Sunday, Feb. 21 First Sunday in Lent: Ps. 84; 1 Pet. 3:18–22; Mark 1:9–15
We all need a reset at times. We’ve been reminded of this by the corona virus epidemic; it has changed a lot of things about the world and about the way we look at it. It is likely that even after the crisis has ended, things will look different from the way we saw them before. Where will we go to have our thoughts reset in the best way?
We could go to the presumed experts and “follow the science.” But science can only tell us what is; it is no longer science when it tells us what to do about it. We could follow the suggestions of political leaders of one party or another, as interpreted by the news media. Or, as most people end up doing at the end of the day, we could simply take our cues from what those around us are thinking and doing. It might be a case of the blind leading the blind, but at least we’d all be in it together.
But what if we took a total reset? What if we would “dwell in the house of the Lord”? What if he took us up on the mountain and showed to us a vision of glory--infinite beauty--that we never imagined to exist? Would it change what we thought was possible? Would it change our expectations, or the limits within which we have lived? Dwelling in the house of the Lord might just be the daily decision we make to allow God to change our perspective on the people and events that make up the world as we know it. The house in question is not a building, of course, but a place from which all else derives meaning, purpose, and perspective. It’s the place for resetting our lives and outlooks. It happens when we allow his word to occupy our minds.
Prayer: Lord, it is so easy to forget that You know this world and its inhabitants far better than I do. Forgive me for drawing final conclusions without consulting the Word You have spoken and Word which Jesus became. Teach me what it means to dwell in the world as though it truly was the house of the Lord. Amen.
Monday, Feb 22: Ps. 119:73–80; John 2:1–12; Eph. 2:1–10
Have you “re-purposed” anything lately? Maybe it was something that had outlived its usefulness for its intended function, but could be used for something else--perhaps something never imagined by the creator of the object. Maybe it was something you really didn’t need, but it became a substitute for something you didn’t have. Or maybe something very ordinary was turned into a work of art because of the creative imagination and/or the skilled hands of an artist. But did you ever hear of water being repurposed as wine?
Taking the ordinary things and turning them to extraordinary purposes is something God specializes in doing. After all, wouldn’t the consummate artist who imagined and created the universe know a thing or two about making things and fitting them for a purpose? He even does it with words. Ordinary words, arranged in what we think of as dead, dry laws, become the source of the psalmist’s reflections as he saw the lawgiver through the lens of the law. The result is an appreciation of the law for exactly that reason--by thinking about the law, he could understand the world and its maker better than he did before.
Water becoming wine is an amazing story in the early stages of Jesus’ ministry. Not only did he effect the change, but he did so in such a way that water became the best wine. Spectacular, but not life-changing for us. That is, unless we see it as illustrative of what his spirit does with ordinary people. Ordinary--the ones that have messed up their own lives and the lives of others in ways they might not even have knowledge of, the ones with extremely high and extremely low understanding of their true value, the ones very unsure of how to cope with life’s unwanted twists and turns, the ones who wonder what good they are. Ordinary, and hopelessly lost. Those are the ones God is repurposing to do unimagined good things in the world. People like you, like me.
Prayer: Lord, I don’t know what sort of good works you have in mind for me to do today. I realize how many times I haven’t even been looking to fulfill a purpose you might have had for me to do. Hear my prayer for your grace, which alone can save me and which alone can fill me with the vision and the power to do what you would have me to do today. Amen.
Tuesday, Feb. 23: Ps. 34; John 2:13–22; Job 5:8–27
How do you handle things when life doesn’t go according to plan? Not the little day to day annoyances such as slow traffic or lousy weather when you need a sunny day, but the truly disruptive things that threaten to significantly alter the course of your life. It could be health, finances, relationships, or other major aspects of life that will require a wholly different pattern to be adopted. Most of us respond with some combination of fear, apprehension, anger, bewilderment, confusion, hope, and trust.
Hope? Trust? They might well be in short supply, but they are not likely to be totally absent. If it were not so, a way forward might not be possible. One of the consistent dilemmas in the life of faith is putting together the belief that God knows our circumstance and promises to sustain us, yet seems not to be paying attention. We want to hope, we want to trust, but it’s difficult. Wouldn’t it be easier to deny that He is there at all? That way we wouldn’t have the double dose of anguish--the one from the circumstance and the one from the crisis of faith not finding its object. Job knew that anguish. So, too would Jesus, except for one thing--he knew he would not survive the ordeal he would face in the coming weeks. Yet his trust was unwavering because he also knew that the Father had more in mind than his earthly survival. Go ahead, destroy this body; it won’t be the last word. That’s trust. That’s hope.
None of our plans in life are guaranteed. God’s presence is not to make sure our plans succeed and our expectations are fulfilled, no matter how reasonable and good they may be. Our faith is that God will indeed raise us up again, no matter how bleak the future appears.
Prayer: Father, teach me to rest my hope in you--not in any condition I want you to bring about in my life, but in you alone. Show me that faith overcomes doubt, even if it takes time. Teach me the perseverance that sustained Job until his faith became sight. Forgive me for setting too small an expectation upon you. Amen.
Wednesday, Feb. 24: Ps. 5; John 2:23—3:15; Prov. 30:1–9
Did you ever wonder why Jesus used the illustration of being “born again” with Nicodemus? Did you ever wonder about the implications that metaphor has for our lives as believers?
So much emphasis has been placed on the “new birth” that we can easily overlook what comes after that birth. Birth is entry into life. And the new birth is an entry into a new kind of life. Birth is the entry, not the new life itself. Jesus was telling Nicodemus at least two things: 1) that he cannot live the new kind of life without a whole new starting point; and 2) that this “rebirth” is truly into a life that is different from what he had known. It has a different outlook, different expectations, different reactions to people and events. It sees people differently, it takes up their sorrows and rejoices in their good fortune; it refuses to be overcome by evil, it returns a blessing for curses; it does not seek retaliation, does not settle scores, and does not take offense. In today’s psalm, the writer takes his frustrations over the acts of the wicked to God, not to the streets.
When we put it this way and see “born again” as living differently, we should assess ourselves regarding how we respond to evil, how we express our disappointments and frustrations. Is it the same as the non-Christian people with whom we share life? Or is it as people born into a different life, the life of the kingdom for which we are destined? It’s so easy to fall in line with the world, so difficult to live as those born into Christ.
Prayer: Lord, awaken within me that life for which you gave me new birth. Guide me to maturity in that life, that I might live today as a child of light. I wish to confess my frustrations with wickedness to you, for you have seen it all--and you chose to come and die for it all. Amen.
Thursday, Feb. 25: Ps. 147:12–20; John 3:16–21; Rom. 3:21–31
One of the most repeated phrases through the first several months of the COVID-19 epidemic has been “we’re all in this together.” The intent, of course, is to assure us that while sacrifices are required in order for the effects of the virus to be overcome, we are all sharing in making those sacrifices. We can all fall ill from the virus, and we can all do something to see that it is less likely to happen to our neighbors, acquaintances, and fellow workers. While the effects and sacrifices are not equally born by all members of society, we can all do something. The virus, like hurricanes, tornados, and other natural effects, is not a respecter of persons; we’re all susceptible if exposed. It’s true.
There’s another aspect of life in which we are truly together. We have all fallen short of the glory of God. We have not lived up to the kind of life he designed for us to live. All of us. It does not matter, what religion, what race, what political party, what address, what social status, what physical gifts we might claim. We are in the sin thing together. Furthermore, we cannot extricate ourselves from the class of people known as sinners. It sounds like a term we would reserve for the “really bad” people, the ones who do things we would never even consider doing. But the fact is that you’re in that class, and so am I. Comparisons within the class mean nothing; we’re in it together. It’s true.
And it’s this class of people that God loved enough to send Jesus for its salvation. He didn’t send him to tell us how rotten we were; he sent him to save us. It’s something we should keep in mind when we observe the nasty and horrible things people often do. Those who do wrong don’t need condemnation, for that is already their lot; they need to know that God loves them, in spite of what they have done. After all, we as Christians did not earn our way out of condemnation with our good behavior. It took Jesus, coming and experiencing evil firsthand. For us; for everyone in that universal class of sinners. We all need grace, from the best of us to the worst of us. That’s also true.
Prayer: God, my Father, I humbly acknowledge that without the gift of your Son, I would have remained condemned. Your love would not let be silenced; you sent Christ to show us what you thought about us. Thank you, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Help me to extend to everyone the grace you have given me. It is not my place to condemn, but to tell by word and deed that there is redemption in Christ, for both the greatest and the least of sinners. Amen.
Friday, Feb. 26: Ps. 148; John 3:22–36; Rom. 4:1–12
There’s something about us as human beings that craves attention for our accomplishments. We want someone to recognize what we’ve done. In some cases, the desire for recognition far exceeds the deserving. In other cases, there is a feeling of despair when legitimately earned accolades are not forthcoming. Maybe it’s born of an internal, subconscious desire to hear a parent saying, “well done! I’m proud of you.”
John the Baptist could have been annoyed, then, when some new guy was drawing away the crowds that had once followed him. His close associates were miffed, and thought John should be also. But his response showed that he knew his place, and that his role was about to come to an end, and that it was okay. All was as it should be.
Scripture says it in many different ways, but the idea that no one earns salvation, or a place in the kingdom of God, is clearly stated in the Romans text for the day. Not even Abraham, nor anyone else, has entered into God’s redemption because they did something to deserve it. Abraham believed God; that was considered as righteousness, and it continues to be so for everyone since then. Do I believe what God says enough to act on it because it’s true? It is so much against the grain of our culture, where everything must be earned by whatever means of ingenuity, resolve, cleverness, or strength of will we can muster. Carrying that mindset into our relationship with God is dangerous. He has done all that needs to be done, but sometimes we’re too proud to accept that we need nothing but his grace and our humble response.
Prayer: Lord, I’m tired of trying unsuccessfully to earn my way to you. You’ve already opened that door and invited me to come in, bringing nothing but a humble desire to follow where you lead me. I want only to serve by representing you well to the people I will meet today and tomorrow, whoever they may be. Amen.
Saturday, Feb. 27: Ps. 149; John 4:1–26; Gen. 16:7–15
She was a Samaritan; Jesus was a Jew, which meant he was supposed to hold an air of righteous animosity toward her. But he talked to her. She was a woman, he was a man, which meant it would be inappropriate for him to speak to her. But he did. She was a five-time divorcee and living with another man to whom she was not married; Jesus was the Son of God, who knew no sin. But he talked to her. She was below virtually all other people on any scale of value at the time; Jesus had no need to prove his worth, having already performed miracles. Not only did Jesus talk to her, but he put himself into a dependent position toward her by asking her for a drink of water, giving her dignity. Differences between people did not matter to Jesus. People mattered to him.
Our world has become so focused on the differences between and among people that we have a hard time accepting that all the families of the earth have a common Father. Out of all the nations of the earth, all the races we have identified, he is making one new people. In that new people there is neither male nor female, Jew or Gentile, slave or free; there are no boundaries of nation, class or occupation.
So why do we still treat people differently based on the distinctions that God’s word says no longer apply? And why have we failed to speak up when someone in the church family speaks disparagingly of another racial or ethnic group? Why have we not taught our children to reject labels for “those people”? It’s a beautiful thing when people of different nations and backgrounds, races and classes come together in the name of the Lord. Let’s not hinder it.
Prayer: Lord, forgive me if I have been a hindrance to your work of making one united people to declare your good news throughout the world. Help me to see all your people as part of your family, bought by the same Christ who saved me, filled with the same Spirit who guides me and fills me for service.
We all need a reset at times. We’ve been reminded of this by the corona virus epidemic; it has changed a lot of things about the world and about the way we look at it. It is likely that even after the crisis has ended, things will look different from the way we saw them before. Where will we go to have our thoughts reset in the best way?
We could go to the presumed experts and “follow the science.” But science can only tell us what is; it is no longer science when it tells us what to do about it. We could follow the suggestions of political leaders of one party or another, as interpreted by the news media. Or, as most people end up doing at the end of the day, we could simply take our cues from what those around us are thinking and doing. It might be a case of the blind leading the blind, but at least we’d all be in it together.
But what if we took a total reset? What if we would “dwell in the house of the Lord”? What if he took us up on the mountain and showed to us a vision of glory--infinite beauty--that we never imagined to exist? Would it change what we thought was possible? Would it change our expectations, or the limits within which we have lived? Dwelling in the house of the Lord might just be the daily decision we make to allow God to change our perspective on the people and events that make up the world as we know it. The house in question is not a building, of course, but a place from which all else derives meaning, purpose, and perspective. It’s the place for resetting our lives and outlooks. It happens when we allow his word to occupy our minds.
Prayer: Lord, it is so easy to forget that You know this world and its inhabitants far better than I do. Forgive me for drawing final conclusions without consulting the Word You have spoken and Word which Jesus became. Teach me what it means to dwell in the world as though it truly was the house of the Lord. Amen.
Monday, Feb 22: Ps. 119:73–80; John 2:1–12; Eph. 2:1–10
Have you “re-purposed” anything lately? Maybe it was something that had outlived its usefulness for its intended function, but could be used for something else--perhaps something never imagined by the creator of the object. Maybe it was something you really didn’t need, but it became a substitute for something you didn’t have. Or maybe something very ordinary was turned into a work of art because of the creative imagination and/or the skilled hands of an artist. But did you ever hear of water being repurposed as wine?
Taking the ordinary things and turning them to extraordinary purposes is something God specializes in doing. After all, wouldn’t the consummate artist who imagined and created the universe know a thing or two about making things and fitting them for a purpose? He even does it with words. Ordinary words, arranged in what we think of as dead, dry laws, become the source of the psalmist’s reflections as he saw the lawgiver through the lens of the law. The result is an appreciation of the law for exactly that reason--by thinking about the law, he could understand the world and its maker better than he did before.
Water becoming wine is an amazing story in the early stages of Jesus’ ministry. Not only did he effect the change, but he did so in such a way that water became the best wine. Spectacular, but not life-changing for us. That is, unless we see it as illustrative of what his spirit does with ordinary people. Ordinary--the ones that have messed up their own lives and the lives of others in ways they might not even have knowledge of, the ones with extremely high and extremely low understanding of their true value, the ones very unsure of how to cope with life’s unwanted twists and turns, the ones who wonder what good they are. Ordinary, and hopelessly lost. Those are the ones God is repurposing to do unimagined good things in the world. People like you, like me.
Prayer: Lord, I don’t know what sort of good works you have in mind for me to do today. I realize how many times I haven’t even been looking to fulfill a purpose you might have had for me to do. Hear my prayer for your grace, which alone can save me and which alone can fill me with the vision and the power to do what you would have me to do today. Amen.
Tuesday, Feb. 23: Ps. 34; John 2:13–22; Job 5:8–27
How do you handle things when life doesn’t go according to plan? Not the little day to day annoyances such as slow traffic or lousy weather when you need a sunny day, but the truly disruptive things that threaten to significantly alter the course of your life. It could be health, finances, relationships, or other major aspects of life that will require a wholly different pattern to be adopted. Most of us respond with some combination of fear, apprehension, anger, bewilderment, confusion, hope, and trust.
Hope? Trust? They might well be in short supply, but they are not likely to be totally absent. If it were not so, a way forward might not be possible. One of the consistent dilemmas in the life of faith is putting together the belief that God knows our circumstance and promises to sustain us, yet seems not to be paying attention. We want to hope, we want to trust, but it’s difficult. Wouldn’t it be easier to deny that He is there at all? That way we wouldn’t have the double dose of anguish--the one from the circumstance and the one from the crisis of faith not finding its object. Job knew that anguish. So, too would Jesus, except for one thing--he knew he would not survive the ordeal he would face in the coming weeks. Yet his trust was unwavering because he also knew that the Father had more in mind than his earthly survival. Go ahead, destroy this body; it won’t be the last word. That’s trust. That’s hope.
None of our plans in life are guaranteed. God’s presence is not to make sure our plans succeed and our expectations are fulfilled, no matter how reasonable and good they may be. Our faith is that God will indeed raise us up again, no matter how bleak the future appears.
Prayer: Father, teach me to rest my hope in you--not in any condition I want you to bring about in my life, but in you alone. Show me that faith overcomes doubt, even if it takes time. Teach me the perseverance that sustained Job until his faith became sight. Forgive me for setting too small an expectation upon you. Amen.
Wednesday, Feb. 24: Ps. 5; John 2:23—3:15; Prov. 30:1–9
Did you ever wonder why Jesus used the illustration of being “born again” with Nicodemus? Did you ever wonder about the implications that metaphor has for our lives as believers?
So much emphasis has been placed on the “new birth” that we can easily overlook what comes after that birth. Birth is entry into life. And the new birth is an entry into a new kind of life. Birth is the entry, not the new life itself. Jesus was telling Nicodemus at least two things: 1) that he cannot live the new kind of life without a whole new starting point; and 2) that this “rebirth” is truly into a life that is different from what he had known. It has a different outlook, different expectations, different reactions to people and events. It sees people differently, it takes up their sorrows and rejoices in their good fortune; it refuses to be overcome by evil, it returns a blessing for curses; it does not seek retaliation, does not settle scores, and does not take offense. In today’s psalm, the writer takes his frustrations over the acts of the wicked to God, not to the streets.
When we put it this way and see “born again” as living differently, we should assess ourselves regarding how we respond to evil, how we express our disappointments and frustrations. Is it the same as the non-Christian people with whom we share life? Or is it as people born into a different life, the life of the kingdom for which we are destined? It’s so easy to fall in line with the world, so difficult to live as those born into Christ.
Prayer: Lord, awaken within me that life for which you gave me new birth. Guide me to maturity in that life, that I might live today as a child of light. I wish to confess my frustrations with wickedness to you, for you have seen it all--and you chose to come and die for it all. Amen.
Thursday, Feb. 25: Ps. 147:12–20; John 3:16–21; Rom. 3:21–31
One of the most repeated phrases through the first several months of the COVID-19 epidemic has been “we’re all in this together.” The intent, of course, is to assure us that while sacrifices are required in order for the effects of the virus to be overcome, we are all sharing in making those sacrifices. We can all fall ill from the virus, and we can all do something to see that it is less likely to happen to our neighbors, acquaintances, and fellow workers. While the effects and sacrifices are not equally born by all members of society, we can all do something. The virus, like hurricanes, tornados, and other natural effects, is not a respecter of persons; we’re all susceptible if exposed. It’s true.
There’s another aspect of life in which we are truly together. We have all fallen short of the glory of God. We have not lived up to the kind of life he designed for us to live. All of us. It does not matter, what religion, what race, what political party, what address, what social status, what physical gifts we might claim. We are in the sin thing together. Furthermore, we cannot extricate ourselves from the class of people known as sinners. It sounds like a term we would reserve for the “really bad” people, the ones who do things we would never even consider doing. But the fact is that you’re in that class, and so am I. Comparisons within the class mean nothing; we’re in it together. It’s true.
And it’s this class of people that God loved enough to send Jesus for its salvation. He didn’t send him to tell us how rotten we were; he sent him to save us. It’s something we should keep in mind when we observe the nasty and horrible things people often do. Those who do wrong don’t need condemnation, for that is already their lot; they need to know that God loves them, in spite of what they have done. After all, we as Christians did not earn our way out of condemnation with our good behavior. It took Jesus, coming and experiencing evil firsthand. For us; for everyone in that universal class of sinners. We all need grace, from the best of us to the worst of us. That’s also true.
Prayer: God, my Father, I humbly acknowledge that without the gift of your Son, I would have remained condemned. Your love would not let be silenced; you sent Christ to show us what you thought about us. Thank you, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Help me to extend to everyone the grace you have given me. It is not my place to condemn, but to tell by word and deed that there is redemption in Christ, for both the greatest and the least of sinners. Amen.
Friday, Feb. 26: Ps. 148; John 3:22–36; Rom. 4:1–12
There’s something about us as human beings that craves attention for our accomplishments. We want someone to recognize what we’ve done. In some cases, the desire for recognition far exceeds the deserving. In other cases, there is a feeling of despair when legitimately earned accolades are not forthcoming. Maybe it’s born of an internal, subconscious desire to hear a parent saying, “well done! I’m proud of you.”
John the Baptist could have been annoyed, then, when some new guy was drawing away the crowds that had once followed him. His close associates were miffed, and thought John should be also. But his response showed that he knew his place, and that his role was about to come to an end, and that it was okay. All was as it should be.
Scripture says it in many different ways, but the idea that no one earns salvation, or a place in the kingdom of God, is clearly stated in the Romans text for the day. Not even Abraham, nor anyone else, has entered into God’s redemption because they did something to deserve it. Abraham believed God; that was considered as righteousness, and it continues to be so for everyone since then. Do I believe what God says enough to act on it because it’s true? It is so much against the grain of our culture, where everything must be earned by whatever means of ingenuity, resolve, cleverness, or strength of will we can muster. Carrying that mindset into our relationship with God is dangerous. He has done all that needs to be done, but sometimes we’re too proud to accept that we need nothing but his grace and our humble response.
Prayer: Lord, I’m tired of trying unsuccessfully to earn my way to you. You’ve already opened that door and invited me to come in, bringing nothing but a humble desire to follow where you lead me. I want only to serve by representing you well to the people I will meet today and tomorrow, whoever they may be. Amen.
Saturday, Feb. 27: Ps. 149; John 4:1–26; Gen. 16:7–15
She was a Samaritan; Jesus was a Jew, which meant he was supposed to hold an air of righteous animosity toward her. But he talked to her. She was a woman, he was a man, which meant it would be inappropriate for him to speak to her. But he did. She was a five-time divorcee and living with another man to whom she was not married; Jesus was the Son of God, who knew no sin. But he talked to her. She was below virtually all other people on any scale of value at the time; Jesus had no need to prove his worth, having already performed miracles. Not only did Jesus talk to her, but he put himself into a dependent position toward her by asking her for a drink of water, giving her dignity. Differences between people did not matter to Jesus. People mattered to him.
Our world has become so focused on the differences between and among people that we have a hard time accepting that all the families of the earth have a common Father. Out of all the nations of the earth, all the races we have identified, he is making one new people. In that new people there is neither male nor female, Jew or Gentile, slave or free; there are no boundaries of nation, class or occupation.
So why do we still treat people differently based on the distinctions that God’s word says no longer apply? And why have we failed to speak up when someone in the church family speaks disparagingly of another racial or ethnic group? Why have we not taught our children to reject labels for “those people”? It’s a beautiful thing when people of different nations and backgrounds, races and classes come together in the name of the Lord. Let’s not hinder it.
Prayer: Lord, forgive me if I have been a hindrance to your work of making one united people to declare your good news throughout the world. Help me to see all your people as part of your family, bought by the same Christ who saved me, filled with the same Spirit who guides me and fills me for service.