11:1 When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples
11:2 and said to them, "Go into the village ahead of you, and
immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has
never been ridden; untie it and bring it.
11:3 If anyone says to you, 'Why are you doing this?' just say this,
'The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.'"
11:4 They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it,
11:5 some of the bystanders said to them, "What are you doing, untying the colt?"
11:6 They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it.
11:7 Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it.
11:8 Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields.
11:9 Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,
"Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
11:10 Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!"
11:11 Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he
had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to
Bethany with the twelve.
Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts
Sunday, March 29, 2015
Monday, March 23, 2015
Friday, March 13, 2015
Questions for today...
The cycle of death and resurrection is central to the Christian faith.
In what ways is that cycle present in my life right now?
Where might there be necessary change, suffering, death and decay, and how might new life emerge from those experiences?
In what ways is that cycle present in my life right now?
Where might there be necessary change, suffering, death and decay, and how might new life emerge from those experiences?
Sunday, March 8, 2015
Affirmation
You call us to service;
to be your eyes and ears,
hands and voice in this your world.
To open our eyes not only
to the beauty and love which you create,
but the injustice,
hate and suffering that mankind generates.
To open our ears not only
to the chattering of this coming week,
but the searching,
fears and questioning of all whom we shall meet.
To open our hands not only
to those we choose our lives to share,
but in welcome,
love and fellowship to all who you draw near.
To open our mouths not only
to speak platitudes and simple words,
but the truths you lay upon our hearts.
Your Word for this your world.
You call us to service,
to be your eyes and ears,
hands and voice in this your world
to be your eyes and ears,
hands and voice in this your world.
To open our eyes not only
to the beauty and love which you create,
but the injustice,
hate and suffering that mankind generates.
To open our ears not only
to the chattering of this coming week,
but the searching,
fears and questioning of all whom we shall meet.
To open our hands not only
to those we choose our lives to share,
but in welcome,
love and fellowship to all who you draw near.
To open our mouths not only
to speak platitudes and simple words,
but the truths you lay upon our hearts.
Your Word for this your world.
You call us to service,
to be your eyes and ears,
hands and voice in this your world
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Want to Follow Christ? Count the Cost
By Elizabeth Hagan (click here for original post)
A sermon from: Mark 1:40-45
There are a lot of popular beliefs about what it means to follow Jesus.
Some would say that following Jesus means joining a religion.
Some would say that following Jesus is accepting his baptism or remembering his death through communion.
Some would say that following Jesus is about trying to live out his teachings of love and forgiveness.
All of these answers have value. But this morning I want to dig a little deeper. What does it really mean?
If we say we are following Jesus or we want to follow Jesus him more, then, will there be any cost?
When I was a young girl, I only dreamed of becoming one thing when I grew older: a teacher.
According to my mother, I’d line my dolls up as a preschooler and explain to them the differences in colors.
By 8 or 9, I frequently gathered all the books in our house and organized a classroom library in my room complete with a check out station with a due date stamp.
And, then by 15, I’d assembled bin after bin the attic of teaching supplies. I wanted to be more than equipped when my first job came!
So in 2002, when I graduated with my education degree and a teaching certification to go along with it, an assignment with my name on it came! But as most college graduates soon learn, you don’t exactly get the first job you apply for right away.
My 5th grade class sat in the middle of the city of Birmingham, AL. A place where segregation still felt as thick in the air as it did in the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s. 95% of my students were on free and reduced lunch and I got no more than chalk for the chalkboard by way of supplies. You needed to be BFFs with the Vice Principal to use the one copier in the building.
So, needless to say, South Hampton Elementary was a rude awakening to this fantasy life I’d constructed in my head. And even though I arrived prepared with my books, flash cards and brought my own paper from home, teaching was much tougher than I thought.
The cost of living into what I thought was my dream job felt like endless stacks of papers to grade, lesson plans to write constantly and loosing my voice from talking to loudly to the children more days than I could count. I got little to no support from the administration. So, when the calling came on strong to begin seminary the next year, I shed no tears in packing up those bins and giving all those supplies to someone else!
Though a wonderful career for some people (and I know that was many of you at one time or another), elementary school teaching I decided had a cost that I could not take on.
Our gospel lesson for this morning provides us an opportunity to see Jesus on a similar journey: a journey where the cost of his path would be counted.
Ok, so remember last week, things were going strong for Jesus. He was healing and casting out demons at a record pace. Then, he takes a break, going to a quiet place to find strength. Then, he charges on forward accepting the fact so many more people needed to experience the love and healing power of God.
And the next significant person we are told Jesus meets is a leper.
It’s good to remember that being a leper in the time of Jesus was the great untouchable skin decease. Lepers weren’t allowed in the city walls. In fact, Old Testament cleanliness laws in fact dictate who can and can’t be around these folks within religious life. Lepers didn’t attend religious services in the temples. They weren’t included in any town events.
So, beyond being physically painful, a leprosy diagnoses came with emotional and spiritual pain.
And this is the kind of person we are told in verse 40 comes to Jesus.
He comes begging Jesus and kneels before him saying, “If you choose, you can make me clean.”
This man is asking not only for physical healing from his skin aliment but also for healing from his perpetual state of isolation.
And it’s an interesting choice of words, “If you choose.”
The man shows his faith by believing that Jesus can give him what he most wants, while also knowing that it might not be want Jesus will actually do.
And scripture tells us that “Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him” (HUGE deal by the way!) and said to him, “I do choose. Be made clean!”
Jesus then instructs the man to not tell anyone about what happened to him except the priest. For the priest’s blessing would return him to communal life and worship—so his spirit may be healed as well.
Yet, if we stop for a moment, I think what is most interesting about the healing exchange between Jesus and the man with leprosy is the parallel language.
The man says, Jesus “if you choose, heal me.” And Jesus replies back, “I do choose.”
What’s all the choice business really about?
The deeper story is this: as the man is healed from leprosy, his whole posture in the world will soon change. He could move around freely in a crowd. He could invite family members over for dinner on an average Sunday night. He could basically do whatever he wants again, something his disease has not given him the privilege of in most likely many years!
While the man gets exactly what he wants, his healing comes with a cost. His life will be lived in a different world.
And similarly for Jesus, as he heals this man, according to Mark’s fast paced account of Jesus’ life, this will be THE moment when Jesus’ place of being in the world will change too.He won’t be able to move freely in a crowd. He won’t be able to invite family over for dinner on an average Sunday night. He won’t be able to do whatever he wants anymore.
This is especially true because the healed man does not keep his mouth shut as Jesus asks him to do.
For verse 45 tells us that “But [the man] went out and began to proclaim [the healing] freely, and to spread the word, so that Jesus could no longer go into a town openly.”
For as Jesus heals, it costs him this: he donates his freedom to the other man.
And in all of this, it’s a moment for Jesus to set himself one step closer the cross. A cross that would in only a matter of time ask Jesus to give up everything. Absolutely everything so that you and I would know what true love is all about.
For though, we often think of Jesus’ big moment of sacrifice as the occasion that we celebrate on Good Friday—what a testimony this account is!
First of all, we can’t expect that following Jesus will come without cost.
And second, we can’t follow Jesus and not make small, everyday choices that lead our lives toward the cross too, just like him.
But this is NOT what cultural Christianity teaches us. In my experience:
We are taught that following Jesus is about feeling good no matter what if we have a Bible verse to hang on a problem.
We are taught that following Jesus is about the right things coming easily.
We are taught that following Jesus is about having hope that we know where we’ll go when we die.
And while some of these sentiments may be a part of the story, they aren’t the story.
One of the most prominent theologians to come out of the 20th century was a German by the name of Dietrich Bonheoffer.
One of his classic texts, still widely read today is called, The Cost of Discipleship. Within it, he challenges readers with the difference between “cheap grace” and “costly grace.”
“Cheap grace,” Bonheoffer wrote, “is the grace we bestow on ourselves…grace without discipleship…. Costly grace is the gospel, which must be sought again and again…. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life.”
Bonheoffer practiced what he preached about the cost of following Jesus because at several junctures he made choices that did not come without a price.
As the Second World War began, Bonheoffer who had studied theology in the US had a choice. He could take a teaching job stateside at an Ivy League School. Or he could go home. He chose to return to Europe, to his own country and be and teach the people who needed what he’d learned the most.
When congregating for religious study and practice was banded in Germany, Bonheoffer made the choice to lead an underground seminary where pastors and leaders could still be trained.
When the reports of the capture, torture and death of millions of Jews at the hands of Hitler grew more pronounced, Bonheoffer made the choice to assist with an assassination plot against Hitler.
This choice eventually cost him his life.
I’m not trying to be a downer. Or even say that all or any of us will be asked to die for our faith in Christ.
But what I am saying is this: it’s easy to believe in a cost-less discipleship way. It’s easy to believe in cheap grace. Or grace that cost us nothing.
But the stories of scriptures and stories of faithful ones throughout the ages teach us that these sentiments aren’t true.
And the word I found coming to my tongue was surrender.
I realized that in 2015, what God needed more from Elizabeth Hagan was letting go of control. Not being obsessed so much with what I wanted the outcome of my life to be, but whatever God had in mine.
My friend shared with me more about her word and then I shocked us both when I said: “You know what, this is what I think I’ve come to know about Jesus, the longer I follow him. If it aint hard, it aint Jesus.”
And I really believe such is true. There’s so much my friends that you can I can do perfectly good and well on our own. There are lots of good things that you and I can achieve seemingly without divine intervention.
But if we really want to follow Jesus, then the cost is going to be surrender.
It’s going to be loss
.
It’s going to be costly.
Jesus healed the man with leprosy. And the cost was: he never again got away from the spotlight and cameras and people in his face.
The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces.
“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. . . “
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”
Does the cost of discipleship hurt? Sometimes. But when you are following Jesus really following Jesus you don’t mind being so hurt. The path of the cross leads you to your truest home and into the arms of a Savior who says no matter what you go through love will follow you and life will be ok.
AMEN
A sermon from: Mark 1:40-45
There are a lot of popular beliefs about what it means to follow Jesus.
Some would say that following Jesus means joining a religion.
Some would say that following Jesus is accepting his baptism or remembering his death through communion.
Some would say that following Jesus is about trying to live out his teachings of love and forgiveness.
All of these answers have value. But this morning I want to dig a little deeper. What does it really mean?
If we say we are following Jesus or we want to follow Jesus him more, then, will there be any cost?
When I was a young girl, I only dreamed of becoming one thing when I grew older: a teacher.
According to my mother, I’d line my dolls up as a preschooler and explain to them the differences in colors.
By 8 or 9, I frequently gathered all the books in our house and organized a classroom library in my room complete with a check out station with a due date stamp.
And, then by 15, I’d assembled bin after bin the attic of teaching supplies. I wanted to be more than equipped when my first job came!
So in 2002, when I graduated with my education degree and a teaching certification to go along with it, an assignment with my name on it came! But as most college graduates soon learn, you don’t exactly get the first job you apply for right away.
My 5th grade class sat in the middle of the city of Birmingham, AL. A place where segregation still felt as thick in the air as it did in the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s. 95% of my students were on free and reduced lunch and I got no more than chalk for the chalkboard by way of supplies. You needed to be BFFs with the Vice Principal to use the one copier in the building.
So, needless to say, South Hampton Elementary was a rude awakening to this fantasy life I’d constructed in my head. And even though I arrived prepared with my books, flash cards and brought my own paper from home, teaching was much tougher than I thought.
The cost of living into what I thought was my dream job felt like endless stacks of papers to grade, lesson plans to write constantly and loosing my voice from talking to loudly to the children more days than I could count. I got little to no support from the administration. So, when the calling came on strong to begin seminary the next year, I shed no tears in packing up those bins and giving all those supplies to someone else!
Though a wonderful career for some people (and I know that was many of you at one time or another), elementary school teaching I decided had a cost that I could not take on.
Our gospel lesson for this morning provides us an opportunity to see Jesus on a similar journey: a journey where the cost of his path would be counted.
Ok, so remember last week, things were going strong for Jesus. He was healing and casting out demons at a record pace. Then, he takes a break, going to a quiet place to find strength. Then, he charges on forward accepting the fact so many more people needed to experience the love and healing power of God.
And the next significant person we are told Jesus meets is a leper.
It’s good to remember that being a leper in the time of Jesus was the great untouchable skin decease. Lepers weren’t allowed in the city walls. In fact, Old Testament cleanliness laws in fact dictate who can and can’t be around these folks within religious life. Lepers didn’t attend religious services in the temples. They weren’t included in any town events.
So, beyond being physically painful, a leprosy diagnoses came with emotional and spiritual pain.
And this is the kind of person we are told in verse 40 comes to Jesus.
He comes begging Jesus and kneels before him saying, “If you choose, you can make me clean.”
This man is asking not only for physical healing from his skin aliment but also for healing from his perpetual state of isolation.
And it’s an interesting choice of words, “If you choose.”
The man shows his faith by believing that Jesus can give him what he most wants, while also knowing that it might not be want Jesus will actually do.
And scripture tells us that “Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him” (HUGE deal by the way!) and said to him, “I do choose. Be made clean!”
Jesus then instructs the man to not tell anyone about what happened to him except the priest. For the priest’s blessing would return him to communal life and worship—so his spirit may be healed as well.
Yet, if we stop for a moment, I think what is most interesting about the healing exchange between Jesus and the man with leprosy is the parallel language.
The man says, Jesus “if you choose, heal me.” And Jesus replies back, “I do choose.”
What’s all the choice business really about?
The deeper story is this: as the man is healed from leprosy, his whole posture in the world will soon change. He could move around freely in a crowd. He could invite family members over for dinner on an average Sunday night. He could basically do whatever he wants again, something his disease has not given him the privilege of in most likely many years!
While the man gets exactly what he wants, his healing comes with a cost. His life will be lived in a different world.
And similarly for Jesus, as he heals this man, according to Mark’s fast paced account of Jesus’ life, this will be THE moment when Jesus’ place of being in the world will change too.He won’t be able to move freely in a crowd. He won’t be able to invite family over for dinner on an average Sunday night. He won’t be able to do whatever he wants anymore.
This is especially true because the healed man does not keep his mouth shut as Jesus asks him to do.
For verse 45 tells us that “But [the man] went out and began to proclaim [the healing] freely, and to spread the word, so that Jesus could no longer go into a town openly.”
For as Jesus heals, it costs him this: he donates his freedom to the other man.
And in all of this, it’s a moment for Jesus to set himself one step closer the cross. A cross that would in only a matter of time ask Jesus to give up everything. Absolutely everything so that you and I would know what true love is all about.
For though, we often think of Jesus’ big moment of sacrifice as the occasion that we celebrate on Good Friday—what a testimony this account is!
First of all, we can’t expect that following Jesus will come without cost.
And second, we can’t follow Jesus and not make small, everyday choices that lead our lives toward the cross too, just like him.
But this is NOT what cultural Christianity teaches us. In my experience:
We are taught that following Jesus is about feeling good no matter what if we have a Bible verse to hang on a problem.
We are taught that following Jesus is about the right things coming easily.
We are taught that following Jesus is about having hope that we know where we’ll go when we die.
And while some of these sentiments may be a part of the story, they aren’t the story.
One of the most prominent theologians to come out of the 20th century was a German by the name of Dietrich Bonheoffer.
One of his classic texts, still widely read today is called, The Cost of Discipleship. Within it, he challenges readers with the difference between “cheap grace” and “costly grace.”
“Cheap grace,” Bonheoffer wrote, “is the grace we bestow on ourselves…grace without discipleship…. Costly grace is the gospel, which must be sought again and again…. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life.”
Bonheoffer practiced what he preached about the cost of following Jesus because at several junctures he made choices that did not come without a price.
As the Second World War began, Bonheoffer who had studied theology in the US had a choice. He could take a teaching job stateside at an Ivy League School. Or he could go home. He chose to return to Europe, to his own country and be and teach the people who needed what he’d learned the most.
When congregating for religious study and practice was banded in Germany, Bonheoffer made the choice to lead an underground seminary where pastors and leaders could still be trained.
When the reports of the capture, torture and death of millions of Jews at the hands of Hitler grew more pronounced, Bonheoffer made the choice to assist with an assassination plot against Hitler.
This choice eventually cost him his life.
I’m not trying to be a downer. Or even say that all or any of us will be asked to die for our faith in Christ.
But what I am saying is this: it’s easy to believe in a cost-less discipleship way. It’s easy to believe in cheap grace. Or grace that cost us nothing.
But the stories of scriptures and stories of faithful ones throughout the ages teach us that these sentiments aren’t true.
The way of Jesus WILL cost us something. Or a lot of something as we journey our life through.
I have a dear friend in whom I talk about things of faith all the time. Several weeks ago, both of us shared our thoughts for the New Year. What were we hoping for in 2015?And the word I found coming to my tongue was surrender.
I realized that in 2015, what God needed more from Elizabeth Hagan was letting go of control. Not being obsessed so much with what I wanted the outcome of my life to be, but whatever God had in mine.
My friend shared with me more about her word and then I shocked us both when I said: “You know what, this is what I think I’ve come to know about Jesus, the longer I follow him. If it aint hard, it aint Jesus.”
And I really believe such is true. There’s so much my friends that you can I can do perfectly good and well on our own. There are lots of good things that you and I can achieve seemingly without divine intervention.
But if we really want to follow Jesus, then the cost is going to be surrender.
It’s going to be loss
.
It’s going to be costly.
Jesus healed the man with leprosy. And the cost was: he never again got away from the spotlight and cameras and people in his face.
And who are we to think we are that it will be any different for us?
My favorite description of such real living comes from a children’s book called the Velveteen Rabbit.The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces.
“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. . . “
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”
Does the cost of discipleship hurt? Sometimes. But when you are following Jesus really following Jesus you don’t mind being so hurt. The path of the cross leads you to your truest home and into the arms of a Savior who says no matter what you go through love will follow you and life will be ok.
AMEN
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
Devotional
By: Kathryn Cartledge(click here for original post)
"
I lift up my eyes to the hills - from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth."
-- Psalm 121:1-8
-- Psalm 121:1-8
This
Psalm was written to be sung and clearly it speaks of God always
watching over us. God is awake and neither slumbers or sleeps!
The
last two verses are a powerful benediction: "The Lord will keep you
from all evil; he will keep your life. The Lord will keep your going
out and your coming in from this time on and forever".
Sitting
in my living room I am literally surrounded by mountains. Most every
day when I see them, I see beauty. I see the oldest mountains in the
country and I am filled with awe and gratitude. I seek their wisdom and
energy and I feel secure in their embrace.
Other
days though - I must admit that I lift up my eyes to the hills and I
can only see what I fear. I see dark and ominous things. My eyelids
are heavy with a sense of insecurity and need. My eyes are held down
with self doubt and helplessness. On these days, it is obvious that I
have rolled down the hill into a shallow place.
From where will my help come?
I
wish, on these days, that I could stand right up, brush myself off and
sing aloud, "My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth".
Just
so you know it's not because I can't sing that I don't do this....it is
because I forget all about God and look to every one and to everything
else.
Prayer:
God, I am so glad that you are
awake! You are watching as I stumble and roll around in my own mental
mess. I pray that I use my mind and heart to remember all of the ways
that you are present in my life and that I can hold onto the assurance
that you have my back, coming and going, forever, Amen.
Monday, March 2, 2015
Sunday, March 1, 2015
New Testament Lectionary Passage for Lent Second Week
Mark 8:31-38
Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.
He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him.
But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, "Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things."
He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.
For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.
For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life?
Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?
Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels."
Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.
He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him.
But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, "Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things."
He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.
For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.
For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life?
Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?
Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels."
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Monday, February 23, 2015
Frederick Buechner's Questions for Lent
IN MANY CULTURES there is an ancient custom of giving a tenth of
each year's income to some holy use. For Christians, to observe the
forty days of Lent is to do the same thing with roughly a tenth of each
year's days. After being baptized by John in the river Jordan, Jesus
went off alone into the wilderness where he spent forty days asking
himself the question what it meant to be Jesus. During Lent, Christians
are supposed to ask one way or another what it means to be themselves.
If you had to bet everything you have on whether there is a God or
whether there isn't, which side would get your money and why?
When you look at your face in the mirror, what do you see in it that you most like and what do you see in it that you most deplore?
If you had only one last message to leave to the handful of people who are most important to you, what would it be in twenty-five words or less?
Of all the things you have done in your life, which is the one you would most like to undo? Which is the one that makes you happiest to remember?
Is there any person in the world, or any cause, that, if circumstances called for it, you would be willing to die for?
If this were the last day of your life, what would you do with it?
To hear yourself try to answer questions like these is to begin to hear something not only of who you are but of both what you are becoming and what you are failing to become. It can be a pretty depressing business all in all, but if sack-cloth and ashes are at the start of it, something like Easter may be at the end.
- Originally published in Wishful Thinking and later in Beyond Words
When you look at your face in the mirror, what do you see in it that you most like and what do you see in it that you most deplore?
If you had only one last message to leave to the handful of people who are most important to you, what would it be in twenty-five words or less?
Of all the things you have done in your life, which is the one you would most like to undo? Which is the one that makes you happiest to remember?
Is there any person in the world, or any cause, that, if circumstances called for it, you would be willing to die for?
If this were the last day of your life, what would you do with it?
To hear yourself try to answer questions like these is to begin to hear something not only of who you are but of both what you are becoming and what you are failing to become. It can be a pretty depressing business all in all, but if sack-cloth and ashes are at the start of it, something like Easter may be at the end.
- Originally published in Wishful Thinking and later in Beyond Words
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Old Testament Reading: Lent 1
Genesis 9:8-17
Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him,
"As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you,
and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark. I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth."
God said, "This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth."
God said to Noah, "This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth."
Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him,
"As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you,
and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark. I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth."
God said, "This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth."
God said to Noah, "This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth."
Friday, February 20, 2015
Did you not know what the Holy One can do with dust?
by Jan Richardson (click here for original post)
It is a strange anointing, this
cross that comes to mark us as Lent begins. Ashes, dust, dirt: the stuff we
walk upon, that we sweep away, that we work to get rid of, now comes to remind
us who we are, where we are from, where we are bound.
How terrible. And how marvelous,
that God should feel so tender toward the dust as to create us from it, and
return us to it, breathing through us all the while. Even after releasing us
from the blessed dust at the last, God continues to breathe us toward whatever
it is we are becoming.
Ash Wednesday hits close to home
once again. My husband’s ashes remain in the keeping of my brother, waiting in
a beautiful wooden box that Scott has built for them. This spring we will bury
the ashes on the family farm where Gary and I were married not so long ago. And
we will breathe, and we will bless the earth from which we have come, and we
will give thanks for the astonishing gift that passed too briefly among us but
whose love, tenacious as ever, goes with us still.
This is a blessing I wrote for Ash
Wednesday a couple of years ago....
Blessing the Dust
A Blessing for Ash Wednesday
A Blessing for Ash Wednesday
All those days
you felt like dust,
like dirt,
as if all you had to do
was turn your face
toward the wind
and be scattered
to the four corners
you felt like dust,
like dirt,
as if all you had to do
was turn your face
toward the wind
and be scattered
to the four corners
or swept away
by the smallest breath
as insubstantial—
by the smallest breath
as insubstantial—
Did you not know
what the Holy One
can do with dust?
what the Holy One
can do with dust?
This is the day
we freely say
we are scorched.
we freely say
we are scorched.
This is the hour
we are marked
by what has made it
through the burning.
we are marked
by what has made it
through the burning.
This is the moment
we ask for the blessing
that lives within
the ancient ashes,
that makes its home
inside the soil of
this sacred earth.
we ask for the blessing
that lives within
the ancient ashes,
that makes its home
inside the soil of
this sacred earth.
So let us be marked
not for sorrow.
And let us be marked
not for shame.
Let us be marked
not for false humility
or for thinking
we are less
than we are
not for sorrow.
And let us be marked
not for shame.
Let us be marked
not for false humility
or for thinking
we are less
than we are
but for claiming
what God can do
within the dust,
within the dirt,
within the stuff
of which the world
is made,
and the stars that blaze
in our bones,
and the galaxies that spiral
inside the smudge
we bear.
what God can do
within the dust,
within the dirt,
within the stuff
of which the world
is made,
and the stars that blaze
in our bones,
and the galaxies that spiral
inside the smudge
we bear.
–Jan Richardson
It
is a strange anointing, this cross that comes to mark us as Lent
begins. Ashes, dust, dirt: the stuff we walk upon, that we sweep away,
that we work to get rid of, now comes to remind us who we are, where we
are from, where we are bound.
How terrible. And how marvelous, that God should feel so tender toward the dust as to create us from it, and return us to it, breathing through us all the while. Even after releasing us from the blessed dust at the last, God continues to breathe us toward whatever it is we are becoming.
Ash Wednesday hits close to home once again. My husband’s ashes remain in the keeping of my brother, waiting in a beautiful wooden box that Scott has built for them. This spring we will bury the ashes on the family farm where Gary and I were married not so long ago. And we will breathe, and we will bless the earth from which we have come, and we will give thanks for the astonishing gift that passed too briefly among us but whose love, tenacious as ever, goes with us still.
This is a blessing I wrote for Ash Wednesday a couple of years ago and want to share with you as the day approaches again. I would also love to share the coming season with you on the new online retreat I’m offering for Lent. If you haven’t already signed up for the Beloved Lenten Retreat, you’ll find info about it below.
- See more at: http://paintedprayerbook.com/2015/02/13/ash-wednesday-the-terrible-marvelous-dust/#sthash.dKkYMFXS.dpuf
How terrible. And how marvelous, that God should feel so tender toward the dust as to create us from it, and return us to it, breathing through us all the while. Even after releasing us from the blessed dust at the last, God continues to breathe us toward whatever it is we are becoming.
Ash Wednesday hits close to home once again. My husband’s ashes remain in the keeping of my brother, waiting in a beautiful wooden box that Scott has built for them. This spring we will bury the ashes on the family farm where Gary and I were married not so long ago. And we will breathe, and we will bless the earth from which we have come, and we will give thanks for the astonishing gift that passed too briefly among us but whose love, tenacious as ever, goes with us still.
This is a blessing I wrote for Ash Wednesday a couple of years ago and want to share with you as the day approaches again. I would also love to share the coming season with you on the new online retreat I’m offering for Lent. If you haven’t already signed up for the Beloved Lenten Retreat, you’ll find info about it below.
- See more at: http://paintedprayerbook.com/2015/02/13/ash-wednesday-the-terrible-marvelous-dust/#sthash.dKkYMFXS.dpuf
It
is a strange anointing, this cross that comes to mark us as Lent
begins. Ashes, dust, dirt: the stuff we walk upon, that we sweep away,
that we work to get rid of, now comes to remind us who we are, where we
are from, where we are bound.
How terrible. And how marvelous, that God should feel so tender toward the dust as to create us from it, and return us to it, breathing through us all the while. Even after releasing us from the blessed dust at the last, God continues to breathe us toward whatever it is we are becoming.
Ash Wednesday hits close to home once again. My husband’s ashes remain in the keeping of my brother, waiting in a beautiful wooden box that Scott has built for them. This spring we will bury the ashes on the family farm where Gary and I were married not so long ago. And we will breathe, and we will bless the earth from which we have come, and we will give thanks for the astonishing gift that passed too briefly among us but whose love, tenacious as ever, goes with us still.
This is a blessing I wrote for Ash Wednesday a couple of years ago and want to share with you as the day approaches again. I would also love to share the coming season with you on the new online retreat I’m offering for Lent. If you haven’t already signed up for the Beloved Lenten Retreat, you’ll find info about it below.
Blessing the Dust
A Blessing for Ash Wednesday
All those days
you felt like dust,
like dirt,
as if all you had to do
was turn your face
toward the wind
and be scattered
to the four corners
or swept away
by the smallest breath
as insubstantial—
Did you not know
what the Holy One
can do with dust?
This is the day
we freely say
we are scorched.
This is the hour
we are marked
by what has made it
through the burning.
This is the moment
we ask for the blessing
that lives within
the ancient ashes,
that makes its home
inside the soil of
this sacred earth.
So let us be marked
not for sorrow.
And let us be marked
not for shame.
Let us be marked
not for false humility
or for thinking
we are less
than we are
but for claiming
what God can do
within the dust,
within the dirt,
within the stuff
of which the world
is made,
and the stars that blaze
in our bones,
and the galaxies that spiral
inside the smudge
we bear.
–Jan Richardson
- See more at: http://paintedprayerbook.com/2015/02/13/ash-wednesday-the-terrible-marvelous-dust/#sthash.dKkYMFXS.dpuf
How terrible. And how marvelous, that God should feel so tender toward the dust as to create us from it, and return us to it, breathing through us all the while. Even after releasing us from the blessed dust at the last, God continues to breathe us toward whatever it is we are becoming.
Ash Wednesday hits close to home once again. My husband’s ashes remain in the keeping of my brother, waiting in a beautiful wooden box that Scott has built for them. This spring we will bury the ashes on the family farm where Gary and I were married not so long ago. And we will breathe, and we will bless the earth from which we have come, and we will give thanks for the astonishing gift that passed too briefly among us but whose love, tenacious as ever, goes with us still.
This is a blessing I wrote for Ash Wednesday a couple of years ago and want to share with you as the day approaches again. I would also love to share the coming season with you on the new online retreat I’m offering for Lent. If you haven’t already signed up for the Beloved Lenten Retreat, you’ll find info about it below.
Blessing the Dust
A Blessing for Ash Wednesday
All those days
you felt like dust,
like dirt,
as if all you had to do
was turn your face
toward the wind
and be scattered
to the four corners
or swept away
by the smallest breath
as insubstantial—
Did you not know
what the Holy One
can do with dust?
This is the day
we freely say
we are scorched.
This is the hour
we are marked
by what has made it
through the burning.
This is the moment
we ask for the blessing
that lives within
the ancient ashes,
that makes its home
inside the soil of
this sacred earth.
So let us be marked
not for sorrow.
And let us be marked
not for shame.
Let us be marked
not for false humility
or for thinking
we are less
than we are
but for claiming
what God can do
within the dust,
within the dirt,
within the stuff
of which the world
is made,
and the stars that blaze
in our bones,
and the galaxies that spiral
inside the smudge
we bear.
–Jan Richardson
- See more at: http://paintedprayerbook.com/2015/02/13/ash-wednesday-the-terrible-marvelous-dust/#sthash.dKkYMFXS.dpuf
It
is a strange anointing, this cross that comes to mark us as Lent
begins. Ashes, dust, dirt: the stuff we walk upon, that we sweep away,
that we work to get rid of, now comes to remind us who we are, where we
are from, where we are bound.
How terrible. And how marvelous, that God should feel so tender toward the dust as to create us from it, and return us to it, breathing through us all the while. Even after releasing us from the blessed dust at the last, God continues to breathe us toward whatever it is we are becoming.
Ash Wednesday hits close to home once again. My husband’s ashes remain in the keeping of my brother, waiting in a beautiful wooden box that Scott has built for them. This spring we will bury the ashes on the family farm where Gary and I were married not so long ago. And we will breathe, and we will bless the earth from which we have come, and we will give thanks for the astonishing gift that passed too briefly among us but whose love, tenacious as ever, goes with us still.
This is a blessing I wrote for Ash Wednesday a couple of years ago and want to share with you as the day approaches again. I would also love to share the coming season with you on the new online retreat I’m offering for Lent. If you haven’t already signed up for the Beloved Lenten Retreat, you’ll find info about it below.
Blessing the Dust
A Blessing for Ash Wednesday
All those days
you felt like dust,
like dirt,
as if all you had to do
was turn your face
toward the wind
and be scattered
to the four corners
or swept away
by the smallest breath
as insubstantial—
Did you not know
what the Holy One
can do with dust?
This is the day
we freely say
we are scorched.
This is the hour
we are marked
by what has made it
through the burning.
This is the moment
we ask for the blessing
that lives within
the ancient ashes,
that makes its home
inside the soil of
this sacred earth.
So let us be marked
not for sorrow.
And let us be marked
not for shame.
Let us be marked
not for false humility
or for thinking
we are less
than we are
but for claiming
what God can do
within the dust,
within the dirt,
within the stuff
of which the world
is made,
and the stars that blaze
in our bones,
and the galaxies that spiral
inside the smudge
we bear.
–Jan Richardson
- See more at: http://paintedprayerbook.com/2015/02/13/ash-wednesday-the-terrible-marvelous-dust/#sthash.dKkYMFXS.dpuf
How terrible. And how marvelous, that God should feel so tender toward the dust as to create us from it, and return us to it, breathing through us all the while. Even after releasing us from the blessed dust at the last, God continues to breathe us toward whatever it is we are becoming.
Ash Wednesday hits close to home once again. My husband’s ashes remain in the keeping of my brother, waiting in a beautiful wooden box that Scott has built for them. This spring we will bury the ashes on the family farm where Gary and I were married not so long ago. And we will breathe, and we will bless the earth from which we have come, and we will give thanks for the astonishing gift that passed too briefly among us but whose love, tenacious as ever, goes with us still.
This is a blessing I wrote for Ash Wednesday a couple of years ago and want to share with you as the day approaches again. I would also love to share the coming season with you on the new online retreat I’m offering for Lent. If you haven’t already signed up for the Beloved Lenten Retreat, you’ll find info about it below.
Blessing the Dust
A Blessing for Ash Wednesday
All those days
you felt like dust,
like dirt,
as if all you had to do
was turn your face
toward the wind
and be scattered
to the four corners
or swept away
by the smallest breath
as insubstantial—
Did you not know
what the Holy One
can do with dust?
This is the day
we freely say
we are scorched.
This is the hour
we are marked
by what has made it
through the burning.
This is the moment
we ask for the blessing
that lives within
the ancient ashes,
that makes its home
inside the soil of
this sacred earth.
So let us be marked
not for sorrow.
And let us be marked
not for shame.
Let us be marked
not for false humility
or for thinking
we are less
than we are
but for claiming
what God can do
within the dust,
within the dirt,
within the stuff
of which the world
is made,
and the stars that blaze
in our bones,
and the galaxies that spiral
inside the smudge
we bear.
–Jan Richardson
- See more at: http://paintedprayerbook.com/2015/02/13/ash-wednesday-the-terrible-marvelous-dust/#sthash.dKkYMFXS.dpuf
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Being in the Body
By Taryn Deaton (click here for original post)
My three-year-old niece refers to being naked as “being in the body” (as in, “Aunt Taryn, why is he (shirtless man) in the body?”). Everyone in our family thinks this is hilarious and no one knows where she learned it. Secretly, we all hope she never learns the word “naked”!
As a Christian, the phrase “being in the body” (not necessarily my niece’s meaning) resonates with me for several reasons. First, because Jesus is Emmanuel or “God is with us.” God’s son came to Earth and lived among us in a human body. Jesus’ suffering and death involved physical and emotional pain. Through Jesus’ bodily rising, our bodies too are redeemed.
This phrase also resonates with me because God sees us “in the body.” I don’t mean that God sees us naked (which God probably can). What I mean is: God sees us for who we really are, warts and everything. We can hide nothing from God.
Additionally, “being in the body” is what we are truly called to be. We are called to be present, to be in the moment, to be alert and aware of what is happening around us. It is only when we are fully present that we can be attentive to the needs of those around us and be ready to hear God’s voice as to how we should respond.
Lastly, this phrase has meaning because we are all “in the body” of Christ. We are members of a community called to carry out God’s mission in the world, each created with unique gifts to be used for God’s purposes. We are diverse, but we are one body.
As ashes are imposed on Ash Wednesday, we are reminded to “remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Ash Wednesday causes us to confront the reality that we are “in the body” for a finite period of time and pushes us to consider what we are doing with that time.
God made us and put us on Earth for a reason: To be co-creators in bringing about God’s Kingdom. In Psalm 25 we read, “Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths. Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all day long.”
Like the Psalmist, we cry out to God for guidance as to how we should live. Thankfully, God responds with a baby boy, born in Bethlehem more than 2,000 years ago through whose life and death we learn to “be in the body.”
Taryn Deaton is the director of development at the Baptist Joint Committee for Religious Liberty in Washington, D.C. Taryn and her husband live in Alexandria, VA, and attend Ravensworth Baptist Church.
My three-year-old niece refers to being naked as “being in the body” (as in, “Aunt Taryn, why is he (shirtless man) in the body?”). Everyone in our family thinks this is hilarious and no one knows where she learned it. Secretly, we all hope she never learns the word “naked”!
As a Christian, the phrase “being in the body” (not necessarily my niece’s meaning) resonates with me for several reasons. First, because Jesus is Emmanuel or “God is with us.” God’s son came to Earth and lived among us in a human body. Jesus’ suffering and death involved physical and emotional pain. Through Jesus’ bodily rising, our bodies too are redeemed.
This phrase also resonates with me because God sees us “in the body.” I don’t mean that God sees us naked (which God probably can). What I mean is: God sees us for who we really are, warts and everything. We can hide nothing from God.
Additionally, “being in the body” is what we are truly called to be. We are called to be present, to be in the moment, to be alert and aware of what is happening around us. It is only when we are fully present that we can be attentive to the needs of those around us and be ready to hear God’s voice as to how we should respond.
Lastly, this phrase has meaning because we are all “in the body” of Christ. We are members of a community called to carry out God’s mission in the world, each created with unique gifts to be used for God’s purposes. We are diverse, but we are one body.
As ashes are imposed on Ash Wednesday, we are reminded to “remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Ash Wednesday causes us to confront the reality that we are “in the body” for a finite period of time and pushes us to consider what we are doing with that time.
God made us and put us on Earth for a reason: To be co-creators in bringing about God’s Kingdom. In Psalm 25 we read, “Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths. Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all day long.”
Like the Psalmist, we cry out to God for guidance as to how we should live. Thankfully, God responds with a baby boy, born in Bethlehem more than 2,000 years ago through whose life and death we learn to “be in the body.”
Taryn Deaton is the director of development at the Baptist Joint Committee for Religious Liberty in Washington, D.C. Taryn and her husband live in Alexandria, VA, and attend Ravensworth Baptist Church.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Ash Wednesday
Many churches have Ash Wednesday services, but the time varies during the day. So if you see people today with the mark of the cross on their foreheads, you will know that they are participating in this season of Lent.
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
Lent
Time flies on the liturgical calendar. Christmas lasted for 12 days, then came epiphany. But now we are ready for the new season. With the preaching about the Transfiguration the Sunday before Ash Wednesday, we are ready to move into the season of Lent.Lent is a solemn religious observance in the liturgical calendar of many Christian denominations that begins on Ash Wednesday and covers a period of approximately six weeks (40 days) before Easter Sunday. (Note: if you are counting out the days yourself, then you do not count the Sundays.)
The traditional purpose of Lent is the preparation of the believer through prayer, penance, repentance of sins, almsgiving, atonement, and self-denial. The Lenten season culminates in Holy Week as we remember the sacrifice of Jesus in his death and burial. Many people observing Lent decide to abstain from a certain food or vice, pray more often, read Lenten devotionals, or choose to add something like charitable works during Lent.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)