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+

Mercy Will Never Run Dry

And finally, never lose hope in the mercy of God.
RB §4 | St. Benedict

Writing in the 6th c, Benedict of Nursia composed a Rule for the monastery he founded. This sort of Rule was not what we moderns might think of as rule(s): a list of things to do and not do. Rather, the Rule of St. Benedict is a guide for communal life of the monastery, with the goal that the monk (and by implication the monastery) would draw nearer to God in all of their life. Every aspect of life was covered in the Rule for our entire lives–all of it–should be lived in glory and devotion to God. Moreover we should submit every aspect of our lives–each one of them–to the Lord for his evaluation, guidance, and shepherding care.

St. Benedict concludes the chapter "Tools for Good Works"–which include love the Lord; the Ten Commandments; love your enemies–with a simple and moving line: "And finally, never lose hope in the mercy of God." In writing it this way, he recognizes the draw, the pull, the temptation, to lose hope. And not hope in general, but something far more damaging and damning: losing hope in the mercy of God. For in losing this hope, the heart calcifies. If God is not merciful we are all damned. And if that were true, then we abandon all hope wherever we may enter. And so we would become hard-hearted, cynical wanderers.

But, as St. Benedict urges, we are to never lose hope in the mercy of God. Sometimes–most times?–easier said than done. What might we do, then, when the drought of despair appears to extinguish life, whether because of events in the world, circumstances in your life, or the stirrings of your heart? Where might we turn when the land appears to have turned to dust; when it seems that all is lost; that the fountainhead of mercy, that it too, has dried up? Tired soul remember the sacrifice of Jesus, the great display of the mercy of God.

And as Christ is alive forever, mercy will never run dry.

– Matthew+

Behold Your King. Humble.

Behold, your king is coming to you, humble.
Matthew 21:5

How do you view your king–Jesus–coming to you on a daily basis? What words would you use to describe his disposition towards you; the look in his eyes; the words which he speaks to you; the use and placement of his hands; his nearness to (or distance kept from) you? Is there a scowl on his face and a huff in his voice because you (think you can only) annoy him? Is his distant from you, out of earshot and intentionally looking the other way, knowing you are there but trying to avoid you?

These, and pictures like them, are not the Jesus we see in the Holy Gospels. Rather we see Jesus, who is "the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation, by whom all things were created, in heaven and on earth"...and for him all things were created (Col 1:15-16), we see this Jesus born from the virgin Mary. We see this Jesus feeding the needing, not just with food and drink, but with his very life. We see this Jesus giving time and place to children, the woman at the well, the ostracized. We see this Jesus ask "do you love me?"

Our world is beautiful for it is fashioned by the hands of God who is beautiful. And our world is worn and tattered, both in its physicality–"all creation groans"–and in the spiritual forces that hold sway. And this weariness can muddle the character and disposition of God. Our adversary would love if we only viewed God as a tyrant. Yet what tyrant offers up his one and only son for his enemies?

Behold your king. Humble.

– Matthew+

Medicine for Spiritual Health

For generations upon generations, the Psalms were the prayers of God's people. They were songs lifted up to God in praise, lamentation, and thanksgiving. Their imagery spoke to the situations of many, directly or indirectly. They conveyed the longing of the human soul and provided language to the sinner and saint that they might pour out their heart to the Lord.

In some corners of the Church catholic, the Psalms have lost their savor. They are barely prayed. They are not seen to provide language for the soul, but they are only objects to be studied. In our Anglican tradition, as with other traditions of the Church, the Psalms are central to our lives. They are prayed each Sunday during our worship, they shape our liturgy, and they are prayed during the daily offices, morning and evening. Praying them daily is like walking the same path in the countryside to the point where the familiarity of the path frees you to fully enjoy all that surrounds you. This may take a while, but it is an exercise, a practice, a rhythm worth developing. For the Psalms are not merely window dressing for the other more "substantial" or "important" aspects of Scripture. They are rich with encountering God. They are saturated with knowledge of the human heart. They are overflowing with the love of God. They proclaim justice to the oppressed. They are a means of pursuing holiness, shaping the one who prays them into the image of God, who is Jesus.

St. Ambrose, a 4th century bishop of Milan says this about the Psalms: "History instructs us, the law teaches us, prophecy foretells, correction punishes, morality persuades; but the book of Psalms goes further than all these. It is medicine for our spiritual health. Whoever reads it will find in it a medicine to cure the wounds caused by one's own particular passions. Whoever studies it deeply will find it a kind of gymnasium open for all souls to use, where the different Psalms are like different exercises set out before one. In that gymnasium, in that stadium of virtue, one can choose the exercises that will train one best to win the victor's crown."

If the Psalms are not yet a daily path for you, if they are not yet a gymnasium which you frequent, start small. Find one or two (or three) and pray them. Let them become a well-worn path. And as all paths lead the traveler somewhere, may these well-worn paths lead you nearer and nearer to your Lord.

– Matthew+

Refuge in the Wings

You have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings
I will sing for joy.
Psalm 63:7

Psalm 63. This is a Psalm of David, a prayer, in which he lifts up his heart to the Lord for he is in the wilderness of Judah. He is in that trackless, deserted, arid, sandy, barren abode of the jackals. Not much life is to be found there, very little water, and even lesser shade. Many assailants are found in the desert and they make themselves known to David in their continuous assault on him.

Now this may surprise the reader: David is not forlorn. He has not abandoned all hope upon entering the desert. This is the case because he has found some shelter, a bit of shade. His help is found in the Lord who has spread wide his wings, sheltering him from the onslaught of the heat and assailants. And if you had been in that desert with David, you would have not only seen David under the wing of the Lord, but you would have heard his songs of joy. For when you abide in the shadow of the wings of the Lord, when you are taken up into his care and provision, when he has drawn near to you, your soul can do nothing but sing.

Where are your places of refuge and rest? When you are weary, weak-kneed, and seeking shelter, what do you find over your head? Are you stumbling in the desert, going at it alone? That is only the way of death. Find your refuge in the Lord, in the shadow of his wings. For they are spread wide that you might find rest for your soul. And in their shadow, you too might rejoice.

– Matthew+

Immense & Immediate Hands

In his hand are the depths of the earth; the heights of the mountains are his also.
The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land.
Psalm 95:4-5

The hands of the Lord are a thing to behold. With them he fashioned the world and the fullness thereof. As a potter fashions clay, the Lord fashioned the world, molding it in accordance with his creative heart and love. As the only infinite being and person, everything finite can be found in his hands. Living in the PNW, we are blessed to see a diversity of his creative work in the mountain ranges that flank us to the East and West. We also enjoy the blessing of the expansive waters of our seas, which invite adventure and contemplation.

In Psalm 95–a well-known Psalm in its own right and one which we pray in the Morning Office–the psalmist summons us to praise the Lord because of his greatness as seen in the world which he created. But not only is this the world which he created, these mountains and seas are found within the folds and crevices of his hand. As we humans cup water or soil in our hand, so the Lord cups the world's oceans and the world's mountain peaks in his. This aspect of his hands conveys his immensity, his transcendence, his power, and his might. And yet this is not the only occurrence of his hands in this Psalm.

Later, in verse 7, we read of another aspect of his hands. The focus is no longer the immensity of God–though that is still present–but it has shifted to his imminent and immediate care for his own: He is our God and we are the people He tends and the flock of His hand.* And it is precisely this contrast that we are to keep in our minds and hearts. The hands in which are found the seas and mountains, are the same hands that care for you as a shepherd tends sheep. The hands that gave you life by forming you in the image of God, are the same hands that were pierced for your transgressions, that you might have true life. The hands that defeated our great enemy are the same hands that welcome you into the kingdom of God, prepared for you from the foundation of the world.

Entrust yourself to those hands; rest in those hands.

– Matthew+

*Translation by Robert Alter

Praying Often

"Pray frequently and effectually; I had rather your prayers should be often than long."
– Jeremy Taylor, 17th c.

Several decades ago I decided that was I really serious about God. I was so serious in fact that I would prove it to him by my stringent devotion to him. I worked this out–or rather attempted to–by arising at 4:30a to pray for at least an hour. And when I say pray, I do not mean that in the Anglican sense (or other Christian traditions) where the entire Morning Office is your prayer. This was "unstructured prayer" and so it was 60+ minutes of me trying to think of things to say to God while not falling asleep. In the end I could not maintain that schedule and I folded. More than that, I was defeated. Had I heard Jeremy Taylor's words then, I may have changed my approach before I started.

We can fall into the trap of thinking there is a direct proportionality to the time I spend in prayer and its "effectiveness." But that is already a misunderstanding of prayer. We do not approach our Father to earn his favor by our words; he is already gracious towards us and delights in us for we are his children. Prayer, rather, is communion with him. It is being in his presence. Sometimes words do this. Sometimes it may be meditation on Scripture. Sometimes it may simply be "Amen." But as we dare not forego breathing too long for in so doing we deprive ourself of the wind of life, so we should not forego prayer for too long. Just as we need not take every breath as deeply as possible–we may end up being a bit light-headed in fact if we attempt that!–so too every prayer need not be as long as possible. To quote Taylor again, "I had rather your prayers should be often than long."

For some, your prayers may be the entire Office (or Offices) with all corresponding readings and several collects, too. If you have that time, pray also for your brothers and sisters who may have less. For others, your time is restricted due to late work shifts, tired children, or other responsibilities. And though you feel the limits of your time, pray often. You need not pray long. But pray often. This may look like praying the Lord's Prayer for Morning and Evening Prayer. It could look like including the Psalm for that Office if you have a few more minutes. It may look like praying the Jesus prayer: "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner."

We must start where we are and certainly hope that growth will happen by the Spirit of God. But we need to start where we are. If you find prayer to be difficult or you find it a challenge to make time for it, let's talk. Let's talk because you have need to breathe by the Spirit of God and to do so often.

– Matthew+

Shaped by Love

"...our identity is shaped by what we ultimately love or what we love as ultimate–what, at the end of the day, gives us a sense of meaning, purpose, understanding, and orientation to our being-in-the-world. What we desire or love ultimately is a (largely implicit) vision of what we hope for, what we think the good life looks like. This vision of the good life shapes all kinds of actions and decision and habits that we undertake, often without our thinking about it...What's at stake is not primarily ideas but love, which functions on a different register. Our ultimate love/desire is shaped by practices, not ideas that are merely communicated to us."

Desiring the Kingdom | James K.A. Smith

And this is why our worship, argues Smith, is so important. Not important in that we only get right ideas into our heads–though that can and should happen. But more rooted, more foundational, more core-centric than that is that our love and heart's desire is shaped by what we do. And on a surface level we know this to be true. As I mentioned in a sermon some weeks back, there is very little in my heart that desires to follow slow speed limits. More than that, it is a nuisance when others drive so slowly. The gas pedal does go further. Really. And regardless of how many laws and rules and statistics I might read, it is all information that is not affecting my heart. But when I am drawn towards first loving my neighbor in all aspects of my life, only then would I first seek their good above my own.Only then might I seek to follow a slow limit. Maybe I would even just call it the "speed limit" and leave off the judgmental adjective "slow."

Our liturgy is shaped and intended to shape and orient our hearts towards God's gracious love of us and his world. Each section or movement of our liturgy is intentional and connected to the others. And they are laid out that our love might be shaped and formed, not just our heads.

Consider the Summary of the Law. When Jesus was asked to sum up the Law he did so by leading with "love the Lord your God"–taken from Deut 6 and the first tablet of the Law. He followed that up with "love your neighbor as yourself"–taken from Lev 19 and the second tablet of the Law. But how do you and I do with that daily, let alone weekly? How can we love God so fully and our neighbors in our own strength? We need the mercy and grace of God to aid us in that work–or better yet, that way of living–which is why the Kyrie is sung next. We ask for God's mercy to aid us in loving rightly. And this is then followed by a hymn where we praise God for who he is and that he guides and leads us in loving him and others.

How does this movement shape our love? We hear of God's righteous and good law for our world and we see that he also provides what is needed that we might live out his instruction. He does not lay a heavy burden on us and is unwilling to do anything about it. Rather we see him doing as St. Augustine prays: "Grant what you command, and command what you desire."

Grace & Peace

Signs and Sounds of Life

Emmanuel Anglican –

You shall teach them [the Torah] diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house,
and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.
– Deuteronomy 6:7

Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.
– Matthew 19:14

Where there is life, there are the signs and sounds of life. And where there is the absence of life, the signs and sounds of life are diminished, if not altogether absent. We all should desire life and its accompanying signs and sounds. Children are signs and sounds of life and are an integral part of the life of a community. They are an integral part of our parish and they are a gift to this parish.

Israel was to involve them in all aspects of their life, teaching them the way of God, his great love for them, and what it meant to walk in the good life, the blessed life of God.

During Jesus' earthly ministry, families brought their children to Jesus that "he might lay his hands on them and pray." But for the disciples, this was a situation unbecoming of their holy teacher. Their response was a sharp rebuke to the families, dismissing them as a distraction and nuisance. In this they failed to see the blessing that children are. They also failed to see that children are our teachers.

The onset of adulthood can bring with it a rigidity in our relationship to God. We often exchange our early love for shriveled duty. But children know differently; they know better. And they teach us this difference, if we but let them come.

They are our teachers. They teach us that we are to approach God out of hearts of love, laughter, joy, and hunger. Our worship is to have in it these signs and sounds of life. They teach us that, though God is indeed holy, he delights in our earthliness for he is the one who pronounced a blessing over all creation with his words: it is good. They teach us that it is the meek, the simple, the hungry to whom belong the kingdom (Lk 19:14).

Their presence is a gift and blessing to our parish with all its accompanying challenges. And those challenges are real. But let us not be like the disciples who found their signs and sounds of life a nuisance. But may we rightly see our children–and others yet to come to Emmanuel–to be the signs and sounds of life. May we desire that life. May we desire to be taught by them that our joy, love, life, hunger, and worship might overflow out of the abundance of our hearts.

Grace & Peace

Casting Out Fear

Fear not, for I have redeemed you...Fear not, for I am with you.
Isaiah 43:1, 5

The theme and idea of fear has been on my mind as of late. It certainly has something to do with the overall effect Covid has had (and continues to have) on the entire world. Fear seems to be more apparent "in the air". And that is understandable as we often fear things that are unknown. And we fear especially those things which are unknown but we see their effects in our daily lives. Fear is fueled by things that are uncertain and fear toys with those uncertainties.

While speaking with a friend earlier this week, I commented on Psalm 23. In that well-known psalm, the Lord prepares a table before his loved one in the presence of enemies. The Lord has not displaced them or removed them with a snap of his fingers (though he could). Rather, he lays out a feast for his loved one and the enemies are kept at bay, because the Lord is present. It is his presence that settles the lambs of the Lord and turns their fear into peace.

The Gospel is the good news, the good announcement, that God has accomplished the redemption of the world in his Son, Jesus the Christ. The Gospel is not merely the report that Jesus is now alive nor is it merely that one does not have to go to hell. Rather, all that God intends for the world is now possible for humanity can now be born from above which is being born again. This is possible because the firstborn of creation has been born. And from this new birth comes a new creation, a redeemed creation. The effects of the Gospel are manifold and are to spill over the banks of the report of the good news itself into all areas of our lives. In other words, we are to drink deeply from the Gospel that it might enliven our entire being; it is not a mere calculus.

The Gospel proclaims that death has died at the hands of Christ. The Gospel proclaims the fractured relationship of humanity (and the world) and God is restored through Christ. The Gospel proclaims that God is with us. The Gospel proclaims "Fear not."

As the Gospel is true and you are loved and cared for by God, whom shall you fear? Through the Gospel, the Lord sets humans free from the fearful constraints of life apart from God, a fear that we see even at the beginning with Adam and Eve hiding in the Garden from the presence of God. But as the Son has set you free, you are free indeed. He has set you free by his perfect love, and perfect love casts out all fear.

Grace & Peace