Today at the team meeting, we decided to temporarily change the format of the daily devotionals over the next nine weeks as we enter into a communal discernment process to redefine the nature of our ministry to the children here at Westview. Four to five days of the week we will consider various lectionary readings, and meditate upon them (lectio divina) as our daily devotion. One or two days of the week, we will include a devotional thought. The plan is for the devotionals to resume their more normal form later this fall as we complete our project.
For those of you who need something a little more directed, you can go to the devotional blog at: www.wbhdevos.blogspot.com and either look through the chronological listing for a devotional, or you may enter a subject to search for in the blog by typing in the little white window in the blue stripe across the top of the blog. Since there are now over 365 devotionals posted on this site, we hope that you can find something there that builds you up, challenges you, or comforts you.
Hear the word of the Lord:
Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. In fulfillment of his own purpose he gave us birth by the word of truth, so that we would become a kind of first fruits of his creatures.
You must understand this, my beloved: let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God's righteousness. Therefore rid yourselves of all sordidness and rank growth of wickedness, and welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls.
But be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves. For if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like. But those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act — they will be blessed in their doing.
If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless. Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.
James 1:17-27 – NRSV
Friday, September 4, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Clean hearts ...
Hear the word of the Lord:
Now when the Pharisees and some of the scribes who had come from Jerusalem gathered around him, they noticed that some of his disciples were eating with defiled hands, that is, without washing them. (For the Pharisees, and all the Jews, do not eat unless they thoroughly wash their hands, thus observing the tradition of the elders; and they do not eat anything from the market unless they wash it; and there are also many other traditions that they observe, the washing of cups, pots, and bronze kettles.)
So the Pharisees and the scribes asked him, "Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?"
He said to them,
"Isaiah prophesied rightly about you hypocrites, as it is written,
'This people honors me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me;
in vain do they worship me,
teaching human precepts as doctrines.'
You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition."
Then he called the crowd again and said to them, "Listen to me, all of you, and understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile."
. . .
When he had left the crowd and entered the house . . . he said to them [his disciples], "Then do you also fail to understand? Do you not see that whatever goes into a person from outside cannot defile, since it enters, not the heart but the stomach, and goes out into the sewer?" (Thus he declared all foods clean.) And he said, "It is what comes out of a person that defiles. For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person."
If Jesus thought that the Pharisees were obsessed with washing and cleanliness, I wonder what he would think of us? For us, after all, it is not enough to clean the inside and the outside of the cup – we have to sterilize it. With clean water. Water cleaner than anything that they had to drink in the first century except for the newly-fallen rain. And when the very fact of our humanity requires us to come in contact with those things that might contaminate us, we immediately conceal and dispose of that uncleanness. This is much more obsessive compulsive than anything the Pharisees could contemplate.
Don’t get me wrong – I’m really into clean. Yet this modern compulsion to cleanliness is too often parallel to our concerns for spiritual sanitation. Remember that this was really what irritated Jesus in the first place. It wasn’t that Jesus disdained cleanliness; it was that Jesus hated arbitrary human rules about cleanliness keeping people separated from God.
Like the five-second rule that some have for dropping food onto the floor, do we have a “five-second” rule for dealing with the “sinners” in our world? Are we concerned that our reputation is so fragile that the mud-slinging foul name-calling of a fool is going to shatter it? Are we afraid that our emotional control is so limited and our temper is so devastating that we avoid people who irritate us with their stupidity or make us angry with their wrong-headedness? Or do we believe that our faith is so weak that five minutes alongside a companion with evil in their heart and profanity on their lips is going to corrupt our good morals? Maybe we’ve been able to move on from these self-obsessed fears.
Only to find ourselves protecting others that we love from this “uncleanness.”
Evil comes from our choice of evil.
Yes, we may be genetically predisposed to
certain things that might be evil,
but we still have a choice.
Perhaps something in our history means
that we have been traumatized
so that we tend to react in certain ways,
but we still have a choice.
Perhaps we are surrounded with rudeness, crudeness, and evil
as some sort of cruel community, some evil environment,
yet we still have a choice,
and we still have a responsibility for those choices.
Jesus spoke about the heart in another place, too.
“The good person out of the good treasure of the heart produces good,
and the evil person out of evil treasure produces evil; for it is out of the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaks.”
May we trust in the overflow of our heart.
Blessings,
Ron
Mark 7:1-23 – Luke 6:45 – NRSV
Now when the Pharisees and some of the scribes who had come from Jerusalem gathered around him, they noticed that some of his disciples were eating with defiled hands, that is, without washing them. (For the Pharisees, and all the Jews, do not eat unless they thoroughly wash their hands, thus observing the tradition of the elders; and they do not eat anything from the market unless they wash it; and there are also many other traditions that they observe, the washing of cups, pots, and bronze kettles.)
So the Pharisees and the scribes asked him, "Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?"
He said to them,
"Isaiah prophesied rightly about you hypocrites, as it is written,
'This people honors me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me;
in vain do they worship me,
teaching human precepts as doctrines.'
You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition."
Then he called the crowd again and said to them, "Listen to me, all of you, and understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile."
. . .
When he had left the crowd and entered the house . . . he said to them [his disciples], "Then do you also fail to understand? Do you not see that whatever goes into a person from outside cannot defile, since it enters, not the heart but the stomach, and goes out into the sewer?" (Thus he declared all foods clean.) And he said, "It is what comes out of a person that defiles. For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person."
If Jesus thought that the Pharisees were obsessed with washing and cleanliness, I wonder what he would think of us? For us, after all, it is not enough to clean the inside and the outside of the cup – we have to sterilize it. With clean water. Water cleaner than anything that they had to drink in the first century except for the newly-fallen rain. And when the very fact of our humanity requires us to come in contact with those things that might contaminate us, we immediately conceal and dispose of that uncleanness. This is much more obsessive compulsive than anything the Pharisees could contemplate.
Don’t get me wrong – I’m really into clean. Yet this modern compulsion to cleanliness is too often parallel to our concerns for spiritual sanitation. Remember that this was really what irritated Jesus in the first place. It wasn’t that Jesus disdained cleanliness; it was that Jesus hated arbitrary human rules about cleanliness keeping people separated from God.
Like the five-second rule that some have for dropping food onto the floor, do we have a “five-second” rule for dealing with the “sinners” in our world? Are we concerned that our reputation is so fragile that the mud-slinging foul name-calling of a fool is going to shatter it? Are we afraid that our emotional control is so limited and our temper is so devastating that we avoid people who irritate us with their stupidity or make us angry with their wrong-headedness? Or do we believe that our faith is so weak that five minutes alongside a companion with evil in their heart and profanity on their lips is going to corrupt our good morals? Maybe we’ve been able to move on from these self-obsessed fears.
Only to find ourselves protecting others that we love from this “uncleanness.”
Evil comes from our choice of evil.
Yes, we may be genetically predisposed to
certain things that might be evil,
but we still have a choice.
Perhaps something in our history means
that we have been traumatized
so that we tend to react in certain ways,
but we still have a choice.
Perhaps we are surrounded with rudeness, crudeness, and evil
as some sort of cruel community, some evil environment,
yet we still have a choice,
and we still have a responsibility for those choices.
Jesus spoke about the heart in another place, too.
“The good person out of the good treasure of the heart produces good,
and the evil person out of evil treasure produces evil; for it is out of the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaks.”
May we trust in the overflow of our heart.
Blessings,
Ron
Mark 7:1-23 – Luke 6:45 – NRSV
Monday, August 31, 2009
In your tent ...
Hear the word of the Lord from Psalm 15:
O Lord, who may abide in your tent?
Who may dwell on your holy hill?
Those who walk blamelessly, and do what is right,
and speak the truth from their heart;
who do not slander with their tongue,
and do no evil to their friends,
nor take up a reproach against their neighbors;
in whose eyes the wicked are despised,
but who honor those who fear the Lord;
who stand by their oath even to their hurt;
who do not lend money at interest,
and do not take a bribe against the innocent.
Those who do these things shall never be moved.
What image do you see when you read about the tent of the Lord here? Do you think of the tabernacle, its careful construction, its sparse but beautiful furnishings, its unusual size for a tent meant for the desert?
Or perhaps the talk of the “holy hill” makes you picture Jerusalem, the stunning white stone of the temple, the carefully tended lamps within and fires without, the many faithful who gather in its courtyards to worship the one true and living God?
It may be that your picture is very precise, and that you imagine the days of Jerusalem, recently conquered by David, his new palace of cedar on one ridge near the tent that shelters the ark, awaiting the day that God will allow Solomon to build the temple.
Any of these are possible, but I have another image, too. The tent is a caravan tent, perched on the leeward side of a large sand dune. It is large, well-traveled tent, the kind that belongs to a prince. Inside there is this amazing collection of people reclined at the table with that prince, surprisingly diverse. They are not only Arab and Jewish, or even Syrian or Ethiopian, but but also others who appear to come from around the globe. Unlike the tents of so many sultans, both men and women, young and old lean into the low table, abundantly supplied with a simple, yet beautiful, meal. I do not yet know all of their stories, yet I already sense that these are people whose amazing lives are intimately connected with the life of the host.
I know that I have been invited into this tent, but then I remember how those who dwell there are described: “Those who walk blamelessly, and do what is right.” As much as I celebrate the invitation, I cannot say that my walk is blameless, nor that what I do is always right. The first words out of my mouth are a prayer, instinctively a plea to the host: “Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”
I want to be at this table.
I want to walk blamelessly, and do what is right,
I want to be known as one who speaks the truth from my heart;
And who will not slander with my tongue,
I want it to be unbelievable that I would do any evil to my friends,
or take up a reproach against my neighbors;
I want it to be known that in my eyes wickedness is despised,
but that I honor those who fear the Lord;
that I respect those who stand by their oath even to their hurt;
that my friends do not lend money at interest,
or take bribes against the innocent.
Perhaps some of these things are true because of my virtue; perhaps others are true because I have not perceived the opportunity to violate them. Yet can I say that all of them are true?
In all of these things, it is the power of my host, my elder brother, Jesus Christ, that makes it possible for me to be in this tent, to recline at this table as if I belong here. The God who makes that which is not as if it were makes the righteousness that I have not as if it were real. So I do the best I can. I say my twelve-worded prayer more times a day that you might imagine. I depend upon my host to make my place at the table, because I understand, after so many decades, that it is his declaration, and not my deserving, that brings me to share dessert with the amazing people circled in this desert tent.
Come, abide in his tent.
Ron
Psalm 15 – NRSV
O Lord, who may abide in your tent?
Who may dwell on your holy hill?
Those who walk blamelessly, and do what is right,
and speak the truth from their heart;
who do not slander with their tongue,
and do no evil to their friends,
nor take up a reproach against their neighbors;
in whose eyes the wicked are despised,
but who honor those who fear the Lord;
who stand by their oath even to their hurt;
who do not lend money at interest,
and do not take a bribe against the innocent.
Those who do these things shall never be moved.
What image do you see when you read about the tent of the Lord here? Do you think of the tabernacle, its careful construction, its sparse but beautiful furnishings, its unusual size for a tent meant for the desert?
Or perhaps the talk of the “holy hill” makes you picture Jerusalem, the stunning white stone of the temple, the carefully tended lamps within and fires without, the many faithful who gather in its courtyards to worship the one true and living God?
It may be that your picture is very precise, and that you imagine the days of Jerusalem, recently conquered by David, his new palace of cedar on one ridge near the tent that shelters the ark, awaiting the day that God will allow Solomon to build the temple.
Any of these are possible, but I have another image, too. The tent is a caravan tent, perched on the leeward side of a large sand dune. It is large, well-traveled tent, the kind that belongs to a prince. Inside there is this amazing collection of people reclined at the table with that prince, surprisingly diverse. They are not only Arab and Jewish, or even Syrian or Ethiopian, but but also others who appear to come from around the globe. Unlike the tents of so many sultans, both men and women, young and old lean into the low table, abundantly supplied with a simple, yet beautiful, meal. I do not yet know all of their stories, yet I already sense that these are people whose amazing lives are intimately connected with the life of the host.
I know that I have been invited into this tent, but then I remember how those who dwell there are described: “Those who walk blamelessly, and do what is right.” As much as I celebrate the invitation, I cannot say that my walk is blameless, nor that what I do is always right. The first words out of my mouth are a prayer, instinctively a plea to the host: “Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”
I want to be at this table.
I want to walk blamelessly, and do what is right,
I want to be known as one who speaks the truth from my heart;
And who will not slander with my tongue,
I want it to be unbelievable that I would do any evil to my friends,
or take up a reproach against my neighbors;
I want it to be known that in my eyes wickedness is despised,
but that I honor those who fear the Lord;
that I respect those who stand by their oath even to their hurt;
that my friends do not lend money at interest,
or take bribes against the innocent.
Perhaps some of these things are true because of my virtue; perhaps others are true because I have not perceived the opportunity to violate them. Yet can I say that all of them are true?
In all of these things, it is the power of my host, my elder brother, Jesus Christ, that makes it possible for me to be in this tent, to recline at this table as if I belong here. The God who makes that which is not as if it were makes the righteousness that I have not as if it were real. So I do the best I can. I say my twelve-worded prayer more times a day that you might imagine. I depend upon my host to make my place at the table, because I understand, after so many decades, that it is his declaration, and not my deserving, that brings me to share dessert with the amazing people circled in this desert tent.
Come, abide in his tent.
Ron
Psalm 15 – NRSV
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