Proper 3
Isaiah 49:8-16a
Psalm 131
1 Corinthians 4:1-5
Matthew 6:24-34
Life has a language.
And once again Scripture has a word for us.
There are few passages in which Jesus' teaching about life is as direct, poetic, and as wise as today's reading. We meet Jesus the teacher, Jesus the poet who learns from the fields and the birds of the air, and Jesus the wise man whose wisdom surpasses that of Solomon. In each instance his words are about life.
Jesus' words as a teacher are sharp and direct. “You cannot serve God and wealth,” he says. One must make a choice. It is a choice that Jesus himself made one day when he was in the desert and, famished, he was tempted to turn stones into bread. We do not live by bread alone, he responded, laying the foundation for the words he would say later in his ministry. “Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?”
The answer to his rhetorical question is, “Yes!” The “more” involves an abiding trust in God. After the temptation, angels would stop by and tend to the thirsty and famished Jesus. The “more” involves taking seriously the connection between God and our needs. We observe this connection every time we sit down at the table and say grace before a meal. In this way the meal is no longer “just food,” it is a gift that allows us to say “thank you” with our heart, our mind, and our strength.
Jesus then waxes poetic. It is not the first time scripture turns to the natural world to deliver its message. When God spoke to Job from the whirlwind he referred to the hail, the wind, the stars; the lip of a wave that washes ashore, stops at a certain point, and then retreats back into the sea. Creation is mysterious but well ordered. Nothing is overlooked, forgotten, or outside the ring of God's providential care. Jesus asks us to observe creation and to learn from it. The text that started by stressing connection has now moved to coherence.
Lest we be overly entranced by the sheer poetry of his words, Jesus makes sure we will not miss the point. “Do not worry, saying, 'what will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ ”
Our life, he says, is more than the circumstances of our lives. He says this knowing that the circumstances of our lives are indeed difficult, and that they tend to become all-consuming. Yesterday I happened to be speaking with a hospital administrator who remarked that the current recession couldn't help but put a squeeze on hospitals. As more and more families are unable to pay their medical bills the system can't help but wonder how it is going to keep up.
I think back to church committee meetings in which concerns about the church almost overshadowed our love for the mission and ministry of the church. We were indeed those of “little faith” as circumstance – too thin an offering, too small a congregation, too many conflicting personalities, too few connections with the wider world, all took their toll. There was a sense in which we thought we were being responsible by giving attention to every problem we could find. But pretty soon we noticed that there was more to life than analysis, more to church than budgetary shortfalls, more to community than just our members, and more to our presence than the sum total of our own energy.
In short, worry had taken its toll. Worry is a strange thing. It is invariably correct. But it solves nothing and does not lead to action. And so agency and hope makes their appearance in the text. Instead of worrying we are to serve God all the more. Instead of feeding on despair we are to find hope. Had Jesus turned the stones into bread he would have soon been hungry once again. Instead he waited for the angels to make their unexpected appearance.
Life invariably demands a string of choices. We can connect with God, or we can distrust God. We can learn from creation or we can disregard its teachings and try to control our own lives as though we were the only game in town.
That's not to say, however, that these choices are easy. As Gary and I were writing the Leading Causes of Life it kept striking me that they would not allow for “pretend.” Each of the causes has a raw and visceral edge. It takes courage to keep hope alive in the face of medical catastrophe. It takes sheer guts to trust in creation's order when one has lost a job, or when natural disaster plays its hand.
I have always found bible study to be an essential part of sermon preparation. Bible studies form an intersection of connection and coherence as a small group meets to see what the Word has to say, and how lives can be shared. At this week's session everyone in the circle was well over 80 years old, and few of them could fend for themselves. We read the passage, and almost immediately a question surfaced.
“If we were in Burma, and our home had been swept away, could we preach this passage?”
“Or what if we were in China?” asked another.
“I don't think so,” said one elderly woman. “I just don't think you could. It wouldn't be right to preach this to a group of starving people.”
“But I think you could,” said another. “The Scripture is about worry. It doesn't say we're not supposed to care.”
“It’s about keeping God first,'” adds another of the women.
“If we do that we'll know what to do.”
We talk for a moment about the choices churches make. One of the women works the church food shelf which has had an increasing number of people to serve. Another remembers folding used clothing to give away. I think of my visits home where my 89 year-old father invariably asks me to help him pick up groceries at his Quaker church and take them over to the Lutheran church for distribution. We remember Katrina and the way churches opened their doors to those in need. We realize that worry didn't inspire any of this. It was motivated by concern.
For life to speak we must find the courage to move worry to the side. It is not something we can do alone. It is best done together. And, we realized, this is indeed what churches do.
I close with the text itself, thankful for Jesus the teacher, Jesus the poet, and Jesus the seer who asks us to keep in mind that the day has troubles of its own and while it calls for our lives, it certainly does not need our worries.
Thanks be to God, and thanks be to you.
Matthew 6:24-34
No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?
Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing?
Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?
Therefore do not worry, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear?' For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.
But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Friday, May 23, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, May 18, 2008
Trinity Sunday
Genesis 1:1-2:4a
Ps 8
2 Corinthians 13:11-13
Matt 28:16-20
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
Before Pentecost, our Lectionary readings spoke of agency. Something was going to happen that would activate our lives. It would send us from a locked room into the world assuring us we are never alone and that we are called to serve wherever we may be.
Last Sunday we decked the church in red to celebrate the Spirit's astonishing arrival. Red stoles that had been stored in dark closets made their way to the shoulders of clergy whose sermons invariably said, “Look what happened!” and then added, “It is still happening if we let it!” Sermons ended with benedictions asking parishioners to “go forth” into the world knowing they had an Advocate, a Sustainer, and a Comforter. And then the banners are put away and we live in the embers of Pentecost's staggering power.
Flames are good, but often embers are better. We can carry embers with us, we can live with them knowing they will carry their warmth and the potential of light for many days. They can light fires when needed, be carried on the wind from time to time, and can warm the earth as well as the air. We have a long time to live in the embers of Pentecost. The green banners we put in place will stay in place until late November when the snows of a new church year bring us into Advent. It is not surprising that the language of scripture adjusts as well. Agency may ignite our lives into action, but the coherence of creation takes time. God did not create the world and its many inhabitants in a flash. Like our lives the creation happened over time.
We read the long Genesis passage and marvel once again at its patient beauty.
On all sides God gives form to that which had been formless and illuminates that which had been covered in darkness. Order replaces chaos. Dry land is given its place, the waters are given their place, animals have their place, trees their place, the sky its place, fish and birds their place, and humankind and even its relationship with creation has its place. Nothing is out of order.
From scripture we take our cue.
What is it that churches do? They bring order to our lives, harmony to our communities, and healing when chaos threatens what God created. We enter churches in search of healing, in search of understanding, in need of both strength and mending. Whether we seek creation or recreation we anticipate and hope for order.
And what is it that hospitals do? They also bring order into our lives. I write these words a day after Connie and I returned home after a two-day hospital stay. Its purpose was to determine why the pain in her body had grown increasingly disabling, and to see what could be done about it. Many incisions later we hope that life will prevail, that creation's power will turn back pain that had no boundaries.
We were both touched by, and struck by, the sheer beauty of the experience in the hospital, difficult though the surgery was. The five lenses of our Leading Causes of Life— connection, coherence, agency, hope and blessing – helped frame the experience. The hallways of the new building were bright and beautiful, the windows flooded with light, the artwork in the hallways stunning in its reminder of creation's intrinsic harmony. Even the signs that showed us where to go were clear, elegant and meaningful. One could not get “lost” in this house of healing.
As I sat in the surgical waiting room, and as the hour got later and later, the attendant went out of her way to keep tabs on both how I was doing and on the status of Connie's surgery. Noting that it had all taken a very long time, she called the doctor to make sure he would be stopping by. The Spirit of Pentecost, who promised we would not be alone, seemed to supply a woman who for 27 years cared for people who sat in that room wondering if the disorder of disease could be excised, if healing might return, if hope would present itself anew.
After Connie was wheeled to her room, the nurses that arrived were a study in the confluence of coherence and connection. There was nothing haphazard about their presence. Their spirits were alert, their voices confident, their questions both incisive and searching, their sense of compassion deep, their humor quick. They were doing life's work with skill, care and an understanding that healing called for and received all of their attention.
The place may be a hospital. Or it may be a church. Or it may be a body. Whatever the place, healing is the call and creation the process through which we speak the language of life that emphasizes coherence, connection, hope and blessing. In each place there is much to be concerned about.
Chaos does indeed threaten us. Not every hospital connection turns out to be healing. Not every sermon inspires hope, and not every church is aware of its neighbors or of the storms that threaten the lives of parishioners. There are governments that refuse to allow healers, medicines and food to enter “their” country. In our own country the cost of healing often breaks the backs of those in need of care. Restoring order, indeed perhaps even insisting on it, calls for all the strength and discipline we can muster. It is a life-centered discipline that requires and occupies our full attention.
We are not surprised creation took seven days. Neither are we surprised that working with the Spirit that spoke to us on Pentecost requires a string of Sundays that take us from spring into summer and then into the fall. We may refer to these Sundays as “ordinary time” but with our ear attuned to life we know there is nothing ordinary about it.
Throughout it all coherence plays its hand. “Put things in order,” Paul wrote to the church in Corinth.
And so we do. Over at the hospital, here at home, and in our churches we seek yet again to put things in order. It is, of course, the way of life.
2 Corinthians 13:11-13
Finally, brothers and sisters, farewell. Put things in order, listen to my appeal, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you. Greet one another with a holy kiss. All the saints greet you.
The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Genesis 1:1-2:4a
Ps 8
2 Corinthians 13:11-13
Matt 28:16-20
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
Before Pentecost, our Lectionary readings spoke of agency. Something was going to happen that would activate our lives. It would send us from a locked room into the world assuring us we are never alone and that we are called to serve wherever we may be.
Last Sunday we decked the church in red to celebrate the Spirit's astonishing arrival. Red stoles that had been stored in dark closets made their way to the shoulders of clergy whose sermons invariably said, “Look what happened!” and then added, “It is still happening if we let it!” Sermons ended with benedictions asking parishioners to “go forth” into the world knowing they had an Advocate, a Sustainer, and a Comforter. And then the banners are put away and we live in the embers of Pentecost's staggering power.
Flames are good, but often embers are better. We can carry embers with us, we can live with them knowing they will carry their warmth and the potential of light for many days. They can light fires when needed, be carried on the wind from time to time, and can warm the earth as well as the air. We have a long time to live in the embers of Pentecost. The green banners we put in place will stay in place until late November when the snows of a new church year bring us into Advent. It is not surprising that the language of scripture adjusts as well. Agency may ignite our lives into action, but the coherence of creation takes time. God did not create the world and its many inhabitants in a flash. Like our lives the creation happened over time.
We read the long Genesis passage and marvel once again at its patient beauty.
On all sides God gives form to that which had been formless and illuminates that which had been covered in darkness. Order replaces chaos. Dry land is given its place, the waters are given their place, animals have their place, trees their place, the sky its place, fish and birds their place, and humankind and even its relationship with creation has its place. Nothing is out of order.
From scripture we take our cue.
What is it that churches do? They bring order to our lives, harmony to our communities, and healing when chaos threatens what God created. We enter churches in search of healing, in search of understanding, in need of both strength and mending. Whether we seek creation or recreation we anticipate and hope for order.
And what is it that hospitals do? They also bring order into our lives. I write these words a day after Connie and I returned home after a two-day hospital stay. Its purpose was to determine why the pain in her body had grown increasingly disabling, and to see what could be done about it. Many incisions later we hope that life will prevail, that creation's power will turn back pain that had no boundaries.
We were both touched by, and struck by, the sheer beauty of the experience in the hospital, difficult though the surgery was. The five lenses of our Leading Causes of Life— connection, coherence, agency, hope and blessing – helped frame the experience. The hallways of the new building were bright and beautiful, the windows flooded with light, the artwork in the hallways stunning in its reminder of creation's intrinsic harmony. Even the signs that showed us where to go were clear, elegant and meaningful. One could not get “lost” in this house of healing.
As I sat in the surgical waiting room, and as the hour got later and later, the attendant went out of her way to keep tabs on both how I was doing and on the status of Connie's surgery. Noting that it had all taken a very long time, she called the doctor to make sure he would be stopping by. The Spirit of Pentecost, who promised we would not be alone, seemed to supply a woman who for 27 years cared for people who sat in that room wondering if the disorder of disease could be excised, if healing might return, if hope would present itself anew.
After Connie was wheeled to her room, the nurses that arrived were a study in the confluence of coherence and connection. There was nothing haphazard about their presence. Their spirits were alert, their voices confident, their questions both incisive and searching, their sense of compassion deep, their humor quick. They were doing life's work with skill, care and an understanding that healing called for and received all of their attention.
The place may be a hospital. Or it may be a church. Or it may be a body. Whatever the place, healing is the call and creation the process through which we speak the language of life that emphasizes coherence, connection, hope and blessing. In each place there is much to be concerned about.
Chaos does indeed threaten us. Not every hospital connection turns out to be healing. Not every sermon inspires hope, and not every church is aware of its neighbors or of the storms that threaten the lives of parishioners. There are governments that refuse to allow healers, medicines and food to enter “their” country. In our own country the cost of healing often breaks the backs of those in need of care. Restoring order, indeed perhaps even insisting on it, calls for all the strength and discipline we can muster. It is a life-centered discipline that requires and occupies our full attention.
We are not surprised creation took seven days. Neither are we surprised that working with the Spirit that spoke to us on Pentecost requires a string of Sundays that take us from spring into summer and then into the fall. We may refer to these Sundays as “ordinary time” but with our ear attuned to life we know there is nothing ordinary about it.
Throughout it all coherence plays its hand. “Put things in order,” Paul wrote to the church in Corinth.
And so we do. Over at the hospital, here at home, and in our churches we seek yet again to put things in order. It is, of course, the way of life.
2 Corinthians 13:11-13
Finally, brothers and sisters, farewell. Put things in order, listen to my appeal, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you. Greet one another with a holy kiss. All the saints greet you.
The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, May 4, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, May 4, 2008
Seventh Sunday of Easter
Acts 1:6-14
Ps 68:1-10, 32-35
1 Pet 4:12-14; 5:6-11
John 17:1-11
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
To everything there is a season, we read in Ecclesiastes. If our five causes — connection, coherence, agency, hope and blessing—reflect the basic structure of life's language — it should not be surprising that each cause has a corresponding liturgical season.
In Advent we anticipate the great connection when the Word becomes flesh and dwells among us.
In Lent we realize our lives need pruning if coherence is to take the place of chaos.
On Easter Sunday hope proves to be well-founded.
And on Pentecost, agency has its day as God asks us to hear something, to speak something, to do something trusting that the Holy Sprit will be our Advocate and Comforter.
In each season, and in the “in-between times” we give and receive blessings each and every day.
For seven consecutive Sundays the Lectionary texts have been preparing us for Pentecost. Although we think of Pentecost as a single day rather than a season, the Lectionary goes out of its way to point out that it is a season that requires both preparation and celebration. “Get ready! Prepare!” the texts seem to say. Having shared that his time with them would soon come to an end and that the Spirit would soon arrive, the Lectionary turns to Peter to show us how to wait.
The first word, “Beloved” is a sermon in and of itself. It is love that connects us with God and with each other. And it is love that defines us as a family. By necessity it is an intensely personal word. “Dearly beloved,” we often say to our parishioners. The two words create a world of meaning, provide a blessed assurance, and create a congregation.
Peter goes on to give practical advice.
“Do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you as though something strange was harassing you.” We are tempted to think we are the only ones who have suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, as Hamlet put it. But such a perception would be false. Instead we are to realize that whatever misfortune we have experience has been experienced by many others as well. It is par for the course. Peter writes not to an individual but to a group.
There is strength in solidarity. It is incredibly healing when one realizes his or her experience is shared by others. At an AA meeting the alcoholic realizes he or she can say, “Me too.” At a cancer group, the same words are said. What once appeared as an exceptional experience, as a break in the order we expect for our lives turns out to provide a new common and sacred ground well-traveled by both fellow citizens and Christ.
Then Peter tells us what we are to do. Four verbs set the stage. We are to:
Humble ourselves. We do this by learning to let go and let God, by realizing there are some things we can change and some things we must learn to accept.
Cast all our anxieties on God. In our desire to be responsible we are tempted to cast some of our anxieties, or to trust God with the nonessentials rather than the essentials. But Peter calls for courage and asks us to cast all our anxieties on God.
Once we have done this we are to discipline ourselves. We are to practice trusting God and sharing our lives with others. We are to practice recognizing Christ's presence in all things. It will take discipline to not be overcome by the Adversary who is skilled in the language of death. We are to practice life and resist death.
We are not, however, the only actors. There are also four verbs that describe God's actions. God will restore, support, strengthen and establish us.
Once a week I am blessed to share worship with those whose entire lives would seem to be swept away. No longer able to be cared for by their family, they are now in a long-term care facility. Some can no longer speak, others can no longer remember the names of their sons or daughters, others are not sure where they are. Were one keeping score one might be overwhelmed by loss. But that is not what happens.
The day room in which they gather for devotions is invariably bright at ten o'clock in the morning. I take out my banjo and begin to play. A few people slowly arrive to see what's happening. A few more make their way into the light and look around to see who's there in the welcoming space. Around the corner I see the quiet steps of a walker proceed an inch or two, wait for a moment, and then move forward once again. Soon we are gathered and begin to sing. They sit side by side, aware of each other not by name but by spirit.
It is incredibly beautiful, this living in humility, this presence of life when so much has been taken away. It is incredibly moving, this trusting the day to God. And, for me, it is incredibly sustaining to learn from their discipline that says “it is time for worship, let's follow the music.”
In one fell swoop God supports, strengthens and establishes. Suffering, while palpable and undeniable, makes way for the restoration of life.
Get ready! The text tells us! Much is happening. Open the closet and find the red banners. Next Sunday you'll want them as Pentecost asks us to continue the Spirit's work anew.
We who received the light are to live it. Thanks be to God. Thanks be to the God of life.
1 Pet 4:12-14; 5:6-11
Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice in so far as you are sharing Christ’s sufferings, so that you may also be glad and shout for joy when his glory is revealed. If you are reviled for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the spirit of glory, which is the Spirit of God, is resting on you.
Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you. Discipline yourselves; keep alert. Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour. Resist him, steadfast in your faith, for you know that your brothers and sisters throughout the world are undergoing the same kinds of suffering. And after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, support, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Seventh Sunday of Easter
Acts 1:6-14
Ps 68:1-10, 32-35
1 Pet 4:12-14; 5:6-11
John 17:1-11
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
To everything there is a season, we read in Ecclesiastes. If our five causes — connection, coherence, agency, hope and blessing—reflect the basic structure of life's language — it should not be surprising that each cause has a corresponding liturgical season.
In Advent we anticipate the great connection when the Word becomes flesh and dwells among us.
In Lent we realize our lives need pruning if coherence is to take the place of chaos.
On Easter Sunday hope proves to be well-founded.
And on Pentecost, agency has its day as God asks us to hear something, to speak something, to do something trusting that the Holy Sprit will be our Advocate and Comforter.
In each season, and in the “in-between times” we give and receive blessings each and every day.
For seven consecutive Sundays the Lectionary texts have been preparing us for Pentecost. Although we think of Pentecost as a single day rather than a season, the Lectionary goes out of its way to point out that it is a season that requires both preparation and celebration. “Get ready! Prepare!” the texts seem to say. Having shared that his time with them would soon come to an end and that the Spirit would soon arrive, the Lectionary turns to Peter to show us how to wait.
The first word, “Beloved” is a sermon in and of itself. It is love that connects us with God and with each other. And it is love that defines us as a family. By necessity it is an intensely personal word. “Dearly beloved,” we often say to our parishioners. The two words create a world of meaning, provide a blessed assurance, and create a congregation.
Peter goes on to give practical advice.
“Do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you as though something strange was harassing you.” We are tempted to think we are the only ones who have suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, as Hamlet put it. But such a perception would be false. Instead we are to realize that whatever misfortune we have experience has been experienced by many others as well. It is par for the course. Peter writes not to an individual but to a group.
There is strength in solidarity. It is incredibly healing when one realizes his or her experience is shared by others. At an AA meeting the alcoholic realizes he or she can say, “Me too.” At a cancer group, the same words are said. What once appeared as an exceptional experience, as a break in the order we expect for our lives turns out to provide a new common and sacred ground well-traveled by both fellow citizens and Christ.
Then Peter tells us what we are to do. Four verbs set the stage. We are to:
Humble ourselves. We do this by learning to let go and let God, by realizing there are some things we can change and some things we must learn to accept.
Cast all our anxieties on God. In our desire to be responsible we are tempted to cast some of our anxieties, or to trust God with the nonessentials rather than the essentials. But Peter calls for courage and asks us to cast all our anxieties on God.
Once we have done this we are to discipline ourselves. We are to practice trusting God and sharing our lives with others. We are to practice recognizing Christ's presence in all things. It will take discipline to not be overcome by the Adversary who is skilled in the language of death. We are to practice life and resist death.
We are not, however, the only actors. There are also four verbs that describe God's actions. God will restore, support, strengthen and establish us.
Once a week I am blessed to share worship with those whose entire lives would seem to be swept away. No longer able to be cared for by their family, they are now in a long-term care facility. Some can no longer speak, others can no longer remember the names of their sons or daughters, others are not sure where they are. Were one keeping score one might be overwhelmed by loss. But that is not what happens.
The day room in which they gather for devotions is invariably bright at ten o'clock in the morning. I take out my banjo and begin to play. A few people slowly arrive to see what's happening. A few more make their way into the light and look around to see who's there in the welcoming space. Around the corner I see the quiet steps of a walker proceed an inch or two, wait for a moment, and then move forward once again. Soon we are gathered and begin to sing. They sit side by side, aware of each other not by name but by spirit.
It is incredibly beautiful, this living in humility, this presence of life when so much has been taken away. It is incredibly moving, this trusting the day to God. And, for me, it is incredibly sustaining to learn from their discipline that says “it is time for worship, let's follow the music.”
In one fell swoop God supports, strengthens and establishes. Suffering, while palpable and undeniable, makes way for the restoration of life.
Get ready! The text tells us! Much is happening. Open the closet and find the red banners. Next Sunday you'll want them as Pentecost asks us to continue the Spirit's work anew.
We who received the light are to live it. Thanks be to God. Thanks be to the God of life.
1 Pet 4:12-14; 5:6-11
Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice in so far as you are sharing Christ’s sufferings, so that you may also be glad and shout for joy when his glory is revealed. If you are reviled for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the spirit of glory, which is the Spirit of God, is resting on you.
Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you. Discipline yourselves; keep alert. Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour. Resist him, steadfast in your faith, for you know that your brothers and sisters throughout the world are undergoing the same kinds of suffering. And after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, support, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
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