Monthly Archives: February 2020

Monday Matters (February 24, 2020)

February 24, 2020

Psalm 51

1     Have mercy on me, O God, according to your
loving-kindness; *
in your great compassion blot out my offenses.

2     Wash me through and through from my wickedness *
and cleanse me from my sin.

2     For I know my transgressions, *
and my sin is ever before me.

4     Against you only have I sinned *
and done what is evil in your sight.

5     And so you are justified when you speak *
and upright in your judgment

6     Indeed, I have been wicked from my birth, *
a sinner from my mother’s womb.

7     For behold, you look for truth deep within me, *
and will make me understand wisdom secretly.

8     Purge me from my sin, and I shall be pure; *
wash me, and I shall be clean indeed.

9     Make me hear of joy and gladness, *
that the body you have broken may rejoice.

10     Hide your face from my sins *
and blot out all my iniquities.

11     Create in me a clean heart, O God, *
and renew a right spirit within me.

12     Cast me not away from your presence *
and take not your holy Spirit from me.

13     Give me the joy of your saving help again *
and sustain me with your bountiful Spirit.

Lent: A matter of the heart

Lent is upon us. How did that happen? Okay, I may be a church geek, but I spent time over the past few days looking at the liturgy for Ash Wednesday, getting ready for the 40 days. Have a look (p. 264 in the Book of Common Prayer). There’s a lot in there to serve as guide for the upcoming season, and for all of life.

There’s an opening invitation to Lent which helps us think about what we might think about for the next 40 days: self-examination, repentance, prayer, fasting, scripture engagement. There are scriptures that describe the kind of religious observance God seems to find interesting. (Hint: It has a lot to do with helping those in need.) And there’s the challenge put forth by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount. He said: Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. Lent asks us to think about what we treasure, where we give our heart, mindful of the desert father who said: Do not give your heart to that which does not satisfy your heart.

No doubt, there’s a complexity to the season. It’s a lot more than simply an effort to be more miserable than thou. It does indeed call us to repentance, to acknowledge ways we’ve messed up. We are all familiar with these. At the same time, the season celebrates new life. The word Lent I’m told has some kind of connection to an ancient word for Spring. It’s a season for spiritual growth. It’s a season not only of challenge but formation. So in the course of the Ash Wednesday liturgy, after ashes have been administered, the congregation turns to Psalm 51, a psalm which captures the many dimensions of the season of Lent. (see above) Here’s what struck me about that psalm over the past few days.

It has everything to do with the heart. The psalmist recognizes the way he has messed up. Tradition has it that the psalm reflects the regret of David in the wake of his murderous, adulterous, duplicitous interactions. Some hero of the faith! The psalmist understands that God knows all about that. On some level, the psalmist believes that God’s grace is sufficient to rise above all that.

The psalmist asks: Create in me a clean heart and renew a right spirit within me. It’s a reminder, as springtime approaches, of one of the reasons for the season: new life. Wherever we’ve been, whatever we’ve done, whatever secrets we harbor, whatever shame we harbor, needless pain we bear, peace we often forfeit can be brought to this season. It’s a chance for a new start.

The biblical record indicates that it’s never too late to begin again. Abraham and Sarah, who practiced their own deceptions, didn’t start a family until they were in their 90’s. Jacob, chief biblical creep who swindled his brother and tricked his blind father, became father of the twelve tribes of Israel. Moses became a leader after 40 years in exile, prompted by his own murder of an Egyptian. And then there’s David, who despite the mess he’d made, was regarded as the greatest king of Israel.

As Lent begins, do a spiritual check-up on your heart. How is it doing? Where are you giving your heart? Do you need to begin again? That’s God’s work, thank God. And because it’s God’s work, that new heart is always a possibility. Always. Let that new heart, that new start be your prayer for this holy season. And take to heart the final words of the psalm, that at the end of it all, there is the promise of joy, the product of God’s bountiful spirit.

-Jay Sidebotham

RenewalWorks for Me is a wonderful resource for a spiritual check-up and guided practices to deepen your faith. Try it as your Lenten practice!

RenewalWorks For Me is a personal guide for the spiritual journey, providing coaching to help individuals grow. It begins with a brief online survey which assesses where you are in your spiritual life. We call it the Spiritual Life Inventory.

Once your responses have been processed, we’ll email a helpful explanation of our findings, along with some tips for improving your spiritual journey. You’ll also be given a chance to sign up for an eight-week series of emails that will offer some suggestions, coaching for how you can grow spiritually, and ways you can go deeper in love of God and neighbor. Learn more at renewalworks.org

Monday Matters (February 17, 2020)

February 17, 2020

Some wisdom from Abraham Lincoln:

I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had no where else to go. My own wisdom and that of all about me seemed insufficient for that day.

America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves.

My concern is not whether God is on our side, my greatest concern is to be on God’s side, for God is always right.

Whenever I hear anyone arguing for slavery, I feel a strong impulse to see it tried on him personally.

There are no bad pictures, that just how your face looks sometimes.

I don’t like that man. I must get to know him better.

I can see how it might be possible for a man to look down upon the earth and be an atheist, but I cannot conceive how a man could look up into the heavens and say there is no God.

No man is poor who has a Godly mother.

I laugh because I must not cry, that is all, that is all.

What would Abraham Lincoln tweet?

We lived in Washington, DC, for a few years when our children were young. During that time, I discovered the Lincoln Memorial, which I came to regard as a thin place (i.e., distance between heaven and earth is thin), a holy place. I wanted to share it with my kids, so I took my young son there. We had to park far away. I had to carry him part of the way. Lots of steps. When we got to the top of the stairs, let’s just say he was not particularly impressed.

He was not quite old enough to take in what moved me so deeply. Not only the history of those steps. In the walls of the memorial are etched the words of Lincoln’s second inaugural address, a succinct speech offered in the middle of the war between the states. The speech reveals a person of faith, a person who knew his Bible, a humble leader, a man of prayer trying to figure out what faith meant in a time of division, when religion was used to justify diametrically opposed points of view. Sound familiar?

On this President’s Day, I invite you to spend a few minutes with this remarkable address. Google the whole thing. And since I have the microphone, let me share a few choice passages:

Neither party expected for the war the magnitude or the duration which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with or even before the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other…The prayers of both could not be answered. That of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes.

Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman’s two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said “the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.”

With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nation.

I wonder what Abraham Lincoln would have to say today? This Monday, imagine our world, our nation, our election process, our workplaces, our homes, our schools, our churches, our hearts as places bearing malice toward none and charity for all. Imagine public discourse that reflects this spirit. We can dream, can’t we? After all, others have dreamed on those Lincoln Memorial steps.

We may feel we have no impact on divisions brought by politicians or pundits or preachers. At times, all I feel we can do is offer the Serenity Prayer, and change what we can for a more perfect union, reflecting our better angels. And we can begin with our own hearts, and with those who cross our paths, and with those we are called to serve. We can ask for the grace to interact with malice toward none and charity for all, so that brokenness can be healed. That would be a great way to observe this holiday.

-Jay Sidebotham

Resolving to deepen your spiritual life in 2020?

Just as I am, without one plea,
But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that thou bids me come to thee,
O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am – though tossed about
With many a conflict, many a doubt,
Fightings and fears within, without,
O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am – poor, wretched, blind;
Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
Yea, all I need in Thee to find, O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am – Thou wilt receive,
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
Because Thy promise I believe,
O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am – Thy love unknown
Has broken every barrier down;
Now to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am – of that free love
The breadth, length, depth and height to prove,
Here for a season, then above, O Lamb of God, I come!

What does God want from us, part II?

I want to continue to consider the question posed last week: What does God ask of us?

In recent days, our Prayer Book has led us in daily readings to the book of Genesis and the story of Abraham. He’s one of my favorites, flawed in profound ways, yet compelling because scripture tells us that he heard God’s call and left his comfort zone, not knowing where he was going. Have you ever had that experience?

Among the many stories about Abraham, last week we read the chilling account of God’s request for Abraham to sacrifice his only son, Isaac. We read that story on Good Friday each year. I’m not sure what to make of it. Best spin I can put on it is that it was God’s dramatic way of saying that child sacrifice was not to be practiced anymore. I’ll let more learned folks figure out its meaning.

But last week, as I read that story in Genesis 22, with all its complications, I was struck with the repetition of the phrase: Here I am. The story begins as God calls to Abraham. Abraham says: Here I am. Later on, Isaac, Abraham’s son, addresses his father, asking how this will all work out. Abraham responds: Here I am. At the pivotal moment, God intervenes to stop the sacrifice. Hearing God’s voice, Abraham answers: Here I am.

It’s not the only time in the Bible that the phrase comes up. Samuel gets repeated calls from God, not sure whose voice he’s really hearing. In response, Samuel says: Speak Lord, your servant is listening, a variation on the phrase: Here I am. Isaiah, the prophet is called by God, and says: Here I am, a person of unclean lips. Mary receives perhaps the most significant call in all of scripture. As Gabriel announces the advent of the Christ child, Mary says: Here am I. The servant of the Lord.

So what’s behind that persistent phrase? What does God ask of us? Perhaps all that God wants is for us to say I’m here.

Here I am. It says take me as I am. What you see is what you get. It’s like the old Baptist hymn: Just as I am. Implicit in those three words? The profound theological claim that we don’t have to prove ourselves or earn God’s love or reach a certain level of religiosity or holiness for God to love us and put us to work. Said another way, God meets us where we are.

Here I am. It says I am living in the moment. Have I mentioned that my wife has me doing yoga? The idea of stepping on the mat has come to mean a lot to this person who can obsess about mistakes of the past (mine and others) and can battle anxiety about the future. Recent encounters with mortality make me aware that life is indeed short and we do not have too much time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us. It’s a call to live in the moment.

Here I am. It says I am open to what God is calling me to do. I may, like Abraham, not know what that entails or where it’s headed. I may, like Mary, have no idea how any of this can work. I may, like Isaiah, feel ill equipped. But on some level, it’s about saying yes to God, regardless of where we’ve been or what we’ve done or how adequate we feel.

There’s a lot in those three words.

Which brings me to Moses. He’d been out in the desert for 40 years, watching sheep, a demotion from life as prince of Egypt. Minding his own business, Moses turned aside to check out a bush that seemed to be burning but was not consumed. Weird. Hold on. It gets weirder. God speaks out of that bush. On hearing the voice, Moses says: Here I am. God tells Moses about the job before him: Go face down Pharaoh. Moses then says: Who am I? Who am I to do this job? God’s answer: I will be with you.

As you find a way to say: Here I am, to the Holy One, maybe today or this week, or some time in days ahead, take comfort from the promise that wherever that response leads, you won’t go it alone.

-Jay Sidebotham

Resolving to deepen your spiritual life in 2020?

Monday Matters (February 3, 2020)

February 3, 2020

If I were hungry, I would not tell you, for the world and all that is in it is mine.
Do I eat the flesh of bulls, or drink the blood of goats?
Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving and pay your vows to the Most High.

-Psalm 50:12-14

I will offer to you a thanksgiving sacrifice and call on the name of the Lord.
I will pay my vows to the Lord in the presence of all his people,

-Psalm 116:17-18

Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love, for his wonderful works to humankind.
And let them offer thanksgiving sacrifices, and tell of his deeds with songs of joy.

-Psalm 107:21, 22

We celebrate the memorial of our redemption, O Father, in this sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving. Recalling his death, resurrection and ascension, we offer you these gifts.

-from Eucharistic Prayer A in the Book of Common Prayer

What does God want from us?

That question gets asked in a variety of ways in the Bible, and in life. What does the Lord require of you? (Micah 6:8) What must I do to inherit eternal life? (Matthew 19:16) What must I do to be saved? (Acts 16:30) One friend offered this variation of the question with a bumper sticker on his bulletin board: How much sinning can I do and still go to heaven? One way or another, we all may wonder what’s expected of us.

There are several places in the psalms where it seems that what God wants from us is referred to as a sacrifice of thanksgiving. Check out a few examples included above. I ran across that phrase last week. I’ve been puzzling about those two words put together.

I get the thanksgiving piece. It’s a growth opportunity for me, to deepen in gratitude. I try to be intentional about it, whether it’s giving thanks for 5 things a day or 100. I know that such a frame of mind is a good way to live. I’m working on living into that knowledge. Blessings surround us. When we recognize them as gifts, we are led in healthy pathways.

But in what sense is thanksgiving a sacrifice? What comes to mind when you think of sacrifice? Is it about offering? Is it about suffering or deprivation? Is it putting your agenda on back burner? Is it putting something to death? It can easily shift into teeth-gritting Christianity, that un-attractive way of being that says: “Look, O Lord, at all that I have done for you! Look at how much better I am than the rest of the losers around me! How lucky you are to have me on the team!”

When I think of thanksgiving as sacrifice, I wonder if it’s a matter of surrendering the notion that it’s all up to us. Maybe the sacrifice is a recognition that we are who we are because of grace, lest anyone should boast. Maybe the sacrifice of thanksgiving is giving God praise (a.k.a., credit), letting go of the illusion that we merit the goodness we’ve received, by virtue of our virtue, as if it’s a reflection on our particular magnificence. (Such an attitude is not only unattractive. It also separates us from each other.) My wife and spiritual advisor reminds me that ego is really an acronym: edging God out. When we sacrifice the notion that God owes us something, as tempting as that may be, when we simply give thanks, maybe that’s what God wants from us.

Here’s another way to think about. (In case you haven’t figured it out by now, I haven’t figured this out.) Maybe it’s biblical irony, noting that thanksgiving is anything but sacrifice. That’s just another way of saying that all is grace. Maybe a framework that looks at all of life with thankful heart puts to death the idea of sacrifice. God has no interest in our efforts to be more miserable than thou. Jesus came to break that news to us. God is about bringing things to life, not putting things to death.

One of the places that the language of sacrifice of thanksgiving emerges is in the eucharist, in the prayer we say over bread and wine. When we come to worship, when we come to remember what God has done for us, that is the offering God desires. That memory portion of the eucharistic prayer has a technical, Greek name: anamnesis. Not amnesia. Not forgetting. Maybe all God wants from us is to not forget that we have been blessed and are being blessed and will ultimately be blessed forever and that there will be enough blessings to share them with others.

If we can live with that sense of blessing, offering that sacrifice of thanksgiving, we are free to experience all that God has intended for us from the time of creation when God looked at the creation of humankind and said: This is all very good.

-Jay Sidebotham