Love Overcomes Daily Devotion 2/11/16

Words of Love

“Even now,” declares the Lord, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning.” Joel 2:12 NIV

Overcoming the Barrier

Joel was one of the 12 Minor Prophets, not that he was under 21, but that his body of work was brief. He prophesied to Judah, the Southern Kingdom of Israel, most likely after the exile while the people were struggling with their identity and their strained relationship with God. In the first chapter he speaks of the utter destruction resulting from a nasty swarm of locusts and a grinding drought. But with today’s verse from chapter two a glimmer of grace pierces the darkness of disappointment and despair. One of the keys to pointing their broken hearts back to God is fasting. But why, why fast? The idea of fasting, which usually implies the self-denial of food, may have started in Leviticus when people were told to deny themselves on the Day of Atonement. Later in the Old Testament we begin to find passages that speak of fasting, usually in connection with repentance for disobedience.

But the question remains, why? Life involves a number of cycles or rhythms that shape our days and direct our paths. Sleeping, working, playing, resting, and eating are common rhythms that move us through our lives. When one of these rhythms is interrupted, it has the potential to impact the others. Anyone who has endured sleepless nights only to have to keep up their regular schedule will shout, Amen! Eating is a powerful rhythm that, when interrupted by sickness or the latest diet, causes collateral damage to the other life rhythms. More to the point, interrupting our rhythm of eating can impact destructive rhythms such as cycles of anger, despair, or addiction by alerting our conscience to a painful rhythm we have learned to ignore. Fasting shakes our inner foundations and can dislodge barriers that may be blocking our path to wholeness. It’s interesting to note that 16 verses later Joel speaks for the Lord and says, “And afterward, I will pour out my Spirit on all people…” Peter quoted this on the day of Pentecost to describe the coming Kingdom. (see Acts 2:17) When the barriers are brought down we make a path for God’s Spirit to roam in our spirit running out the locusts that ravage our souls and ushering in transformation.

What about you and me? While biblical fasting usually implies food, perhaps there is another life rhythm that could be interrupted to bring clarity and allowing God to run off some locusts and pour out some Living Water. Could we dare fast from technology? Is there some black hole that is swallowing up precious time that could be given up? Should we consider an anger fast? Mike Slaughter of Ginghamsburg UMC suggests a 40-day fast from being jerk. How would that impact the way we think and talk about others? What if everyone committed to that? One thing’s for sure, we would have to suspend the presidential campaigns for Lent.

Prayer

Come Holy Spirit; alert me to things I have grown used to that are conspiring to block your live-giving breath. Shake my foundations so that barriers will fall and love with flow. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Love Overcomes - Daily Devotion 2/10/16

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Lent begins today and so does our daily devotional journey. My plan is for each daily devotion to encourage deeper exploration of the topic in the preceding Sunday’s sermon. However, this doesn’t mean that if you missed the sermon or aren’t a part of our worshiping community you can’t participate. While the devotions will have a connection to the sermon material, they will stand on their own merit. That said, you can go to concordumc.com and click resources to watch the sermon if would like. My prayer is that God will use these brief daily reflections as a way to connect us to Jesus’ journey to the cross and deepen our relationship with him and more fully experience the depths of his love and the power Love has to overcome the barriers in all of us that can block the fullness of God’s love. Now, onto today’s devotion.

Love Speaks

By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.” Genesis 3:19 NIV

Overcoming the Barrier

Today is Ash Wednesday, which is observed as the beginning of the season of Lent in Christian churches of various creeds and denominations around the world. In most churches ashes will be applied in the sign of the cross on worshipers’ foreheads. The idea of applying ashes as a sign of grief and repentance dates back to the Old Testament when the Hebrew people would wear uncomfortable sackcloth garments and place ashes on their heads as a sign of their inner discomfort produced by their disobedience. For Christians, the 40-day (excluding Sundays) period known as Lent began in the 4^th Century as a time of fasting and prayer. The application of ashes became common by the 10^th Century. Today, the tradition continues as fronds the kids waved during the previous year’s Palm Sunday observance are burned to produce the ashes for Ash Wednesday.

Whether we heap ashes on our heads or a pastor artfully draws a cross on our forehead, the idea is the same. The ashes create the outward sign of an inward struggle, a barrier to the deeper life to which God calls each of us which can only be overcome by the power of love. Not all of us will wear the mark of the cross from an Ash Wednesday service, today, but we all bear the mark of sin and are faced with barriers to the fullness of life God intends. Perhaps today is the day to take an honest look at the outer markings of our lives such as anxiety, insecurity, or the need to sooth an inner pain with material things. These and other surface symptoms may be manifestations of deeper damage that needs the tender touch of Jesus’ healing love. Just as the passage above may not sound like our idea of love, healing love may be as uncomfortable as sackcloth at first. But, as the barriers fall, Jesus’ love can comfort us like that favorite fleece jacket, warm, soft, familiar.

 which God calls each of us which can only be overcome by the power of love. Not all of us will wear the mark of the cross from an Ash Wednesday service, today, but we all bear the mark of sin and are faced with barriers to the fullness of life God intends. Perhaps today is the day to take an honest look at the outer markings of our lives such as anxiety, insecurity, or the need to soothe an inner pain with material things. These and other surface symptoms may be manifestations of deeper damage that needs the tender touch of Jesus' healing love. Just as the passage above may not sound like our idea of love, healing may be as uncomfortable as sackcloth at first. But, as the barriers fall, Jesus' love can comfort us like that favorite fleece jacket, warm, soft, familiar. 

Prayer

God of love, please give me the courage to take a hard look at the things I've become used to and surround myself with that are hiding barriers to a deeper life with you. In Jesus' name, amen. 

 

Coming Into Focus

I got new glasses yesterday and I love them/hate them. It’s only been a year since my prescription was updated, but the difference is profound. I had forgotten what it was like to see things clearly. I’d also forgotten what it was like go around feeling like you’re in a gigantic video game with bad graphics, thus the love/hate relationship. I have progressive lenses and they are wonderful, though the adjustment is tricky. When I first got them a few years back Lynn called me bobble-head because I was constantly moving my head up and down trying to find the correct focal point for various distances. The first prescription update wasn’t bad and I hardly noticed any change. But due to a couple of issues and a couple of birthdays the new prescription was a lot more powerful and these new glasses are rocking my world—literally. But, I can read interstate signs, again, and I can clearly read the down and distance graphics when I watch football on TV.  You don’t realize what you’re not seeing until everything suddenly come into focus.

As we reflect on the 14^th anniversary of the terrorist attack on America I’m thinking about the first Sunday after September 11^th. At that time we were only doing one contemporary service at 8:45 am in the gym, which seated around 275, though we had crammed in 300 folks a few times. There were 418 people in the 8:45 contemporary service that Sunday after 9/11. Folks were standing around the walls with others sitting on the floor. People wept openly as we displayed pictures of the tragedy on the screens and read verses from the Psalms and prayed for the families of those lost and for vision for our country as we sought a response to the violence. Likewise, churches across Knoxville and across the country were filled beyond capacity as folks feeling overwhelmed with helplessness wandered in for comfort and reassurance. It was encouraging and interesting to watch as un-churched, de-churched, and barely-churched folks had a moment where their need for something/Someone beyond themselves came into focus. While we expected higher-than-average attendance, we didn’t expect the scope of the response.

Then, when Sunday came, again, most of those visitors didn’t. Sadly, that was expected. The need for spiritual focus began to subside as the intensity of the anger and sadness prompted by the attacks eased. Moreover, the numbing replay of the attacks on the 24-hour news networks and the reality that there were people who hated Americans enough to commit such atrocities created a hardening of the heart in many folks. Life began to settle into a new normal and the awareness of a need for something transcendent blurred into the mundane patterns of daily living. I wonder about those folks, sometimes. Their need for God had been brought in to focus by a dramatic chain of events. I hope they found what their newly sharpened vision had allowed them to glimpse and they’re in church, somewhere.

While we are limited as to the influence we have with folks who aren’t in our church—beyond inviting them and being a good witness in the community, there is much we can do to help folks in our church avoid the spiritual blurring that daily living can induce. That’s why we are placing a renewed emphasis on discipleship though small group participation for fellowship and spiritual growth, mission, giving, and worship attendance. In much the same way that physical exercise allows us to enjoy more robust health and participate in life more fully, spiritual exercise, if you will, allows us to have a more robust relationship with God and more fully participate in his life in and among us. Plus, with a strong spiritual self we are prepared for whatever life brings. Then, when those difficult days come and our world is rocking on it’s axis, we don’t have to go wandering and wondering if there is a God who cares. We will know the assurance of his presence even before the first wave of trouble comes our way.

Not many of us can stop a terrorist attack. Each one of us can be ready for whatever may attack our sense of peace in a world that grows more difficult understand with each news cycle. Reach for God every day, in a prayer, in a devotion, in a song, or any other activity that helps us be mindful of his abiding presence. Don’t just come to church, BE the church. Grow, serve, give. Then, we’ll be ready to take on whatever comes and, just as important, we’ll be ready to reach out to someone else who may not yet know God but who knows you. Perhaps you can lead them through the transition from blurry to clarity and be there for that moment of amazing grace when God starts coming into focus.

God bless you and God bless America,

Larry

Laser-like Anger

I received a text from Lauren (our older daughter) in Chattanooga yesterday to say that there was an active shooter somewhere but they were all safe. She was locked in her office, Ambrose was in lock down at his preschool, and Brian was working in Dalton, Georgia. I immediately went to my news sources for all the information I could find. As the tragic events unfolded my immediate reaction was one of thanksgiving to know that these people that I love so desperately were okay. Then, upon learning that four Marines had been killed and at least one policeman had been injured I was overwhelmed with sorrow for their families who were receiving news that the people they loved so desperately were not okay.

As my heart oscillated between the warmth of thankfulness and the ache of sorrow I read for the first time the name of the suspected gunman: Muhammad Youssef Abdulazeez. Then, I learned he was a Muslim and my heart shifted dramatically from thankfulness and sorrow to full-on rage. My unchecked imagination started an anger-fueled game of connect the dots, any dots, make them up, if necessary, but connect the dots that reveal the image of another one of "those people." As the full weight of what happened in Chattanooga yesterday bore down, the thankfulness for the safety of my kin grew more profound. Similarly, my sorrow for those whose lives were tragically and irrevocably redirected deepened. And…here’s where my typing slows down…my anger toward this person (at this point it was still “these people’) responsible for this nightmare burned with a searing glow.

May I please be honest? I feel like a leaf in a whirlwind of emotion with no sense of where I’ll come out. I’m struggling to reconcile all of these responses with Jesus who is Lord of all of life and, I sense, is patiently waiting for me to land somewhere. I’m confident he is thankful for lives that were spared. No doubt he weeps with the families who are beginning to wrap their heads and hearts around their loss.

But what about the anger? Jesus got angry, right? Sure he did. In Matthew 23 he called the Jewish leaders names and shamed them for corrupting the Law of Moses. In John 2 he got boiling mad at those Jews who were co-opting the temple for their own purposes and ran them off. Yes indeed, he was furious with those Jews. Except…wait…he was a…Jew. The unavoidable reality is that he loved the Jewish people. In Luke 19 he cried over Jerusalem because he wanted the best for them. Yet, he did get angry with certain Jewish individuals who were acting out of their own blurred vision of their faith and harming innocent people in the process. Yes, Jesus had moments of intense anger, but it was always directed toward specific people who were mistreating people simply because they wanted their way, which, of course, was not His way.

At this point I now sense the place where Jesus is pointing for me to land. It’s a place where anger is specified and justified, a place where anger can at least be safely parked and diffused or at best be redeemed through reflection and action. Though I have a tendency to not think or speak badly about the dead, I am now reconciled with my anger at Muhammad Youssef Abdulazeez, and that’s important. Because we know who killed those Marines, even if we don’t yet know exactly why, I can direct my anger toward the person responsible and away from people with similar names, religious affiliations, and physical appearances who aren’t. Muslims didn’t kill those Marines. A 24-year-old man, perhaps with a blurred vision of his faith, killed them. I’m angry with him and any others who may have contributed to his radicalization, if that turns out to be the case. And as I sort through thankfulness for the safety of my family and sorrow for the families who grieve, I will work on sorrow for the family of Muhammad Youssef Abdulazeez who seem to be as shocked by what happened as everyone else. By directing my anger toward a specific person who bears culpability I direct it away from a group of people who don’t. And while I can’t do anything to undo the tragedy that has taken place, I can do something about tragically hating someone because of my implied guilt due to tangential association.

That’s where I’ve landed and it was a bumpy landing. Frankly, I’m still sort of twitching in the breeze, waiting to see if it’s anywhere near where Jesus was pointing. I hope so. I don’t want him to be angry with me. Again.

Prayers for Chattanooga. Prayers for grieving families. Prayers of thanksgiving that it wasn't worse. Prayers for laser-like anger that can be redemptive in the the hands of our Savior who understands how we feel and not a random spray of anger that wipes out groups of people who are likely just as angry.  

Blessings,

Larry

Lost Voices Seek Keen/Kingdom Ears

I lost my voice two Sundays ago right in the middle of the 8:45 sermon in our contemporary worship service. My throat had been getting raw and weak since the Thursday before, but it didn’t completely go until midway through the first sermon of the day. (I have looked back to see what I might have been saying in case God was intervening to prevent me from propagating heresy or just being plain silly.) I finally went to my doc who pumped me up with steroids and antibiotics. So far, there hasn’t been much relief. I whispered my sermons this past Sunday as well and I can’t speak so far this week at camp where I'm one of the Ministers-In Residence—maybe a break for the campers. The coolest thing about the whole experience is what happened when I tried to keep preaching. Everyone in the worship center got particularly quiet and still and seemed to lean in to what I was saying, as if they actually wanted to hear it. It was a beautiful act of grace that touched me deeply. Thank you my wonderful friends for your kindness.

But this has caused me to think about others in our churches (not necessarily CUMC but…) who have lost their voices, too. I think of persons of certain nationalities and ethnic groups who are still told they have no voice by some churches. I think of divorced persons who have been told, wrongly, in my opinion, that they have no voice in church because a relationship spiraled out of control. I think of persons who have made mistakes that they would like to move beyond who have lost their voices because of accusing stares and murmured criticism. I think of persons who because of human sexuality issues feel they have no voice in church. And before anyone gets their blood pressure up over this hot-button issue please understand that I’m not talking about theological debates. I am talking about basic hospitality in the name of Jesus who loves everyone and like the Good Shepherd He is listens carefully for the voices of all his sheep when we call. There are families trapped in poverty who often feel they have no voice because they don’t seem to fit in with others in the church. The list could go on and on.

As we continue with our current sermon series, Tales of the Early Church, we will encounter a recurring narrative of Jesus listening for those whose voices could have been lost. There’s Saul, a persecuting Pharisee who becomes an evangelist and church planter named Paul. How about Peter’s dream where he learns that there is nothing—read no one—that is unclean and without a voice. This opened the mission to the Gentiles who had no voice in Judaism. That would be you and me. Or the Ethiopian Eunuch who was disqualified for a number of reasons but whose voice was heard by Philip and was baptized after a Bible study.

We are part of what I think is an exceptionally accepting church, for the most part. But, we’re not perfect. However, Jesus is, and his perfect love flowing through us can help us to be quiet and still and lean in toward persons who may feel they have lost their voice. It’s a beautiful act of grace that can transform lives. And that, my friends, is why there’s a cross on our church. May we listen carefully for the faintest voices and give them a place to resonate with the love of Christ. Now, where’s that warm salt water?