My Word

If you abide in my word...you will know the truth
and the truth will set you free.
John 8:32

The words truth and freedom are rightly valued in our culture, as they should be for any human being. But there is a catch, well something much larger than just "a catch." When one hears the word truth, it is often accompanied by a pronoun: my. Or said differently, what is true for me, indicating that somehow truth is perceived to be subjective, or moderately subjective at best. The assumption is this: that the locus of truth, its source, is found in the individual. And this is perceived to be a good thing, for then I as an individual, am free. For how could I not be when I define truth?

The problem with this line of thinking–there are Legion–is it has exchanged the Truth for a lie. And anchoring yourself to a lie as the sole orientation of your life lands you in chains, enslaved to what is false. This, in turn, distorts your sense of self and purpose in the world.

Yet, as it is always the case with God, there is good news. There is a path to freedom that passes through the valley of truth and at its source: the Word who is Jesus. If you abide in my word...you will know the truth and the truth will set you free. Though we do not have the same experience of Jesus as the disciples did, we still have his word. It is the blessing and gift of the Holy Scriptures that are the word of God. And it is abiding in that word that leads us to Jesus.

He is the way, the truth, the life. Abide in him by abiding in the word, that you might know truth, that it might shape your identity, that it might open your eyes to the glorious purpose of your life. Dwell not in the shadow of lies that lead to slavery; walk in the light of Christ.

Grace & Peace,

– Matthew+

A Fortress for the Downcast

Let the Lord be a fortress for the downcast, a fortress in times of distress.
Psalm 9 (trans. Robert Alter)

A fortress is only as good as its foundation. For all the money and effort and blood poured into building a fortress–resplendent with gilded trim work and imported marble and the most exquisite ironwork–if the foundation is not sound, resolute, established, then the fortress is worthless. It has cost an exorbitant amount of money certainly. But it is worthless. More than that, it is a guise, a deception, a lie. For the assumption is that if so much time and effort were spent on the appearance, certainly time was spent on securing the foundation if, for nothing else, to preserve the investment.

But the purpose of a fortress is protection: to safeguard those fleeing for safety from unsafe circumstances; to provide a place for the displaced; to provide life for those from whom evil and wickedness has sought to destroy life. The fortresses of this world–ancient castles visited by tourists, our homes and apartments we inhabit every day, makeshift "forts" of blankets and chairs–are intended to declare the glory of God: he is a fortress for the downcast, a fortress in times of distress. As there is none other more sure, more stable, more loving, and more life-giving, he is the foundation of that fortress which is Himself.

When those words–downcast, distressed–describe your situation in life, let the Lord be your fortress. Let him be your fortress through prayer; meditation on the Psalms; gathering with the Church in worship even if your worship is your tears; sharing your heart with others who may help carry your burden if only in that you know you are not alone and that you are known. When those words–downcast, distressed–do not describe your immediate situation in life, let the Lord be your fortress. For then (and only there) do you find the freedom to thrive which is the language of life. And it is the Lord's desire that you have life and have it abundantly.

Grace & Peace

A Simple Faith

a little girl from the land of Israel
2 Kings 5:2

In our world of "bigger is better," the value of small things is easy to miss and easier to disregard. More than just disregarding the things of seemingly lesser value, we are also drawn toward the larger, louder moments and experiences as those which are (only) truly authentic and real. But highs only last for so long.

The story of Naaman the Syrian commander is found in 2 Kings 5. His story is known as he was plagued with leprosy. In this story we hear of a "little girl from the land of Israel" who was stolen from her land, her people, being yet another casualty of war. And though she does not exhibit a loud and boisterous part in the narrative, her faith is loudest of all by its simplicity and resiliency. Though dislocated and now in the forced servitude of another military leader, her faith in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob burns as a light in the darkness.

After being told of the prophet in Israel who would cure leprosy, Naaman departs, loaded down with the finery of Syria and prepared for what surely must be a ritual bursting with pomp and circumstance. (Is there any other way to cure the afflictions of one so mighty as Naaman?) But it was the very expectation of the spectacular, and a spectacular experience, that stood in the way of his healing. Or, we could say it this way: he lacked humility. But we see the beauty and power of humility in this "little girl from Israel."

Now to us. The simplicity of faith, the posture of humility, the "long and slow obedience in the same direction," can sound wonderful "on paper" but it takes time to put it into practice, it takes time to work down into our bones. So we need to start small and stay small. What does it look like to be faithful to Jesus when washing the dishes? What does it look like to be faithful to the Lord when in Zoom meetings for work? What does it look like to live by the Spirit when pouring your morning coffee or tea? Being faithful to the Lord in these, and all other aspects of our lives, is not only about what we do, but by knowing whose we are: "I have called you by name; you are mine." (Is 43:1)

Grace & Peace

Thinking of Whatever

whatever is true…honorable…just…pure…lovely…commendable,
if there is any excellence…anything worthy of praise, think about these things.
Philippians 4:8

Where does your mind go? In what fields does it wander? (Take a moment and ponder that. What occupies your thinking?) For many of us, a large portion of our thinking life is directed toward responsibilities: work, education, teaching children. And so our minds and thinking revolve around those (very good) responsibilities. But what about for the rest of our time, and for those who do not have such daily, mental responsibilities? Do you grab snatches of time to criticize another? Do you spend time lavishly on disassociating from life? Do you allow yourself to be pushed and pulled by the day’s events, giving agency of your mind over to the pressures or events of the day? These experiences make sense–there are understandable reasons why we might think these ways–and yet we should ask “how are such ways of thinking shaping us into the image of Jesus; to be like him in all things?”

As we are considering where our minds wander–or where we let them loose to roam–what about fields of joy? Do you lead your mind to that field, which may be found alongside the fields of beauty and goodness? This may often be harder to do. We have to work toward that field, as if it were an alpine field or meadow. There is goodness to be found there, but there is work involved in getting there. It is far easier to walk, maybe even just roll, down the mountainside to the marshy fields below. Little effort is required here.

I find St. Paul’s words, which he wrote to Christians in the city Philippi, helpful. Writing while in prison, he instructs them in their thinking. “Whatever is true…honorable…just…pure…lovely…commendable, if there is any excellence…anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” What he does not say is just as important as what he does say. He does not say if there is anything true, honorable, just, etc. let those things come to mind. That would be a passive approach. It would be akin to closing our eyes and then, on opening them, we somehow find ourselves in the field of joy. Not sure how we got here, but here we are. Rather, he takes an active approach in his instruction: “think about these things.” It is work; it requires effort; and for some of us, this is far harder than others for our minds are assailed by so many things. And Jesus knows this. But we can start where we are. We can put one foot in front of the other and as we do so, at some point we will realize that we have journeyed a distance. We will also find that we do not make this journey alone. We are aided and led by the Comforter of Christ, the Spirit of God.

Putting hand to the plow. As you read this, what if you were to take the next seven days–you need not stop there–and daily consider where you might see God’s presence in your day, however slight or slim it might appear? (It may be that we do not see God in our day-to-day lives because we are not looking for him.) Also, take a few moments, maybe at the end of the day, and review the past 24hrs with gratitude, naming those things, however slight or however magnanimous, for which you are grateful.

Taking our minds by the hand, aided and guided by the Holy Spirit, we may begin (or continue) to train them in the way of Jesus.

Grace & Peace

When Death is Gain

For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. – Philippians 1:21

Preservation, keeping what is currently before our eyes, is the mindset of our culture and the world. For we (supposedly) know what we can see. And if we cannot see it, then it is most likely not real. More than not being real, it is most likely a loss. The world would emend Paul's words to the Christians in Philippi to say: "to live is all there is; to die is to lose it all."

But the words of Paul are really a reflection on the Christ event: Jesus' death, burial, resurrection, and ascension. That Jesus has passed through death, thus defeating it–O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?–means, at least, that there is life beyond death. And that life, as Jesus speaks of it as well as the Early Church, is not some shadowland, a thin veneer of what life used to be which we live now in this world. Rather, that life, the life beyond the grave, is life lived in full color; life lived in real reality; life lived as it is intended to be: sweet communion.

But there is loss in that life. That loss is the loss of the presence of sin. That loss is the loss of shame. That loss is the loss of all that distorts and disrupts love for God and neighbor. That loss is the loss of hindered communion with God, namely through the person and presence of Jesus. If we were to "lose" such things, how can we not say they are gain?

As these things are so–they are true, they are real reality–they are meant to shape our lives in the present. This is an instance of the kingdom of God breaking into our world, our "reality" now. The life and reality of the world to come makes inroads into our daily existence. One outcome of this–there are many–is we may live, not enslaved to this present life, assuming that if we lose it we lose everything. Rather we are freed from that tyranny; freed to love and serve as faithful witnesses of Christ; freed to live lives of sacrificial love, counting others better than ourselves.

For to live is Christ; to die, gain.

Grace & Peace

The Illuminating Word

"Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path." Psalm 119:105

What is it that illuminates the path of your life? Perhaps we may even need first to acknowledge that we need a lamp. For acknowledging that we need a lamp states that we, by ourselves cannot see rightly or clearly. We are in the dark, at least some of the time. That itself is a needed and honest confession, one that may be easier for some, harder for others.

In considering the question, what illuminates the path of your life, we are asking a question of source. And the source of that light is an important consideration, for only if the source (the light itself) is true, good, and beautiful, can it be trusted. Moreover, only when the light is true, good, and beautiful does it illuminate our lives and the world and God rightly. This question is also of importance, for the nature of the light shapes what we see and therefore shapes us. For example, if our light is a cursory glance at a news feed, then our perception of the world is that it is all aflame, metaphorically and literally. If that news feed is our lamp–our perception of the world–then we will respond to it and its perspective of the world. We will panic or be anxious; we will become lethargic; we may take up arms in revolt (of what?).

As God has created all things and as he is the lover of our souls, his Word may be trusted, for only it is beautiful and only it reveals Beauty itself. A second question then arises: do you avail yourself of this most gracious light? There are certainly hours (days, maybe even weeks) when we may not feel like bathing in this light. That may be due to "mere" physical factors. There is also a spiritual component at work that we should not so easily dismiss. Regardless, the goodness of this lamp, the wholesomeness of its light, is not contingent on our emotions but on the one who authored it (to mix metaphors). That author is the same one who gave up his life that you, and all those who believe, might have life.

Here then is the encouragement. For those who daily draw to this gracious light, continue in that healthy habit. Encourage, with all understanding and grace, your brothers and sisters in the faith. For those who struggle to draw near daily, begin slowly but continue consistently. One excellent place to begin is the prayers of the Psalms. Even when you encounter passages that are confusing–and there are plenty of them–continue to bask in the light of God's Word, knowing that, as a plant slowly grows by basking in the rays of the sun, so too do you continue in growth by the power of his Word and Spirit.

There is such beauty to behold in this world, in each other, and in our God. His Scriptures help us see such things as they really are. More than that, his Holy Scriptures cast a light on our path, showing us the very way to Life and God.

Grace & Peace,

– Matthew+

A Spiritual Lesson from an Unlikely Tutor

Today I saw a most beautiful sight. I hope that you have seen it in your lifetime. But if not, it is my hope that one day you will see it. The sight I saw was grass. And it was beautiful because it was a lesson in spiritual formation.

This grass was not the nicely manicured lawns we might see in certain areas of our city. It was the long spindly and wild grass that has gone to seed, as they say. This little bit of green earth, unaware of my presence or existence, taught me much. The reason it had grown so high was because it continued to soak in the sun from above, to which it yearned to be ever nearer. It also soaked up the rain and nutrients from the soil that it might be healthy and thrive. That all these spindles of grass were where they were was not because they determined themselves to be there. Whether planted by a city employee or some other random event was not important. How they made their way to this little spot of earth did not matter. They simply grew where they were planted. They were faithful to that calling. And being faithful to that calling they were beautiful.

Their beauty was also seen in how they were moved along by the wind. The grass did not struggle against the wind nor stand in firm opposition to its gentle breeze. Rather, as it blew southward, the grass bent to the south. As it shifted directions and moved westward, the grass bent towards the sea. And yet when the wind was still, the grass stood tall, yearning again to be ever closer to the sun.

Such a simple picture. Such a beautiful picture. Such a simple lesson in spiritual life. The world in which we live in, created by our God, is teaming with lessons because it is charged with the grandeur of God. (Thank you Gerald Manley Hopkins.)

Learn from the grass. Be faithful to where you are planted. Yearn and strive for God, not out of desperation or anxiety or fear. Yearn for him, for there is life and joy and peace and love. Let his Spirit move you and listen to his guiding word. In so doing, you are beautiful, for you participate in the life of the Son, Jesus.

Grace & Peace,

– Matthew+

A Pleasing Apple

He found him in a desert land...he encircled him, he cared for him. – Deuteronomy 32:10

The "he" in this Song of Moses is the Lord and the "him" is Israel, the people of God. Note the grammar: who is the subject, who is the object, and what is the action described. Note the location described: a desert land.

It was not in the halls of a palace that the Lord found Israel, but in the howling waste of the wilderness. He found him there, that is (I think) the had searched for and found him. It was an intentional effort, not a random stumbling upon a lost wanderer. This is the heart of God: to find us. Recall God's word to Adam and Eve: Where are you? That is the language of seeking. And we should desire that he find us and that he delights to look in the desert places and not the halls of kings. For we all, regardless of our economic status, are destitute. If the Lord only searched in the halls of the wealthy, that is he only searched for those who impressed him, then we are all left clamoring for his affection, striving as we might and must to earn and gain his attention. (Perhaps we take up Elijah's taunt to the prophets of Baal to get God's attention.)

But the Lord searches among the desert land. What a grace that is, for then there is hope for you, me, all. It is not left to our effort, but his grace.

Moses sings on: He kept him as the apple of his eye. The Lord loves. The Lord loves you. Loves me. Why? How? How is it so that we have–not earned nor gained by our work!–his notice and affection? I suppose in a world not permeated by sin we would more readily understand, for there we would more readily understand grace. As of yet, in this world where we still suffer the infection of Satan, Sin, and Death, grace appears to be too much. And yet...grace is–it should be, we need it to be...–grace is enough.

Grace & Peace,

– Matthew+

The Limits of Love

Emmanuel Anglican –

A voice is heard in Ramah, lamentation and bitter weeping. Rachel is weeping for her children. – Jeremiah 31:15

Those words were written by the prophet Jeremiah to describe terrors unleashed on Israel. Those words were used by the Gospel-writer Matthew when he sought to describe the senseless slaughter of young Jewish boys. Those words are used this week to describe another–when will there be no "another!"–slaughter of young children, our children. They are our children for we reside in the same country. They are our children for they, like us, are human. And like Rachel, we also should weep for, we are a people who weep with those who weep.

Already the machine has been turned on once again. The machine of which I speak is the back-and-forth of our media and politicians. We all know this drill: one side shouts for gun reform and the other retorts with 2nd amendment rights. Yet we must reckon with two very clear realities: there is much evil within the human heart; there is much evil in our country. For I know of no other way to describe scenes like these, scenes where in the place of learning and that of young children, death is dealt at 30 rounds per minute.

I am not sure where to go from here. To offer platitudes is not helpful–it is in all likelihood more harmful–and it accomplishes nothing. To do nothing, to fail "to act in the midst of injustice", as Jemar Tisby says, "is itself an injustice." And the Church has long failed to act in a host of areas where she should have been the hands and feet of Jesus to the weary, the poor, the victim. Perhaps Christians need to reckon with the reality that love limits. It limits preference for ourselves at the expense of others. Love does not insist on its own way. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. It even endures what you might give up for the sake of another.

Grace & Peace,

– Matthew+

A Worthwhile Fight

You shall not fear them, for it is the Lord your God who fights for you.
–Deuteronomy 3:22

Words spoken by Moses to the people of Israel as they prepared to receive their inheritance. The them of which Moses speaks are the nations. Comforting words spoken, for the outcome of the warring is known. And yet Israel was to–had to–pass through the warring. She must pick up sword and spear to wage war.

Though the defeat of Sin is secured through Christ, often we do not engage in a war against sin, or at least certain sins. It is not that we fear them. Yet have we come to appreciate them, enjoy their company? When this happens we follow Israel in being lulled to spiritual sleep. These are deadly waters. Dangerous waters. Not because of their turbulence, but because of their seemingly quiet. Yet underneath the surface lies all manner of reek that only Cormac McCarthy could describe.

If it is the Lord who fights for me, for you, for his people, then the victory is secured, though war is still on the horizon. Also, if the Lord fights, the one against whom he fights must also be our enemies. No good can come from befriending the enemies of God–Satan, Sin, Death,–as if we might be more compassionate or gracious than He.

Engage the fight; the Lord fights for you.

Grace & Peace,

Matthew+

Putting Words to Practice

Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.

There is potency in these words, words that we proclaim every week as we gather at the Table of the Lord. They are like a strong draught to calm the soul. They are like a powerful medicine to purge the body of disease. They are like a mighty weapon to cut down sin, temptation, and pride. If we would but take them off the shelf.

To the soul that is weary by sorrow, grief, despair, depression, and the like, these words–to keep the metaphor going–should be uncorked. For only then, once they are drunk, may their truth pour forth into the soul. To the body that suffers from illness or disease–whether intermittent or persistent–these words should be swallowed so that their medicinal properties and qualities might begin their work in tissue and bone. To the heart that wages war against sin–retreating at times, making advances at others–these words must be unsheathed from their scabbard that they might win the victory and usher in freedom.

For in these words, and the truth they proclaim, the seeming hopelessness of our station–soul, body, heart–is confronted and overwhelmed with the hope of the Resurrection and Return of Jesus. This is not fanciful thinking. It does not discount or dismiss the trials and difficulties of this life. Nor does it promise instant relief. But these words remind us that Jesus and his Resurrection has the final say. And that final word of Jesus is "Take heart. I have overcome the world."

Grace & Peace,

Matthew+

The Flitting Heart

But when Pharaoh saw that there was a respite, he hardened his heart and would not listen...
Exodus 8:15

O the flitting heart of Pharaoh! When the signs of God came to bear on Pharaoh and the land of Egypt, he would plead with Moses and Aaron to pray for him. For surely this time, once the plague receded, then he would certainly–"Scout's honor"–let Israel go. But, no sooner had the Lord relented, than Pharaoh reverted to his old ways. His flitting heart was trying to manage the situation. And in managing the situation, the conclusion was: "Say that you will comply to get this God off your back. Then when things smooth out, we can return to business as usual."

There is no management of sin. There is not coaxing it into submission. And there is no sense in modeling your heart after that of Pharaoh's: flitting about, trying to avoid the presence of God in order to keep your heart's desire. But it is not enough to hear "let that sin go!" For such a bold statement does not necessarily stir the affections of the heart. And if the heart is not stirred, then we are merely playing games.

So what do we do? To begin, you might stare your sin in the face and ask a question it is not prepared to answer: "do you love me?" And if your sin does not love you with a true, sacrificial, redemptive love, why stay harnessed to it, enslaved to it? Let it go, that you might be more fully embraced by the One who does love you. And how do we know that he loves us? "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends."

Sin will never lay down its life for you, for it does not love. It cannot. But Jesus...well he is a different story.

Grace & Peace,

– Matthew+

Life, Yielded

We believe in the Holy Spirit,
the Lord and Giver of Life
– Nicene Creed

If I had to distill our diocesan gathering that took place last week into one word, it would be the word yield. Though a simple and small word, living a life yielded is almost, if not, impossible. For the action of yielding is not innate to the human heart. To yield is to lay down arms; it is to live life with hands open in a posture of receiving; it is for a life to be shaped by those words not my will, but Yours. Our hearts, left to themselves, seek after control. For control, we naively believe, will save us. If I am the captain of my soul (William Ernest Henley), then I must remain in control of my life at all times, handing over the reigns to none other than Self.

The narrative of Scripture, and the narrative of Society more generally, tells many tales of those who seek after control and attempt to wield it. We need only venture to the first few pages of Scripture to see how quickly all things turn to rot when humans seek after control and forego yielding. Of course we are not to yield simply to any one thing or person. Our yielding is to be offered up to the one who emptied himself and yielded to death (Phil 2); to him who yielded his will to the Father in Gethsemane (Matthew 26); to him who yielded up his very life as an offering on the cross (Luke 23). And, as this Jesus has ascended to his Father and our Father–thanks be to God!,–we in this world see him no longer as the first century followers did. Yet, he has given us a gift. The gift, who is the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of Life.

This Spirit is the third Person of the glorious Trinity, who is. And we, the people of God, are to be those in whom this Spirit dwells, that he might mature us, shaping and forming us into the image of the Son, that our lives might rejoice in truth, love, compassion, grace, and justice, for all such things are of God and flow from him. And it is the Spirit who leads us to find our peace, joy, and contentment in God himself. And this he will do, when we yield; when we stop wresting control; when we yield to His voice and cease making excuses or justifications. Excuse-making and justifying wrongdoing is the clambering for control. And our world is shot through with control's reek. But, the peaceableness of a yielded life, yielding to the Spirit, is a sweet fragrance. For the life lived by the Spirit, is a life lived in the sweetness of Christ. And that aroma will never tire, never fade, never dull, never grow stale.

Be the aroma of Christ, Friend, by yielding to the Spirit.

Grace & Peace,

– Matthew

Is Not Life More?

Is not life more than what you think it is?
Frederick Buechner

I ran across these words of Buechner in his small yet profound book Telling the Truth. He is, of course, paraphrasing Jesus' words in his mountaintop sermon on anxiety recorded by Matthew (ch 6). But the way Buechner captures Jesus' words hit me like a crosscurrent. It hit me like a crosscurrent for I was sitting at a coffeeshop, looking out on Greenwood Ave., and thinking this all looks nice. This life is nice. Is not life more than what you think it is? More than what it appears or seems to be? Apparently, Jesus in asking this question, assumes an answer. We might even say he is wrapping a statement in the garb of a question. There is more to life than what we often think there is. And if that is true, what is that "more"?

In his sermon, Jesus preaches on the angular, sharp, dread-inducing "life" of anxiety. We have too many things we might worry about: clothing and food for start. Yet, Jesus asks rhetorically, is not life more than what you think it is, even these basic necessities? That "more" of which we seek, is another world. A kingdom if you like. A kingdom with a King who serves his subjects, even to the point that his scrubbing away of their grime leaves his hands raw and bleeding, bloody sweat dripping from his face because of the exertion, and the evidence of it seen on his feet. This kingdom has a King who calls a spade, a spade. And with everything else that he names, he is not simply stating what it is; his very words state that it is. Brother. Sister. Child of God. Forgiven. This kingdom and its King brings with it that elusive thing we name "justice" though it cannot be found in our world. We only see fragments of it, hear whispers of it echoing from our halls of legislation and the courtroom. Yet this King executes justice, not according to an ever-lengthening law code written by the legislature, but he executes justice for he is Truth.

And it is this kingdom with her King that is the "more." For this King says to dry bones, Live. And to the thirsty who have no money to purchase water to slake their thirst, Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. And to the dying, Today you will be with me...in paradise.

Is not life more than what you think it is?

– Matthew

Returning from the East

For we...have come to worship him.
Matthew 2:2

Happy Epiphany.

It was only several years ago that I began to reckon with the significance of the Magi and why it is we read their account during Epiphany. The season of Epiphany is all about appearances and the appearance of one in particular: Jesus born of Mary. In some ways those who encounter Jesus when he is full grown, those encounters make sense to me. He has engaged in his public ministry. He knows the Jewish Torah, the words of the Prophets, and the Writings, most prominently the Psalms, which are the prayers of God's people. He met with those who were ostracized; he healed infirmities; he taught the Scriptures as one with authority; he confronted the Establishment. The appearance of Jesus in these situations, and those who seek him out, makes sense for it is clear that he has much to offer them.

But the Magi. They are aged men from the East, sages of great tradition. And they seek a young child.(?) What can this child offer them? That may be the question on our lips, or if we may be less courageous, it is at least voiced in our heart. (What value does this youngster have for me? What can his little tyke do for me?) And therein lies precisely the wrong question, which comes from a self-oriented heart. It is not what Jesus offers the Magi, but what they might offer to this one who has appeared. ("What can I give him? Poor as I am; If I were a shepherd, I would give a lamb. If I were a wise man, I would do my part. But what I can I give him? Give him my heart.") In the acts of the Magi–"we have come to worship him"–they begin the great Return to God, coming back from the East.

In the book of Genesis, East is often tied to fleeing, or being removed from, the presence of God. Adam and Eve were banished from the garden and sent East. Cain, after shedding the blood of his brother Abel, is cursed from the land and sent East. Those involved in the construction of the Tower in Babel headed East to build their ziggurat. Lot chooses the land to the East. You get the picture. But the Magi, those from the East, make the great Return to worship the one true God.

And the reason why Epiphany is to be celebrated, is this: the journey the Magi make to worship the king, and the journey that the world is exhorted to make to worship the one true king, is only possible for the king has come. As we begin our journey through Epiphany and this new year of 2022, may the eyes of your heart not be focused on "what has God done for me lately." But may your life be one of a living sacrifice in worship to God. For those who were once held captive, he has set free.

– Matthew

Even in Waiting, Goodness.

Our eyes look to the Lord our God, till he has mercy upon us.
Psalm 123

It was sometime in early March 2016 when I first saw it. I was at the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, Russian staring at Rembrandt's The Return of the Prodigal Son. I had not known the Hermitage existed nor that it housed so much art, let alone this piece. Nor was I prepared for how moved I would become at all that seemed to be going on in that still painting. I sat there for how long I do not know, but it was a while. And I needed to do just that. Sit. Gaze. Wait. As I waited, as I continued to look upon the son embraced by the father, I saw more and more. Had I simply glanced at Rembrandt's work and kept up with the foot traffic, it would not have affected me so and I would be the poorer for it. Patience, a fruit of the Spirit.

The fourth Song of Ascent speaks of the long, patient, and expectant gaze that marks the people of God. Our eyes are not trained in any random direction, but they are (to be) trained on the Lord, looking to him. As we look toward him, and wait for him to bring his mercy and grace, it is not as if time is halted or muted. He may still be at work in our lives just as the still movement of The Prodigal Son was at work in me, though nothing appeared to be happening on the surface. At times, the work that happens during periods of waiting is work that takes place deeper down, down in the recesses of the soul. Resilience is honed. Perseverance is lengthened. Stillness is nurtured. Hope burns hotter.

As we are a people who wait for the Lord with our eyes looking to him, let us not despise the time in between. But know that even in the gazing, he is at work.

– Matthew+

Trauma, Mended

Trauma, mended.
Makoto Fujimura

For reasons unknown to me, I have recently been drawn back into the work of Makoto Fujimura. If that name is not known to you, you may recognize his artwork from our Holy Gospels, from which we proclaim and receive the goodness of God weekly as we gather in worship of him. In one talk that Fujimura gave, he spoke about the Japanese art of kintsugi. This is the art of mending ancient, broken tea bowls by using gold. The end result is that "the object that is mended [is] more valuable than before." Two things impress themselves on me about this form of art and how it is a reverberation of the Gospel.

The bowls, though broken, are of great value. The fact that these bowls have experienced some form of trauma, whether intentional due to someone's rage, or accidental, does not degrade the value and worth of the bowl itself. It is of great value. It is worth keeping. It is worth the time and care taken to restore it. And once this restoration, this mending, is complete, the final work is of greater beauty than before. I think this is because the bowl is a microcosm of redemption. And Redemption may be the most beautiful act of all.

The other impression made upon me is the material used to mend the broken: gold. One does not use a cheap material, nor one that perhaps is expensive yet dull. Rather the artist uses a costly material–gold–which is also a material that conveys beauty and extravagance. Why this strikes me so is because it is a reverberation, a reflection–or to use some biblical language, a participation–of the blood of Jesus. His blood is both costly and beautiful: costly, because to be applied to the broken, it must be shed; beautiful, for from it (and only his blood) is redemption accomplished.

So as you reflect on your own life, know that you are a beautiful work of God's artistic design: trauma, mended.

– Matthew+

Waiting: An Act of Love

Surely I am coming soon.
Revelation 22:20

These are some of the last words written down in our Holy Scriptures. They are a fitting way for us to enter into Advent, as Advent is a season of waiting and expectation. And we only wait for the things yet to be realized, things for which we long. As our spiritual mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers before us, we continue this tradition for it is the way of the people of God. We wait, but not without hope. Surely I am coming soon.

We may desire the Lord to speed up his watch, or to count time as we do. If he would do so, then "soon" would mean exactly that, soon. He would not have waited this long. (But if he had not waited this long, where would you and I be? Would we even be here?)

Waiting can be such a trying activity, at least for many Westerners. (Our brothers and sisters in other parts of the world know what it is to wait, to be patient, even in the midst of trying, even dangerous, times.) Why we wait is just as important as that we wait. For an honest waiting is a confession of faith. (Who waits for that which they know will never come to fruition?) But why we wait says a great deal about us. It may certainly be–it should be part of the package–that we wait for Jesus because he is "our only hope in life and death." It should be that we wait for him for he instructed us to do so. But our life with Jesus–his Father, and the Spirit as well–is not one that is merely perfunctory.

So as we enter into this Advent season in a few short days, let our waiting be this: may it be our act of love for Jesus. We wait because we love.

– Matthew+

Delighting in God’s Gracious Way

If then God gave the same gift to them as he gave to us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could stand in God’s way?
Acts 11:17

One of the greatest internal struggles the New Testament Church faced was the inclusion of Gentiles. It was one thing–actually it was a very fitting thing–that Jews found the Messiah. Their ancestors had waited for him, wrote of him, and encouraged Israel to hope for the Lord's Messiah. But it was a wholly other thing to concede, let along embrace, that Gentiles were also among God's people, through faith. Paul sums this nicely in Galatians: "For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus."

Peter was placed in the challenging position of speaking truth to the leaders in Jerusalem. Once he broke bread with Cornelius the centurion, he was criticized for how he could have such intimacy with Gentiles. His response was not a long attempt at self-justification. He did not present ad hominem arguments. His response was simple and true: "If then God gave the same gift to them as he gave to us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could stand in God’s way?” Who indeed? Peter rightly recognized that, as hard as it was for him and those in Jerusalem to come to grips with what God was doing, the fact that He gave his Spirit to the Gentiles says enough. And to attempt to talk around that action would be to "stand in God's way." (No mortal should attempt this.)

As is often the case with Scripture, though it speaks of situations in generations past, it still speaks to us because we all as humans share the same heart. And because the same Spirit who authored those Scriptures dwells with the people of God. Though it may no longer be the inclusion of Gentiles that troubles us–if it were, we would all most likely have some serious problems. But we all have our list of people who certainly cannot be among God's people. Who is on that list for you? Is it Republicans or Democrats? Is it those who stand by and march for Black Lives Matter? Is it those who are strong advocates for the second amendment? Is it those who identify as LGBTQ+? And yet, if God's grace can extend to you, why not "those others" also? If then God gave the same gift to them as he gave to us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who are we that we could stand in God’s way?

– Matthew+

The Seesawing of Anxiety & Faith

Consider the ravens; Consider the lilies.
Luke 12

Jesus uses the birds of the air–ravens–and the flowers of the field–lilies–as an object lesson. He often does this and, if we have eyes to see and ears to hear, we are to pick up on the reality that he is showing us that the world he created communicates much more about him than we might think at first glance. (But that is a topic for another time.) The lesson Jesus teaches his followers is simply this: do not be anxious. Rather than our anxiety running the show, we are to be people of faith who seek after the Father's kingdom, for he will provide what we need.

I find an anxious spirit to be the schoolyard bully to the calm daughter of faith. They are like two children on a playground seesaw. At times we are caught in the middle of their back-and-forth. The allure of being anxious about a great many things seems to convey the sense of: I'm doing a lot; I'm accomplishing a lot, because I move from thing to thing to thing. Increased pace equates to increased effectiveness, right?

But faith, places her gentle hand on the shoulder and says: trust Him. The frenetic pace of anxiety is like the aggressive growth of thorns and thistles. They grow quickly yet they wreak havoc. The pace of faith is a slow(er) one, yet it produces rich and delicious fruit, an offering to God.

When the schoolyard bully of anxiety grabs you by the hair, when the thorns and thistles that are the cares of this world begin to choke your life, respond with a simple prayer: "I am yours; save me." (Ps 119:94) Though they are simple words, they convey the heart of faith, faith in your heavenly Father.

– Matthew+