaiah (6:5-8): 

I said: 'Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!' 

Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. The seraph touched my mouth with it and said: 'Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.' 

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?' 

And I said, 'Here am I; send me!'

Snapshots of God

The United Church of Christ, as just about everybody knows, is a progressive church. One of the first places a stranger might notice this is in our hymnal. The New Century Hymnal changes lots of words. Sometimes traditional hymns have their theology changed a bit. Just about all the thees, thous, and thines have been changed to you and yours. Also, just about every reference to fathers, mankind, and brothers have been changed to more gender neutral language. And—and this is the most controversial—references to God have been changed pretty extensively. God is seldom called Father in our hymnal, and the word Lord is also uncommon. And most controversial of all, even Christ is seldom referred to as he in The New Century Hymnal.

And so when Father’s Day rolled around this year, I decided I’d do something different. I knew I wanted to preach about the images we use for God in our language, so I decided that it was an okay context for us to use some old images that we don’t hear as much of. And so all of our hymns this morning come from old UCC hymnals—I mean really old ones, like 1931 and 1941. The hymnals that were official when the UCC was formed in 1957.

The River of God

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High.

God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved; God will help it when the morning dawns.

—Psalm 46:4-5

Water is portrayed in several different ways in the scriptures, ranging from destructive chaos to wisdom and order. And here in Psalm 46, we see these two extremes. It opens with the raging seas in verses 2-3, but here in verse 4, we already see the happy calm of the river of God.

The theology here is as reassuring as the geography is questionable. Water is water. But without God, it is an angry force to be feared. While under God's influence, it is gladdening and protective.

And so it is with my life. Though I doubt God is ever actually absent, I sometimes fail to acknowledge God's presence, instead feeling chaotic and hopeless. But handed over to God's power, my life is hopeful and ordered.

Order my life according to your will, Lord, that I may be delivered from the chaos of the world into the city of God. Amen.

A Very Present Help

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea.

—Psalm 46:1-2

No psalm—not even the 23rd Psalm—offers imagery as evocative  as Psalm 46. The opening verses immediately bring to mind a strong reason to hope when everything around me is falling apart. I can't help but remember this quote by Martin Luther when I read Psalm 46:1-2—

"Even if I knew that the world would go to pieces tomorrow, I would still plant my apple tree."

The world gives me so many reasons to doubt, O Lord. But you are the one constant that gives me hope. It's a good thing you're all the hope I need. Amen.

A Scepter of Equity

Your throne, O God, endures forever and ever. Your royal scepter is a scepter of equity.

—Psalm 45:6

Yesterday I meditated on how the 45th Psalm may seem to be about the earthly ruler, but is, in fact, about the eternal King. And here in v. 6, we see the truth of this. God is the true Sovereign, and though God is omnipotent, power is not spoken of as the sign of God's rule. Instead, God's symbol is the scepter of מִישׁוֹר, which is literally a level place. It is usually translated as a scepter of equity. God is therefore a God of equality or justice. And God's people, living under this scepter of justice, are obligated to treat one another and their neighbors as though they, too, live under this same scepter... for indeed they and we are all subjects of—and bear the image of—the one great King.

Forgive me, Lord, when I fail to acknowledge your rule over my life. Give me a vision of your justice, and help me to treat others fairly and equally, for so you have willed it; in Jesus' Name. Amen.

Anti-Christian Bias

Jimmy Carr

Earlier this month the Supreme Court ruled that business owners, based on their religious beliefs, have a constitutional right to refuse service to persons based on their sexual orientation. Subsequent polls demonstrated how this ruling was viewed by Democrats (generally opposed) and Republicans (generally in favor) as well as by persons of different religious beliefs (only white evangelicals were generally in favor—Roman Catholics were the most opposed to such discrimination).

Another question in the poll was even more revealing. When asked who faced greater discrimination, Christians or the LGBT community, here were the results (click to enlarge):

Personally, I am vehemently opposed to discrimination against anyone, and do not agree that Christians face any real discrimination in this country. But I am sometimes shocked by the amount of hatred aimed at Christians in our society.

The other evening, I wanted to watch something new on Netflix, and I saw a listing for a standup special by Jimmy Carr, a comedian I'd seen once or twice and found funny. So I tuned in. Just a few minutes into the show, he asked if there were any Christians in the audience. One guy (!) said he was, so Mr. Carr asked him if he'd like to buy some magic beans because he was so "f*cking gullible." He then went on to insult what he thought was a major belief of Christians—namely, the virgin birth—and ended up referring to the mother of Jesus as a "slag."

Granted, this show was recorded in England. But it was being marketed to  an American audience (as Mr. Carr acknowledged at the beginning, feeling the need to translate a couple of terms into American English for the people who'd be watching him later). 

One of the criticisms directed toward Christians is our intolerance—a criticism that I agree we've earned. But as intolerant as some among us are, I never witness this level of vitriol from Christians.  But I have several times witnessed it hurled at Christians.

Members of my own church, even those whose faith runs deep and who never miss a worship service, would be a bit confused by Mr. Carr's hatred and his accusations. We don't turn anybody away, and don't insult persons who believe differently than we do. But, strangely enough, I know of no one in my entire denomination who thinks of the doctrine of the virgin birth as central to their belief system. Indeed, the vast majority don't even believe in it. Yet they still consider themselves faithful Christians. 

When Jimmy Carr called the Christian in his audience "f*cking gullible," he got the biggest applause up to that point in his routine. It was not risqué on his part, but a safe joke to insult someone's faith. Personally, I take my cue from my maternal grandmother who told me when I was a little child that Mormon missionaries had visited her husband (my grandfather). She didn't agree with them, but she didn't insult them. "Joseph Smith said he saw an angel," she told me; "who am I to say he didn't?" Christians as a group should be more tolerant. But we're not the only ones who are guilty of intolerance. Others could learn a thing or two from my grandmother as well.

It's Flag Day

The Star-Spangled Banner is our national anthem, but this song is officially our national march.

My Heart Gushes

My heart overflows with a goodly theme; I address my verses to the king; my tongue is like the pen of a ready scribe.

You are the most handsome of men; grace is poured upon your lips; therefore God has blessed you forever.

—Psalm 45:1-2

The overflowing spoken of in Psalm 45:1 was translated by Calvin as boiling over, since the Hebrew word רָ֘חַ֤שׁ literally means to bubble or boil. I think a better translation in English would be, My heart gushes, since that is what we say we do when we heap praise upon somebody.

But upon whom is praise being heaped in Psalm 45? It is thought that this psalm was ostensibly about Solomon, which Calvin acknowledged. But he had a different theory as to its true subject: "The Holy Spirit is not accustomed to inspire the servants of God to utter great swelling words, and to pour forth empty sounds into the air; and, therefore, we may naturally conclude, that the subject here treated of is not merely a transitory and earthly kingdom, but something more excellent."

In other words, the earthly king is a type for Christ, the Ruler of an eternal kingdom. Thus the words of the 45th Psalm are spoken not directly to the king, but indirectly with Christ as intermediary. In Life Together, Dietrich Bonhoeffer said something similar about how Christians are to interact:

"Human love is directed to the other person for [their] own sake, spiritual love loves [them] for Christ's sake. Therefore, human love seeks direct contact with the other person; it loves [them] not as a free person but as one whom it binds to itself. It wants to gain, to capture by every means; it uses force. It desires to be irresistible, to rule... We have one another only through Christ, but through Christ we do have one another, wholly, for eternity."

Help me to know my sisters and brothers not from a human point of view, Lord, but as fellow objects of your love. Amen.

Not by Their Own Sword

For not by their own sword did they win the land, nor did their own arm give them victory; but your right hand, and your arm, and the light of your countenance, for you delighted in them.

—Psalm 44:3

We spend far too much time in this nation worshiping weapons and those who carry them. The Bible knows nothing of this—something emphasized throughout the psalms. The point is that God's arm is our strength, God's light is our guide. To make heroes of those in the armed forces while ignoring other faithful persons fulfilling their calling is idolatry and indicative of our misplaced priorities.

Help me maintain my faith in you, Lord, and keep me from worshiping those who do their jobs—even those who act according to your will. Amen.

UCC Hymnals

The current hymnal of the United Church of Christ is The New Century Hymnal, published in 1995, which is viewed as rather radical in its use of inclusive language and alternate metaphors for God. This the second hymnal of the denomination, the first being The Hymnal of the United Church of Christ, which was published in 1974. This means that for the first 17 years of the UCC's existence, the hymnals of its predecessor denominations were the only official ones.

These two hymnals were the Pilgrim Hymnal of the Congregational Christian Churches (1931) and The Hymnal of the Evangelical & Reformed Church (1941). Both of these hymnals were very good collections—each an excellent servant of its respective denomination, and in their own way, far better than the 1974 hymnal that replaced them. 

This Sunday, I'm going to compare the metaphors we use for God to snapshots, that is, impressions from a particular time and place that cannot completely represent the infinite and eternal nature of the Divine—one such metaphor being God the Father. And since it's also Father's Day, I'm going to eschew the New Century Hymnal in worship and use hymns from the hymnals of our predecessor denominations. From The Hymnal: Father, We Praise Thee Now the Night Is Over (№ 44), and Faith of Our Fathers (№ 282). And from the Pilgrim Hymnal: The Lord's My Shepherd (№ 84), and This is My Father's World (№ 65). 

This last one is interesting because there are two endings to the text, each of which is common, depending on the tradition of the hymnal. As it turns out, the Congregational Christians used one ending:

• This is my Father's world:
  Why should my heart be sad?
  The Lord is King: let the heavens ring!
  God reigns; let earth be glad! 

and the E&R Church used the other:

• This is my Father’s world:
  The battle is not done!
  Jesus who died shall be satisfied,
  and earth and heaven be one.

While I am departing from current UCC practice in my hymn choices this Sunday, I felt that the Congregational ending was nonetheless more in keeping with the current theological emphasis of our denomination, and that's why I chose that particular version. It didn't hurt that this was also the text used by the United Methodist Church in which I grew up.

 

Your Light and Your Truth

O send out your light and your truth; let them lead me; let them bring me to your holy hill and to your dwelling. 

—Psalm 43:3

Enlightenment may take many forms, and the source of light may vary from epiphany to epiphany, from one truth to the next. It is common these days to emphasize one's inner light, imagining that if we simply follow our own instincts, we will not err. 

Nothing, of course, could be less true. The human will, in bondage as it is to sin, is no guide to truth. This is as true on an individual basis as it is in a group setting. As individuals we are too ignorant, and as a large group, we find encouragement for our own prejudices when we encounter them in others. What was Hitler doing but using his own inner light as a guide? And what were the millions who followed him along his path doing but excusing their own behavior because everyone else was going in the same direction?

No, the light I must follow and the truth toward which I travel must be none other than God's light—a light which shines on realities that I must sometimes face against my will, and a truth that might well expose my own assumptions as faulty at best, or, at worst, lies. Christ's path led up to Calvary before it led him to the garden on Easter morning, and the light of God shone upon a cross before it burst forth from an empty tomb.

Send out your light and your truth, O God. Let it be they that guide me—through happiness and difficulty—into your presence; in Jesus' Name. Amen.

Why Are You Cast Down?

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.

—Psalm 42:11

Three times in Psalm 42, we read of the psalmist's soul being cast down, and three times this prostration (for indeed, that's what the Hebrew word means) has a response. The first (v. 5) and last (v. 11) time, the response is hope. And in the middle (v. 6) the response is memory.

The person of faith is indeed sometimes brought low by troubles, but we remember and we hope:

For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.

—Jeremiah 29:11

Why am I cast down? Good question. And I may not like—or even know—the answer. But I can remember a past when I felt God near, and I can hope for a future when I feel God near once again.

I know there are times when I will be downcast, Lord, whether in body or spirit. I would dare ask to avoid those times. But even more importantly, I ask you that there never be a time in my life that I am bereft of either the knowledge of your grace or hope for a future secure in your love; in Jesus' Name. Amen.

40 Souls to Keep

Rating: ⚅

❦ This one surprised me. I didn't know what to expect from Libby Drew's 40 Souls to Keep (Carina Press 2012) and I'd never heard of the author before (digitally) "picking up" this book. Moreover the basis of the plot was unique to my experience: A man wakes up on a park bench with no memory of who he is, where he is, or how he got there. All he has to go by is the number 40 tattooed on his arm. He discovers that the tattoo represents the number of people he needs to heal—not just random sick people, but the 40 specific people he's intended for.

Not expecting much, I started reading. As with most books, it started out a bit slow, but not too slow to keep me reading. Turns out, 40 Souls is one quarter fantasy, one third mystery, and one half romance—which all adds up to a ⚅. Once it finally got underway, it moved quickly. The characters were well developed and likable. The hook at the end was not only unexpected, but came to light in the most interesting way and at the best possible point in the novel.

Most books I'd read for quite a while rolled low numbers, but several lately have rolled ⚅'s. For this reason, I nearly gave this one a ⚄, simply because it's not very artsy and isn't a Times best-seller. But, considering I was as intrigued and entertained by 40 Souls as I'd been by anything in quite a while, I had to be honest and admit that it rolled a ⚅.

The Ravens' Payback

A Sermon on 1 Kings 17:1-7

The ravens owed God a favor. A few hundred years earlier, when Moses was laying down the Law to the Israelites, God had put it into his head to declare some animals clean, and some animals unclean. Clean animals were those whose meat the Israelites could eat. Unclean animals were those whose meat they were forbidden to eat. There were all kinds of categories and virtually every animal found in that part of the world was covered by these dietary rules—the fish of the sea, the animals on the land, and the birds of the air. Among the birds of the air which the Israelites were forbidden to eat were, you got it, the ravens. It actually should come as no surprise that ravens were declared unclean according to the Law of Moses. They were, after all, predators, and predatory animals were almost never considered kosher. But ravens would have been considered especially unclean, for they also ate carrion.

Did it bother the ravens that God declared them unclean? Not in the least. Ravens have never been particularly concerned with what others thought of them—and the fact that neither God nor God’s chosen human beings approved of their diet didn’t bother them in the least. The way they looked at it, “If what we eat keeps us from being eaten, then what do we care if we’re labeled ‘unclean’?”

But just because ravens are indifferent, don’t let it be said that they lack any sense of appreciation. They owed God a favor, and they knew it. But what could a raven do for the Almighty? 

Deep Calls to Deep

Deep calls to deep at the thunder of your cataracts; all your waves and your billows have gone over me.

—Psalm 42:7

Calvin interprets the depths referred to in Psalm 42:7 very negatively: When once [God's] anger is kindled against us, there will be not only one depth to swallow us up, but depth will call unto depth. In other words, when one deep calls to another, I am well and truly sunk.

But I would disagree with him. Yes, perhaps the first deep is the depth of despair, the misery in which I find myself. And yes, when that's where I am, it's usually due to my own doing. But I think there's another interpretation for that second depth. And it's quite scriptural. 

Here are a couple of verses, one from each testament: 

For the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God. 

—1 Cor. 2:10b 

Can you find out the deep things of God? Can you find out the limit of the Almighty? 

—Job 11:7

Thus, when I am in over my head—even (especially?) when I'm in so deep that I can't save myself—the very depths that surround me call out to the deep things of God.

Better yet, when I am in the depths of despair and cannot help myself, could it be that the first deep in Psalm 42:7 is, in fact, the depths of God calling to me in the place where I am—that being the aforementioned second deep? Theologically, this makes more sense, since God does the calling, and I respond not of my own power, but through the Spirit at work in me.

I am in over my head, Lord, and I cannot save myself. Though I am deaf to you in my current state, yet by the power of your Spirit and through the work of Christ on the cross, I have hope that I can hear and respond. Even now, I am beginning to realize that my depths have delivered me into your depths. And for that I am eternally grateful. Amen.

Summer Saturday

Saturday morning breakfast on the deck.

The Desire of Your Heart

As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God.

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and behold the face of God?

—Psalm 42:1-2

"If your desire lies open to him who is your Father and who sees in secret, he will answer you. For the desire of your heart is itself your prayer. And if the desire is constant, so is your prayer."

—Augustine of Hippo

You have made me for yourself and restless is my heart until it comes to rest in you. Grant me, O Lord, to know and understand whether first to invoke you or to praise you; whether first to know you or call upon you.

—Augustine of Hippo

Maurice

Rating: ⚅

❦ E.M. Forster's Maurice is a novel of love, hopelessness, and, in the end, a quiet triumph. The prose is magnificent and the story compelling. True to the author's evident design, the eponymous character does little to ingratiate himself to the reader until well into the novel, but in the end redeems himself through decency, courage, and commitment. Maurice was written between 1913 and 1914, but, because of the subject matter, remained unpublished for nearly 60 years. It rolls a definite ⚅.

Everlasting to Everlasting

But you have upheld me because of my integrity, and set me in your presence forever.

Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, from everlasting to everlasting. Amen and Amen.

—Psalm 41:12-13

Here thanksgiving to God is addressed not to a cosmic Being to whom I cannot relate except through a vague appreciation of creation, but to the God of Israel, the God who has made God's Self known in the history of a specific people through revelation, deliverance, and continued guidance. This same God is the God who entered history in the Person of Jesus Christ: God's perfect Revelation, my Deliverer and Guide. The thanksgiving due this God has no expiration date. The religion revealed to Moses and made complete in Jesus Christ is, indeed, as alive today as it was on both Mount Sinai and Mount Calvary. 

You made yourself known to my ancestors, God. And you are still known to me today: Creation is yours, but history as well, and in Christ you have redeemed both creation and history. Blessed be your Name yesterday, today, and forever more. Amen and amen.

Consider the Poor

Happy are those who consider the poor; the Lord delivers them in the day of trouble.

—Psalm 41:1

The psalms make me sound like a broken record. But perhaps that's because the psalms sound like a broken record. Here, once again, we hear the psalmist advocating for the poor. Since I've covered this topic (and how I think my own nation—especially the people in it who call themselves "Christians"—is falling far short) from my own literal reading, I'll turn this time to John Calvin, whose interpretation differs, but is no less valid, interesting, and applicable to my life.

Calvin maintains that, rather than a literal interpretation of "consider the poor" as referring to poverty, it is better to think of how quick people are to judge the afflicted: People get what they deserve. In other words, I am to "consider the poor" precisely because I am too quick to dismiss the afflicted as being responsible for their own state. This is precisely the sort of "consideration" Jesus was calling for in his response to the question, "Who sinned that this man was born blind—he or his parents?" His response: "Neither—he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him" [John 9:2-3].

And so when I encounter the poor—whether they are poor because they have no possessions or poor in the sense that they are afflicted—I should engage them. Whoever they are, it is possible to see in them the image of God and to learn from them something new about the glory of their Creator.

Forbid it, Lord, that when I encounter someone in poverty or someone afflicted, I should pass by without giving a thought to who they are, what their story is, how you are at work in their lives, or how I might help. Give me the grace and the strength to serve you by serving my neighbor, in Jesus' Name. Amen.