Luke - Beach Theology

Signal-to-Noise Ratio

It’s easy to get lost in the tasks we have in front of us. They often become more important than our reasons for doing them. Likewise, we can be overwhelmed by words and information and stop really listening so that we respond to events more emotionally.

All the varied responses to the Zimmerman verdict have made me wonder where people were getting their information – on both sides. The media had such influence in this case from the very beginning. And this week I read a lot of impassioned words and calls for action on both sides. On the positive side, some people will follow through and work to further civil rights. For others, the words they posted on Facebook will be the only action they take.

Last week the Good Samaritan passage indicated that eternal life has something to do with loving and merciful actions. This week’s text tells us what must inform those actions. Too often we become disconnected from the reason why we do what we do. Martha may have had this problem. She might have forgotten that all things did not have to be so completely perfect that she did not have time to spend with her guest. Her cooking and preparing had become the activities in and of themselves; she had forgotten why and for whom she was engaging in them.

Now I find myself asking what words, what information most often informs my actions? And then what actions do I take? and are they meaningful for anyone? What I take away from Mary and Martha this week is that if I want my life to be loving and merciful rather than filled with empty words and actions, then I need to spend more time sitting at Jesus feet and listening.

RCL – Year C – Ninth Sunday After Pentecost – July 21, 2013

Amos 8:1-12 with Psalm 52 or
Genesis 18:1-10a with Psalm 15
Colossians 1:15-28
Luke 10:38-42

A Bidding Prayer for Neighbors

by Rachael Keefe

Come, let us pray for all God’s children.
(silence or a time for people to quietly give voice to their concerns)

God of wisdom and mystery, you populated the earth with the diversity of humanity. You delight in our differences and rejoice when we shine with the light of your love. Yet, we struggle to love our neighbors and to show mercy to those in need. Every time we turn away with eyes averted, you long for us to open our hearts. You created us all in your image. Teach us to embrace one another with your mercy.
Trusting in God’s steadfast love we pray,
Come, Holy Spirit, come.

Come let us pray for our neighbors who make up the body of Christ.
(silence or a time for people to quietly give voice to their concerns)

God of love and justice, you would have us be one body. Instead we have become masters of division. Too often we focus on our rules instead of embodying your commandment to love one another as you love us. You call us to glorify you with our worship and with our lives. Show us how to open our doors, step out of our pews, and welcome all our neighbors – without conditions and without judgment.
Trusting in God’s steadfast love we pray,
Come, Holy Spirit, come.

Come let us pray for our neighbors whom we call friends and those who are strangers.
(silence or a time for people to quietly give voice to their concerns)

God of many faces and many names, you take delight in all of your creation. Where any are gathered in your name, you are there. Your love knows no bounds or conditions. Your creation contained no border markers or country distinctions until we drew them on a map. Your intention was that we share the earth’s resources with one another. Instead we fight for power and control of resources even when it means there are those who go without. Soften our hearts that we may see that the time for mercy is now. We have enough, more than enough to share with our neighbors who may have need.
Trusting in God’s steadfast love we pray,
Come, Holy Spirit, come.

Come, let us pray for our neighbors in this country.
(silence or a time for people to quietly give voice to their concerns)

God of all nations, we pray for our country and those who lead it. You are reflected in the great variety of all the peoples who live here. You are worshipped in many ways in many languages and none are better than others. We are all neighbors here – women and men, children and elders, foreign born and born here, English speakers and broken English speakers, able bodied and disabled, educated and uneducated, healthy and sick, rich and poor, employed and unemployed, straight and gay, single and married, religious and not religious – all are equal in your sight. May the day soon arrive when we and the leaders of this country recognize you in all whom we meet.
Trusting in God’s steadfast love we pray,
Come, Holy Spirit, come.

Come, let us pray for our neighbors in need of healing.
(silence or a time for people to quietly give voice to their concerns)

God of power and promise, you call us to care for those who cannot care for themselves. We want to respond to this call, yet we often find ourselves turning away from the weakest among us. We don’t want to be neighbors with the Russian prisoners suffering from tuberculosis or the African men, women, and children who live with AIDS, or the Americans who are tormented with mental illness. We want those who are sick to keep their germs away from us. Grant us compassion enough to offer earnest prayers for healing and courage enough to reach out in genuine kindness.
Trusting in God’s steadfast love we pray,
Come, Holy Spirit, come.

Come, let us pray for our neighbors who are grieving.
(silence or a time for people to quietly give voice to their concerns)

God of life and hope, we know that many people in this community and in the world around us are grieving the loss of a loved one. Bring comfort to those who believe they will never feel peace again. Bring hope to those who are lost in the empty darkness of new grief. Ease the anger of those who have lived through a sudden loss, the survivors of suicide or homicide. Let us be true neighbors for any and all who are grieving today.
Trusting in God’s steadfast love we pray,
Come, Holy Spirit, come.

Come, let us give thanks to God for all our neighbors.
(silence or a time for people to quietly give voice to their concerns)

God of all neighbors, we give you thanks for all the people in our lives – those we love and those who challenge us to love more fully. We thank you for our neighbors who have shown us mercy and taught us to be more merciful. Thank you for our neighbors who share our lives and give us comfort. Thank you also for those who make us uncomfortable and stretch us beyond our imaginings. We are blessed to live in a world with such startling and amazing diversity. May our lives be filled with gratitude for your abundant grace and mercy revealed to us in all our neighbors.
Trusting in God’s steadfast love we pray,
Come, Holy Spirit, come. Amen.

RCL – Year C – Eighth Sunday after Pentecost – July 14, 2013
Amos 7:7-17 with Psalm 82 or
Deuteronomy 30:9-14 with Psalm 25:1-10
Colossians 1:1-14
Luke 10:25-37

Naaman, Paul, and Jesus. Who Knew?

by Rachael Keefe

Do you know how, every once in a while, a song gets into your head? Not in an earworm sort of way, but the song stays with you because it resonates with something in you? That has happened to me. For the last couple of weeks I’ve been listening to a song by Matthew West called, “Hello My Name Is.” There’s something about it that has grabbed hold of me in a way that lets me get beyond the traditional language to the heart of the message. Here are the lyrics, but I encourage you to give it a listen.

“Hello, My Name Is”
Hello, my name is regret
I’m pretty sure we have met
Every single day of your life
I’m the whisper inside
That won’t let you forget
Hello, my name is defeat
I know you recognize me
Just when you think you can win
I’ll drag you right back down again
‘Til you’ve lost all belief
These are the voices, these are the lies
And I have believed them, for the very last time
Hello, my name is child of the one true King
I’ve been saved, I’ve been changed, and I have been set free
“Amazing Grace” is the song I sing
Hello, my name is child of the one true King
I am no longer defined
By all the wreckage behind
The one who makes all things new
Has proven it’s true
Just take a look at my life
What love the Father has lavished upon us
That we should be called His children
I am a child of the one true King

It’s the idea that when we encounter God’s transforming love, we are set free from the lies we believe about ourselves. Maybe it is under the influence of this song that I read this week’s texts. But I think Naaman or one of the members of the church in Galatia or one of the seventy could have written this song.

The last time I read the 2 Kings passage about Naaman, I heard nothing but Naaman’s sense of entitlement. This time I heard a story about a man whose expectations and the lies he told himself nearly cost him a whole new life. Naaman was an important man. He had power and position and respect. He believed he deserved an audience and a personal showing from the prophet Elisha. Namaan was, after all, an Aramean and, therefore, better than an Israelite (at least to his own thinking). He had expectations about the treatment he deserved from Elisha and, likely, from the God of Israel. If not for his servants, Naaman would have remained a leper, blinded to the simple act that would bring him healing. Instead, he is healed and maybe sees himself differently as a result of God’s grace.

Seeing Naaman as one limited by his own view of himself, I thought of my patients. As a psychiatric chaplain I frequently meet people who are trapped in their own expectations and are truly blind to opportunities for healing. Unlike Naaman, these people have very poor expectations for their treatment at the hands of others. They believe themselves truly unworthy of love and compassion. They tend to dismiss the idea that life could be different for them if they could see themselves as deserving of kindness if nothing else. Their own self-hatred keeps them bound to a cycle of self-destruction. They are provided with many opportunities to make small, uncomplicated changes which they cannot bring themselves to make. They would say their names are Regret or Defeat or worse. If there is a river of healing out there, it’s for someone else.

By the time I get to the Galations reading, I’m thinking about the Naamans and the psych patients I’ve met. And I marvel at how easy it is for people to get lost in the lies we tell ourselves – for better or for worse. Then I read these words:

Do not be deceived; God is not mocked, for you reap whatever you sow. If you sow to your own flesh, you will reap corruption from the flesh; but if you sow to the Spirit, you will reap eternal life from the Spirit. So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up. So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith.

Now I’ve stopped thinking about other people and I’m questioning myself. I realize how many times I’ve been like Naaman and like my patients and I’m thinking that I’ve missed out on lots of things. I’ve not joined in very many protests against injustice… stopped using zip lock bags and bottled water… donated blood recently, gone to any disaster zones to offer aid… kept up on all the happenings of the world… taken any big risks for the sake of improving life for someone else… prayed as much as I could for Egypt, Syria, Afghanistan, Arizona, New Hampshire, my neighbors, or my loved ones… Just what am I sowing, let alone reaping?

Just when I am beginning to despair, I read the Gospel lesson. The sending of the seventy and the instructions to essentially take nothing for their journey speaks of trust. Go where you go in the name of God. Bring peace and offer peace. If it is not received, don’t dwell there. Trust God to give you what is needed. I know it’s more complicated than that, but it comes down to trust. If I put my faith in my own achievements, my expectations are going to be skewed. I could become like Naaman and believe that I deserve better and miss the simple opportunities for cleansing and healing. Or I could become like some of my patients and expect only rejection and mistreatment and miss out on love and grace. The harvest would be rather limited.

Clearly, these readings hit me where I live these days. I am still questioning my expectations and how they might hinder me along the way. I want to pay far more attention to what it is I am sowing based on those expectations. And I want to let go of all the extras I carry when I could be trusting God. I want to live the belief that I am a child of a holy God and I am saved, changed, and set free.

So, Lord, I pray for the Naamans of the world who do not have brave servants and miss bathing in humble waters. And for the times when I have been Naaman. I pray also for the brave ones who speak out in your name to humble and heal the powerful. And for the courage when it is my time to be a brave servant. I lift up those whose expectations hold them captive to illness and self-destruction. And for those who try to show them the way to the river. For all those who sow only in the moment and think nothing of the harvest that is to come. For those who think only of the harvest and have forgotten for whom they sow. For those who weary of laboring for what is right. To this I add prayers of gratitude for all those who have trusted in you and have reminded me what is possible when we follow you, and for the love you lavish on us all. Amen

RCL – Year C – Seventh Sunday After Pentecost
2 Kings 5:1-14 with Psalm 30 or
Isaiah 66:10-14 with Psalm 66:1-9
Galatians 6:(1-6), 7-16
Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

Some Unwanted Truth

by Rachael Keefe

My immediate response to this week’s readings is, “Yeah, that!” There is something about the stories of prophets that resonates deep within me. I don’t like it. I don’t want to admit it, but it’s true. Many years ago, I was preaching on Moses leading the Israelites out of Egypt. I described the role of Moses as prophetic leader of God’s people. I then went on to enumerate the ingratitude he received for all his efforts. The Israelites did not want the hardship of change and transition. They wanted familiar food and drink and comfort. They didn’t like the desert and they didn’t care what Moses was going through trying to keep God from smiting them. (Not to mention the absurdly long duration of movement from one place to another.) At one point in the sermon I said that being a prophet was the ultimate bad career move and thank God I had not been called to be a prophet. The entire congregation burst out with laughter. And I scratched my head; it wasn’t that funny.

The joke was truly on me. After worship, one of the parishioners told me I might be a bit confused. Had I not spent the last year telling the congregation that they were not being the church God created and called them to be? Had I not endured much criticism and a whole lot of resistance for the very little progress? She concluded with something like, “So tell me again that you are not a prophet.”

I like to ignore this aspect of my calling, really I do. But then I read texts like this week’s lectionary and it names the yearning I have for more justice, more action, more transformation. If that’s not enough, I also seem to have this compulsion to keep urging myself and others to be more engaged in the world. I read about Elisha picking up Elijah’s mantle and I want to applaud his persistence, question his reasoning, and affirm his cry for God’s presence. But mostly I think, sure pick up that mantle, shake the dust off, and keep moving. I’d do it without even thinking.

But the problem is that I see so much potential in people, churches, the world and I am baffled when we do not live into that potential. The fruit of the Spirit is much more enjoyable in the long run than the works of the flesh. I can’t help but rail against the acceptance of the status quo. This week I was told by a well-meaning colleague that “sometimes you just have to accept the way things are.” No! Not when there is injustice and human suffering involved. I can’t. I am simply not capable of standing around to merely witness a lack of justice. It is not in my blood.

Essentially, not only do I want more, but I believe more is possible. I want more for the people the recent Supreme Court decisions most impact. I want the hatred, fear, and ignorance to stop. I want Israel and Palestine to coexist in peace. I want Afghanistan to stand proudly on its own with peaceful relations with its neighbors. I yearn for justice in a way that often keeps me awake at night. I see the potential for us to do better and I can’t understand why we don’t.

Why is there still a death penalty? Why the inequity in our sentencing laws? Why do people fear gay marriage so much? Why do people hate and fear people who speak other languages, worship other gods, have different skin color? Why are voting rights still in question anywhere? Why is women’s health secondary to men’s health? Why does everyone not have access to healthcare? Why are people starving anywhere in the world? Why does anyone think it’s okay to genetically modify food? Why do people advocate for the continued use of carbon fuels? Why do we not demand a world that honors the fruit of the Spirit? Why do we not keep our hands on the plough?

I’m not kidding! This stuff makes me nuts. I do not understand why we let those corrupted by power and money make decisions for everyone else when the end result is often so destructive. It doesn’t make any sense to me and I have this deep yearning for more justice for all people. And, yes, I feel compelled to write such things. I truly believe that when the human spirit and the Holy Spirit join forces, all things are possible. Why do we settle for less?

RCL – Year C – Sixth Sunday After Pentecost – June 30, 2013

2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14 with Psalm 77:1-2, 11-20 or
1 Kings 19:15-16,19-21 with Psalm 16
Galatians 5:1, 13-25
Luke 9:51-62

Do You Know Where God is?

by Rachael Keefe

This week I have written a prayer that is drawn directly from the 1 Kings, Galatians, and Luke readings. These are the prayers that emerged as I read the passages. By praying the texts in this way, they become more alive, more relevant for me. Maybe this will be true for you also.

God who is present all the time – when we notice, and when we do not – hear these prayers. I lift up to you:

Those who see nothing wrong with violence and threats of more violence to get what they want

Those who need to flee to places unknown in order to save their lives

Those who feel overwhelmed by the tasks before them

Those who grieve for what was lost in tornadoes, hurricanes, or earthquakes

Those who grapple with wild fire

Those who fail to sit still long enough to hear the sound of shear silence and the still, small voice it holds

Those who spend more time focusing on whom are heirs to the promise than on the promise itself

Those who live as outcasts

Those tormented by today’s demons, legion or not quite so many

Those who are fearful of who they find sitting in the presence of Christ

Those who are afraid to sit with Jesus

Those who are terrified of transformation and healing

And for all the times and ways I am like all of these…

Amen.

RCL – Year C – Fifth

1 Kings 19:1-4,(5-7),8-15a with Psalm 42 and 43 or Sunday After Pentecost – June 23, 2013
Isaiah 65:1-9 with Psalm 22:19-28 and
Galatians 3:23-29
Luke 8:26-39

Not Exactly Original, But Sin Nonetheless

by Rachael Keefe

Scriptures about power, greed, sin, and forgiveness aren’t always welcome today. Somewhere along the line, talking about sin has gone out of fashion almost to the extreme. I was once the short-term interim at a church that wouldn’t allow a prayer of confession even on communion Sundays because the idea of sin made them uncomfortable. Sin, especially our own, should make us uncomfortable. Sin by definition is that which separates us from, or breaks relationship with, God, ourselves, or others. Forgiveness should alleviate the discomfort sin creates. If we don’t acknowledge our sins, how on earth can we accept anyone’s forgiveness, including God’s?

The readings from 1 Kings, 2 Samuel, and Luke all address people in power who succumb to greed in one way or another, commit some serious sins, and face forgiveness or not. These texts can easily inform many contemporary contexts. The obvious invitation is to examine our own lives and see where power, sin, and forgiveness interact. On another level, asking similar questions of a congregation could be fruitful. And I can’t help but think about our national identity and the sins we commit as a powerful nation (not that I believe or think or want this to be a Christian country).

When I read about Jezebel getting Naboth killed so Ahab can have his vineyard, I’m amazed at the brazen abuse of power. Neither Jezebel nor Ahab saw anything wrong in doing whatever was necessary to get what they wanted. It didn’t matter to them that an innocent man was killed. Even when Elijah pointed out the wrong doing, Ahab was unphased. The questions that come to my mind are these: When have I used the power I have to get what I wanted without regard for another’s needs? Did I defend these actions or did I ask for forgiveness? Has the church (the congregation I attend or the denomination I am part of) acted without regard to its neighbor’s needs at any point? Does the church acknowledge this sin and seek forgiveness? When has this nation taken from others without regard to consequences for others? Do we stand unphased or do we seek forgiveness?

Like Jezebel, King David used his power to get Bathsheba for himself. He acted on impulse and desire. As a result Uriah the Hittite was murdered. When Nathan pointed out David’s sin, David recognized that he had indeed “sinned against the Lord.” God offered forgiveness, but the consequences for David’s sins were not wiped out. Here my questions are: When I have acted on impulse and caused harm to another, have I been able to acknowledge my sin and accept forgiveness? Do I view painful consequences as punishment for sin or am I able to face the situation knowing that God has forgiven me? When has the church acted on impulse and caused harm to others? Has the community explored forgiveness even as painful consequences may be felt for years? As a nation, when have we taken what belongs to another and made it our own? Have we acknowledged this sin? What role does forgiveness play as we deal with the long-term consequences?

After these two stories of power and sin, there is the third. Luke’s version of the woman who anointed Jesus comes at this theme from the opposite direction. The woman is clearly a SINNER and she offers Jesus what others did not. Simon the Pharisee offered Jesus nothing in the way of typical hospitality even though Simon would have believed himself to be a much better person than the woman. She recognized that Jesus deserved all she had to offer. She brought her whole self – pricy jar and costly tears – and she showed Jesus hospitality like no other. And no one understood. For this passage my questions are: When have I believed myself to be better than another and, thereby, missed offering Jesus radical hospitality? As a church, whom have we failed to welcome? How have we withheld hospitality from others and from Jesus? As a nation, whom do we judge unworthy? Is there a place for forgiveness and hospitality in our national identity?

All these texts are rich and relevant. But I will end my reflections here since this is not a sermon and is only meant to stimulate thoughts and further reflection on the relevance of lectionary texts for the modern reader. So may it be.

For you are not a God
who delights in wickedness;
evil will not sojourn with you.

The boastful will not stand before your eyes;
you hate all evildoers.

You destroy those who speak lies;
God abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful.

But I, through the abundance of your steadfast love,
will enter your house,
I will bow down towards your holy temple
in awe of you.

Lead me, O God, in your righteousness
because of my enemies;
make your way straight before me.

RCL – Fourth Sunday After Pentecost – June 16, 2013

1 Kings 21:1-10, (11-14), 15-21a with Psalm 5:1-8 or
2 Samuel 11:26-12:10,13-15 with Psalm 32
Galatians 2:15-21
Luke 7:36-8:3

photo from pdphoto.org

Faith Questions

by Rachael Keefe

The benefit of six weeks of sick leave when recovering from surgery is that there is plenty of time to think. I have had many, many thoughts over the last several weeks and have kept most of them to myself. But this week’s scriptures deserve much time, attention, and prayer. Elijah was the last prophet … Read More

Make Them Stop

by Rachael Keefe

“I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.” For some reason this verse from this week’s gospel reading won’t let me go. It’s such a startling statement. Christ’s return to Jerusalem was so essential to all the world that the stones would cry out if the people did not. My question … Read More

A Prodigal’s Bidding Prayer

by Rachael Keefe

Holy God, you came to reconcile the world and bring new life. No one is excluded from your embrace. Open the arms of your church as wide as the arms of your love. Enliven this body of Christ that we may rejoice when any of your sons and daughters come seeking refuge and healing in our midst. Let us not cling to our traditions so firmly that we fail to be ambassadors of Christ seeking your way and listening for your counsel. Reconciling God, show us the way to new life that we may be alive again.

God of creation, your love for the world is something we so easily forget. More often than not we believe a stranger to be an enemy and dismiss those who suffer. Yet, you would have us throw our arms around the lost ones without judgment. There are places in our world –near and far– that know only violence and despair. Your heartbreaks every time a life is lost in violence or fear or ignorance. God of safe places, widen our reach, open our hearts. Reveal the way of peace to all your people, especially those in positions of leadership and power.

Surprising God, you would have us welcome one another with joy and celebration. But we live in a country divided on nearly all things. Much harm is done in your name, even here. We are a nation of great wealth, power, and resources and still we fail to care for those who cannot care for themselves. Help us to see beyond budgets and party lines to the face of real people who seek hope, safety, and life. It does not matter how much or how hard we have labored or for how long, if any of your children are hungry or hurting. God of abundant life, lead us in ways of justice and equity for all those who live in this great nation.

God of mercy and grace, you offer safety in times of adversity. Remind us that you offer yourself to all people, even those who call you by another name. Our communities are changing and we grow fearful. We tend to forget that all that you have is ours. We are free to share the abundance of your grace because there will always be more than enough. Show us the path to welcome our neighbors from foreign places. May our churches be true sanctuaries for the refugee, the immigrant, the mentally ill, the developmentally disabled, the elderly, the homeless, and all those who are vulnerable and feel unloved and unwanted. Welcoming God, open our hearts to the joy of knowing you that we may kill our fatted calves and rejoice with those who find new life in you.

Healing God, we long to rejoice with you whenever a son or daughter comes alive again. Too often we are overwhelmed by all the broken places in our world, our country, our community, and our lives. We ask that you surround with deliverance all those who are lost to addiction, to illness, to poverty, to hunger, to injustice of any kind. Empower us to stand with those who cannot stand on their own. Make us mindful of the needs of all your children. We pray for the countries, the towns, and all people who are in need of healing and reconciliation. Rejoicing God, unite us with our brothers and sisters around the world. Let us all work with your hands to mend our ways and bring healing to all.

God of abundance and life, we thank you for all that we are and all that we have. We know the benefits of life in you. Too often we are distracted from the joy of living in you. But in this moment, we are grateful. You have called us to be your body in this place and we celebrate our call to be the church today. We will continue on this journey through the wilderness, removing those things that separate us from your love. We know that wherever we go or wherever we have been, you welcome us with open arms. We rejoice in your steadfast love and seek to honor you with all that we do. Gracious God, words fail to express the wonders of your love for us. Keep us firmly in your embrace while reminding us that there is room enough for all your children.

In the name of Christ who reconciles the world to you, we pray. Amen.

RCL – Year C – Fourth Sunday in Lent

Joshua 5:9-12
Psalm 32
2 Corinthians 5:16-21
Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

(image from pdphoto.org)

Promise, Prophecy, and Prayer

by Rachael Keefe

As I drove to work yesterday morning I found myself singing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.” I sang it all the way through before I realized what I was doing. It filled me with a strange nostalgia. The next thing I knew I was thinking of other songs and hymns that mark different eras in my life. “Beautiful Savior” was the first hymn I learned in youth choir. “Crown Him with Many Crowns” was a favorite in high school. In college it was Petra’s “For Annie.” In seminary there were many, but “Here I am Lord” was at the top. Later, “It is Well with My Soul” topped my list of favorites. These days, I often find myself humming “Grace Like Rain.” My ride to work went by very quickly.

Today it occurred to me that in a generation or two these songs that have such meaning and power for me, will fade away. Of course, I experienced a twinge of sadness that this music doesn’t connect with younger generations so much today. But then excitement and wonder pushed any sadness away. What songs will the church of tomorrow sing? Will another generation be able to create a soundtrack of hymns and praise songs for their lives?

And strangely, I kept thinking about Abram. In one conversation with God about the promise of children, he entered into a covenant that changed nearly everything about his life. Did he know that he stood on the brink of something totally new? Did he wonder how God would speak to future generations? Did it occur to him that his sons and grandsons would know God in ways he couldn’t imagine or foresee? Did he look to the future with hope and expectation? God made him a promise that changed everything.

We don’t have these kinds of conversations with God today. Partly because the world is different. Partly because Jesus took away the need for such promises. Jesus is the conversation we have with God. Love. Grace. Forgiveness. Salvation. Words spoken right out loud.

But things change. We forget. We get lost. Lent is a good season for remembering. It is the perfect time to be still and listen for God. How is God speaking today? Where is God speaking today? Who is listening and what are they hearing?

Things can change and still be okay. God can lead us anywhere. No matter what changes, as long as we are in conversation with God, it is okay. We are not alone, lost in the wilderness and left to our own devises. Everything may feel and look different, and yet people still find a way to praise God, come together to worship. It has been happening for thousands of years. We don’t worship the way Abram worshiped. We don’t worship the way the disciples worshiped. People that come after us aren’t going to resemble our practices either. That’s not important. What matters is the relationship we have with God, one another, ourselves. THAT is what gets lost in the cacophony of sound around us. And when the worship itself, or the music itself, becomes more important than the relationship, we are not listening anymore.

I don’t know about you, but I think there is prophecy and promise still to come.

I believe that I shall see the goodness of God in the land of the living. Wait for God; be strong, let your heart take courage; wait for God!

RCL – Year C – Second Sunday of Lent – February 24, 2013

Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18
Psalm 27
Philippians 3:17–4:1
Luke 13:31-35

Signal-to-Noise Ratio

A Bidding Prayer for Neighbors

Naaman, Paul, and Jesus. Who Knew?

Some Unwanted Truth

Do You Know Where God is?

Not Exactly Original, But Sin Nonetheless

Faith Questions

Make Them Stop

A Prodigal’s Bidding Prayer

Promise, Prophecy, and Prayer

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