Now

The psalm you may have heard yesterday in church (above) concludes with this statement about the way God will act. Verse 11 says: You will show me the path of life. In your presence there is fullness of joy.

Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but it strikes me that the psalmist is confident that the way of life will be made clear, but it hasn’t happened yet. The question, then, for people of faith: How do we navigate the present not knowing the future? How do we live in the present with a sense of equanimity and peace?

It’s a question that people of all faiths ask. Thich Nhat Hanh, Buddhist priest spoke about the power of deep breath amidst the changes and chances of life. He said: Breathing in, I calm the mind. Breathing out, I smile. Dwelling in the present moment I know this is the only moment.

Jesus made a similar point in the Sermon on the Mount, citing the wisdom of lilies who do not worry about tomorrow, the wisdom of birds who soar, trusting they’ll be fed. He said: So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6)

A friend who was a philosophy/religion major in college used to end each of his papers with this anagram: SOKOP. Sounds okay on paper. Easier said than done. How do we live life in the present, letting go of resentments about the past, released from fears of the future.

In reflection on this question, I started thinking of biblical stories in which God calls someone and they answer with three words: Here I am. Volumes are spoken in those three words. They suggest self-awareness about the present, even if present circumstances were not always easy.

Moses, stuck in the wilderness for forty years, wonders why his stellar upbringing and gifts for leadership were not being used. But with the burning bush speaking to him, he simply opens himself to God’s presence by saying: Here I am.

God finds Elijah bummed out because the powers that be were out for retribution. While he sits on that pity pot in that cave, the still, small voice of the Lord comes to him and asks: What are you doing here? Another way to ask might be: What are you doing with the present moment? Elijah leaves that cave and goes out to anoint a future king.

Isaiah, when called to prophetic ministry, took his own spiritual inventory at that moment, telling the Holy One that he, the prophet, was a person of unclean lips. I suspect God was not surprised by that news. Despite Isaiah’s inventory of his own life, he makes himself available in that present moment by saying: Here I am.

Mary, a young girl, gets a surprise visit from an angel with a message that will change the course of history. In that moment, she wonders: How can this be? I can imagine it could have been unsettling. Do you think? In the end she says: Here am I, the servant of the Lord, let it be unto me according to your word.

I suspect all you biblical scholars can cite other examples, but you get the idea. We are called to live in the present, ready to say: Here I am, to hear that still, small voice come to us, not drowned out by resentment or regret about the past (I’m working on that one) or fret about the future (a lot of which is out of our control). In the present moment, we take stock of where we are and who we are. That includes expressions of gratitude for blessings surrounding us. The present moment holds no pretense that we have it all together. In the present moment, all we are called to do is open ourselves to God’s grace. Breathing helps.

Find quiet time today (and maybe each day) to take stock of where you are. Give thanks for ways you are blessed. Recognize your special brand of human frailty. Say: Here I am.

-Jay Sidebotham

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RenewalWorks: Helping churches focus on spiritual growth

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In God We Trust

The story is told of Dr. Karl Barth, amazing theologian of the 20th century, who wrote volumes on just about any topic related to faith. He apparently never had an unexpressed written thought, though I wish he was still around so we could get his take on current events.

Once when he was teaching a theology class, a snarky seminarian challenged Dr. Barth to sum up all of his theology, thousands and thousands of pages, in one sentence. The subtext: No way the good doctor could do such a thing. Dr. Barth took up the challenge, and responded with this succinct summation: Jesus loves me. This I know. For the Bible tells me so.

Like many songs we teach our children, there is depth in these ditties. I have in mind this week the song about the whole world in God’s hands. It came to mind as I reflected on Psalm 24, which if your church observed the Feast of All Saints yesterday, you might have heard in worship. It begins by saying: The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it.

In case you didn’t notice, we are on the eve of an election with the potential to affect our common life for many years to come, an election where anxiety is unusually high. I think it’s safe to say that about half the population is not going to be happy on Wednesday (or whenever all votes are counted.) It’s worth thinking about how we, as people of faith, navigate days ahead. It comes down to a matter of trust, confidence that the earth is the Lord’s, that God is watching over us, that God has the whole world in his hands.

A call to trust does not mean passive acceptance of whatever comes our way. It does not mean blinders or muzzles. As Christ’s hands and feet in the world, we will respond to events as they unfold by living into the promises we make in baptism, to proclaim good news in word and action, to seek and serve Christ in all persons, to strive for justice and peace and respect the dignity of every human being. It will take trust to do that.

That may not always be easy. One bit of help comes by looking at others who have figured out trust. There are biblical icons to help. Abraham leaving a country of comfort. He went not knowing where he was going. Peter stepping out of a boat to walk on water. Speaking of saints, we have examples like Desmond Tutu and Nelson Mandela who meet oppression with irrepressible joy that signaled their trust in God’s provision. John Lewis battled for civil rights, joyfully willing to get in good trouble. As I cited last week, Alexei Navalny brought humor to his prison community based on the confidence that Jesus would take care of it. Who else comes to mind for you?

Back in my seminary days, as one day I was wandering through the library stacks, I found a book called “Bird Walk through the Bible.” It made me realize you can write a book about just about anything. It cited all the places where birds are mentioned in scripture. We’re talking owls, sparrows, doves, vultures, ostriches, and eagles, to name a few. No penguins, as far as I can tell. I took it as a challenge to include some citations of this book in the footnotes of every single paper I wrote. No teacher ever commented, which, of course, made me wonder how much was actually read.

I remembered this bit of scholastic mischief in reading what Howard Thurman had to say about trust. He prayed: Teach me, O God, the simple lesson of trust. Bring into my sorely pressed spirit the sure confidence of birds floating in the sky with nothing to support them but the automatic trust of wings.

In the challenges that come our way, as we have no idea what the future holds, may we count on that automatic trust of wings and remember who holds the future. And this week, as we make our way to the polling place, or wait on line, or wait for exit polls or early results, or take in the results, or face any kind of anxiety-producing uncertainty, may we be given grace to let this song go through our heads: He’s got the whole world in his hands.

-Jay Sidebotham

Footnote: If you’re feeling anxious about the upcoming election, I recommend meditation on Psalm 37:1-18.

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RenewalWorks: Helping churches focus on spiritual growth

RenewalWorks is about re-orienting your parish around spiritual growth. And by spiritual growth – we mean growing in love of God and neighbor.

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Alexei Navalny’s Diary

As I read the psalms, I’m not only impressed with how their meaning transcends the centuries. I’m also impressed with how many of the psalms describe people of faith living in crisis, besieged by all kinds of opposing forces. They are not just living. They seem to be thriving.

We get glimpses of that in the psalm heard in church yesterday, printed above. The psalmist speaks of terrors (v.4), of affliction and troubles (v.6). Yet that same author can say taste and see that the Lord is good. (v.8) How is it that people in these situations can affirm God’s goodness and embrace a word of hope? I want to know what they know.

I think of the apostle Paul who wrote a letter to the Philippian church from a first century prison cell. Let your cinematic imagination run wild in thinking about what that prison block looked like, felt like, smelled like. Yet in that letter, the apostle issues a call to rejoice again and again, affirming that he can do all things through the one who strengthens him, claiming that his sole purpose is to know Christ and the power of his resurrection.

More recently, I have in mind the piece I read in the New Yorker last week, excerpts from Alexei Navalny’s prison diary. Woven throughout his reflections there is a spirit of humor and well being, dare I say joy.

In one entry, he responds to questions of how he keeps going, how he avoids hatred and despair. He offers two techniques. The first has to do with wrapping his mind around the worst thing that could happen and figuring that was survivable.

It was the second technique that caught my eye, tugged at my heart, stirred my soul. He said the technique he has in mind is so old “you may roll your eyes heavenward when you hear it. It is religion. It is doable only for believers but does not demand zealous fervent prayer by the prison barracks window three times a day (a very common phenomenon in prisons.)”

He said that “being a believer makes it easier to live your life, and to an even greater extent engage in opposition politics. Faith makes life simpler.” The technique he suggests: “You lie in your bunk looking up at the one above and ask yourself whether you are a Christian in your heart of hearts. It is not essential for you to believe some old guys in the desert once lived to 800 years old, or that the sea was literally parted in front of someone. But are you a disciple of the religion whose founder sacrificed himself for others, paying the price for their sins? Do you believe in the immortality of the soul and the rest of that cool stuff? If you honestly answer yes, what is there left for you to worry about? Why, under your breath would you mumble a hundred times something you read from a hefty tome you keep in your bedside table? Don’t worry about the morrow because the morrow is perfectly capable of taking care of itself.”

He concludes this entry by saying; “My job is to seek the Kingdom of God and His righteousness and leave it to good old Jesus and the rest of his family to deal with everything else. They won’t let me down and will sort out all my headaches. As they say in prison here: they will take my punches for me.”

As I fret about my worries, with a special brand of angst about next week’s election, I think the Holy Spirit sent me this testimony from a remarkable saint. For this edition of Monday Matters, Mr. Navalny has provided most of the content. I hope it stirs your soul as it did mine. I add his voice to the witnesses of folks I’ve met along the way who teach me about coping with affliction and loss, who keep hope alive in those situations. I hope you have run across folks like that. They do the soul good.

May you and I be given the grace this week, in whatever adversity we face, to seek first the Kingdom of God and to leave it to good old Jesus and the rest of his family to deal with everything else.

Rest in peace, Mr. Navalny. May light perpetual shine upon you. Thank you. Thanks be to God.

-Jay Sidebotham

Footnote: If you’re feeling anxious about the upcoming election, I recommend meditation on Psalm 37:1-18.

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RenewalWorks: Helping churches focus on spiritual growth

RenewalWorks is about re-orienting your parish around spiritual growth. And by spiritual growth – we mean growing in love of God and neighbor.

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Temptation

In The Merchant of Venice, Shakespeare notes that even the devil can quote scripture. Perhaps what the bard had in mind was the story of Jesus’ temptation, told in detail in Matthew and Luke’s gospels. In those accounts, there are three temptations. One of those temptations comes as the devil tells Jesus to cast himself down from a high precipice, to trust that God will save him.

To get Jesus to do this, as in the other two temptations, the devil quotes from the Bible, in this case a verse from the psalm printed above, a psalm you may have heard in church yesterday. According to that psalm, God will give angels to protect, no matter what happens. Jesus doesn’t go for it, battling scripture with scripture and saying: Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God.

As a church, as followers of Jesus, we are guided by the canon of scripture. That includes 66 books that the church deemed authoritative. But I suspect we each have a canon within the canon, those scriptures that we turn to because they agree with what we already think, or support us in what we’re doing, or help us argue a case, or get us off the hook. All of that causes me to think about the ways we interpret scripture and our tendency to use it to serve our own purposes.

Years ago, I was working with a young couple in preparation for their marriage. They were lovely, interesting people. Smart as could be. Smarter than this priest. They were not persons of faith. They thought religion made no sense. Especially organized religion. So we had interesting conversations. At the end of our time together, they gave me a gift, a book called THE BIBLE TELLS ME SO: The Uses and Abuses of Scripture.

One gets the point of the book with a look at the Table of Contents. One chapter was about the ways scripture was used to support slavery. The next was about the ways scripture bolstered the case of abolitionists. One chapter spoke about the ways scripture prohibited leadership by women in the church. The next spoke about ways scripture opened the door for that leadership. You get the idea. The upshot: we have to think about the ways we read scripture, and what will be our guiding principles. Scripture has power. Power can be used well or not so well.

In its entirety, the psalm before us this morning is a promise that God will be with us in the challenges we face. It’s a beautiful, reassuring message. The devil picks out a little bit, proof-texting in hopes of trapping Jesus. But as Jesus told the devil in the desert, that doesn’t mean we are free to put God to the test. That’s what I think this particular temptation is all about. The temptation to imagine that we are in a position to say to God: Prove it. The temptation to imagine that God needs to answer to us, to see if God really knows what God is doing. The temptation to think that we are the ones running the show. Human history indicates that we get into trouble when we enter into that mindset.

So let me ask again: What are guiding principles as we read scripture? While I’m excited that the church has selected an amazing person, Sean Rowe, to be our next Presiding Bishop, I will miss Michael Curry. I will always be grateful for his spiritual gifts as communicator, or in church language, as evangelist. I hope he’ll continue to let his voice be heard.

I’ll never stop relying on this quote from him: If it’s not about love, it’s not about God. That succinct bit of wisdom covers about all we need to know. It provides a lens for our reading of scripture, which in its diversity is really a story about God’s love for us, love from which we can never be separated. It’s a story about our call to reflect that love in relationship with all our neighbors.

Think this week about how scripture informs your life of faith, and how you can view its many voices through the lens of love.

–Jay Sidebotham

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RenewalWorks: Helping churches focus on spiritual growth

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Teach us to number our days

The liturgy offered at an Episcopal funeral, the Burial Office, is always marked by grief and loss. There’s always sadness. At the same time, it is one of the most beautiful services we have in the Prayer Book. As the Prayer Book says in an unusual postscript (p. 507), it is an Easter service, marked by joy, holding the hope of resurrection at its center.

In my experience, there are certain hymns that are frequently selected for this service. Occasionally, there are surprising choices. For example, I’ve had families ask to include the Christmas hymn “Joy to the World” in the liturgy, even when the service happened in the middle of summer.

One of the most commonly chosen hymns begins this way: O God our help in ages past. It’s a familiar hymn (#680 in the 1982 Hymnal), taking its cue from Psalm 90. You may have heard a portion of that psalm in church yesterday, printed above. The hymn is appropriate for a funeral because that liturgy calls us to recognize the contingency of our lives. It invites us to recall how we are indeed dependent on God for help.

The portion of Psalm 90 read in church begins this way: Teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts to wisdom. What does that wisdom-generating process of numbering our days look like? In the churches where I’ve served for most of my ministry, I’ve offered this blessing that I suspect you’ve heard, crafted by Swiss poet and philosopher Henri Frederic Amiel (1821-1881). It’s a blessing that wisely asks us to number our days. It goes like this:

Life is short and we do not have too much time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us. So be swift to love, make haste to be kind, and the blessing of God be with you.

In my experience, there are few things I’ve said in church that have resonated so deeply and evoked as great a response. I’ve wondered why that is. The baldness of the beginning (Life is short) is a reality check. With that reality check under our belts, the blessing invites us to best use of our limited time, letting that limited time be marked by lovingkindness.

It’s a bit like John Wesley’s rule of life:

Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.

The psalm tells us that lovingkindness is God’s work, and so it is work we are asked to emulate and imitate in the time we have.

The portion of Psalm 90 read in church ends this way: Prosper the work of our hands. Prosper our handiwork. We might interpret that to ask God to help in the limited time we have to be successful in the work we do, whether we get paid for it or not. We might interpret that to ask God to bless our creative enterprises. All good requests. And maybe it’s a prayer for blessing on our efforts to show lovingkindness, in a world that is increasingly, dangerously mean-spirited. (Have you watched the news lately?)

Take time today to reflect on what it means to number our days. Make each day count. Let each day bring with it the fulfillment of opportunities to show lovingkindness.

–Jay Sidebotham

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RenewalWorks: Helping churches focus on spiritual growth

RenewalWorks is about re-orienting your parish around spiritual growth. And by spiritual growth – we mean growing in love of God and neighbor.

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Integrity

What does it mean to live with integrity? The word “integrity” pops up twice in the psalm printed above, a psalm you may have heard in church yesterday. How do you understand the word? Here’s what I’m thinking: to live with integrity is to live without distraction. It is that virtue that allows us to keep our eyes on the prize, whatever we deem that prize to be. Hopefully, it is some high and holy end. Integrity is the ability to keep the main thing the main thing.

Dictionary definitions describe integrity as a matter of wholeness or completeness. They speak of incorruptibility. They speak of soundness, a solid foundation. Each of those elements can be found in the psalm. Incorruptibility comes with trust in the Lord, without faltering (verse 1). It comes with a refusal to spend time with what is worthless (v. 4). Soundness comes with a firm foundation, feet standing on level ground (v. 22), which goes back to trust. It comes with clear purpose, in the case of this psalm, keeping the love of God before our eyes (v. 3) Completeness comes with a rigorous inventory of one’s own spiritual life, an examination of heart and mind (v. 2). All of it has to do with peeling away distraction. Lord knows, we’ve got all kinds of distractions surrounding us.

For me, integrity is related to sincerity. I’ve heard this about the etymology of sincerity, which some sources dispute. The idea I like (if it’s not true, it ought to be) has to do with wax, with the idea that sincerity comes from two Latin words: sine “without” and cera “wax.” Both suggest ancient Roman craftspersons, marble workers who would cover imperfections in the stone with wax, much as unscrupulous antique dealers might rub wax to hide a scratch in wood. There are also stories that unprincipled bricklayers would use wax instead of cement. When the wax melted, bricks could shift and structures collapse. The claim that something was “sine cera,” without wax, would therefore be significant.

As I reflect on these words, integrity and sincerity, I’m hearing phrases from several collects in the Prayer Book, as well as the Easter canticle “Christ our Passover.” Each end with a call to live our lives with sincerity and truth. I’m hearing the words of the post-communion prayer which calls us to worship with gladness and singleness of heart. I’m thinking of Kierkegaard’s claim that purity of heart is to will one thing. And I hold that in tension with the caution of Bishop Alan Gates (which I cite often as a reflection of my own interior life) who said he never met a motive that wasn’t mixed.

Perhaps the important question is to think about what is that one thing from which we may be distracted. What is that pearl of great price? Again, the psalm suggests that it’s the love of God held always before our eyes.. Our psalm suggests that we stay in touch with that love, we walk in integrity as we worship (v. 6-8), as we recognize that God is the star of the story, not the church, not ourselves, certainly not our political leaders or their agendas.

For those who swim in the Christian stream, that goal is to keep Jesus at the center. As we are surrounded by possibilities for distraction, we gather to hear God’s word and share the bread and wine. On our own, we devote ourselves to spiritual practices. We find ways to do what Jesus did, to serve, all of which helps us keep our eyes on that prize. I’m thinking that’s what it means to live with integrity, and to walk in sincerity and truth.

Maybe more than defining integrity, we might want to think of where we see it at work in the world, or more to the point, who models integrity. There are biblical examples. The word integrity doesn’t show up often in scripture, only once in the New Testament, mostly in the Psalms and Proverbs. It also shows up several times in the book of Job. In the mystery of that book, an exploration of the problem of evil, Job models integrity. As bit by bit, everything is taken away from him, he remains on track, even if he faces life-threatening distraction, even as he gets mad, even as he asks hard questions.

Can you think of more contemporary models of integrity? As I reflected on this virtue, I was mindful of Jimmy Carter’s 100^th birthday last week. He said: I have one life and one chance to make it count for something… My faith demands that I do whatever I can, wherever I am, whenever I can, for as long as I can with whatever I have to try to make a difference. I give thanks for the ways he models integrity, sincerity and truth.

Spend some time thinking this week about where you see models of integrity, and ask God to help you grow in this way, with gladness and singleness of heart, in sincerity and truth.

–Jay Sidebotham

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RenewalWorks: Helping churches focus on spiritual growth

RenewalWorks is about re-orienting your parish around spiritual growth. And by spiritual growth – we mean growing in love of God and neighbor.

Churches can launch as part of a fall or spring cohort or go on their own schedule. (Now accepting signups for the January 2025 cohort)  Sign up now!

Angels, aware and unaware

Today we observe the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels, usually observed on September 29, which this year fell on a superseding Sunday. So the feast got bumped. Regardless, the feast gives us occasion to think about angels. The psalm appointed for this celebration (see above) mentions angels as just one of the ways that the Lord is blessed. According to the psalmist, they do the Lord’s bidding.

Angels show up all over the Bible. Early in the Book of Genesis, an angel guards the Garden of Eden when Adam and Eve get the boot. Fast forward to the Book of Revelation and St. Michael, the archangel, engages in a fierce battle. There was war in heaven. In between, angels show up at critical moments: An angel endows Balaam’s ass with verbal skills. An angel meets depressed and self-pitying Elijah and tells him to have a snack and take a nap. (Good advice for any who are down in the dumps.) Angels announce the birth of John the Baptist and Jesus. A sky full of angels told shepherds to head to Bethlehem. Note: King James tells us the shepherds were sore afraid. Angels announce resurrection on Easter morning, again triggering fear.

We see that quite often the opening words from angels: Fear not. What do you think is scary about that kind of encounter? Sure there’s an element of surprise. But the appearance of an angel also suggests that things are about to change. No more same old same old. Transformation is possible. Something new is emerging.

The word angel means messenger. Understood as such, there are angels all around us, spiritual forces doing God’s bidding, bringing us holy messages. Where have you run across an angel?

I do think that I’ve seen angels. Once when I was in college, I was standing alone facing a difficult moment, about to have a meeting to try to resolve a complicated relationship, praying about that, prayer as a kind of last resort. As I was waiting, a disheveled young man in dirty clothes approached. We exchanged pleasantries. Then he asked if he could pray for me. He put his hand on my forehead. I still remember the force of his hand. He prayed out loud for me. And then he left. Never saw him again. It was not the kind of encounter depicted by Fra Angelico at the annunciation (I wish). It was no vision of winged creature, radiant and sparkly. But I’ve always thought this guy might have been an angel. Have you ever had a similar kind of experience?

In the liturgy of Holy Eucharist, one of the most striking, even transcendent phrases suggests that we pray with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven. We’re part of that heavenly chorus. (Who knew? Who me?) We’re in this together. We’re not alone. Together in this great chorus, we are invited to do God’s bidding.

This week, keep your eyes open for angels, remembering that in the New Testament letter to the Hebrews (Hebrews 13.2), we are presented with the possibility that when we welcome strangers, we may be entertaining angels unaware. And if you catch a glimmer of angel’s wings, consider the ways that you might join them this week in doing God’s bidding.

–Jay Sidebotham

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RenewalWorks: Helping churches focus on spiritual growth

RenewalWorks is about re-orienting your parish around spiritual growth. And by spiritual growth – we mean growing in love of God and neighbor.

Churches can launch as part of a fall or spring cohort or go on their own schedule. (Now accepting signups for the January 2025 cohort)  Sign up now!

Knowing God

The longer I’m on this spiritual journey, the more I marvel at the mystery of what it means to know God. People talk about it a lot in the Bible and in religious circles. I feel like I’ve run across people who make me think: “That person knows God.” But for me, the mystery deepens with every passing day as I’m increasingly aware of the limits of my ability to comprehend what it means to know God.

I’m thinking about all this in response to the psalm printed above, a psalm you may have heard in church yesterday. It comes near the end of the Book of Psalms, when the tone shifts to a focus on praise. We’ve heard all kinds of voices in the psalter: lament, fear, vengeance, regret, forsakenness, even some whining. And as the collection of 150 psalms winds up, again and again the theme is praise, which is really about celebrating the character of God. For those of us who sense audacity in the claim to know God, psalms like this one give us insight into the character of the Holy One. Of all the things that the psalmist could say, these are the kinds of things that merit our praise.

God is the one who brings justice to people who are oppressed, food to the hungry. God sets prisoners free, opens the eyes of the blind. God lifts up those who are bowed down. God cares for the stranger, and sustains the orphan and widow.

That picture of God is reflected in the inaugural sermon Jesus gave in his hometown synagogue (to mixed reviews). As recorded in Luke 4, Jesus stood before the congregation and read from the prophet Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” Jesus rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

In a bold affirmation of the incarnation (another fathomless mystery), Jesus seems to claim that he is one with the God revealed in the Hebrew Scriptures. They share the same character, the same heart. Jesus thereby gives us a window on that divine character. Again, it’s an audacious thing for Jesus to infer. So much so that the congregation tried to throw Jesus over a cliff. I’ve had negative reactions to sermons, but this is a whole other level.

There is, of course a sense in which we understand this divine ministry as symbolic. All of us have hunger, hunger for meaning or relationship. All of us can cite oppression from the judgement of the world. All of us are blind in some way, failing to see what is right before us, failing to see Christ in all persons, for instance. All of us are prisoners of some sort, captive to addiction or resentment. Our faith tells us that Jesus can reach each one of us in those places with liberating, life-giving, loving presence.

But we should be careful not to over spiritualize this. The church over the centuries, on good days, has recognized that a big part of its ministry is taking this vision quite literally: offering food to those who are hungry, worshipping God by going to the kitchen. The church has recognized its call to healing ministry, offering welcome to the stranger. There are ways great and small we can do that. We can do that in our common life with the ways we vote and the ways we advocate for justice. We do that when we fulfill the baptismal promises to seek and serve Christ in all persons, to love neighbor as self, to strive for justice and peace, to respect the dignity of every human being.

The psalmist makes the following connection for us: We do all those things because that is what the God we worship does. We do all those things because that is what Jesus came to do. We do all those things because we are now Christ’s hands and feet in the world. And here’s another mystery. As we serve in this way, we not only get to know more about God’s character. We come to know God, to enter into deeper relationship with the Holy One.

As St. Paul said, we now see through a glass darkly. May we have eyes to see the needs around us and to reflect God’s character this week. There’s probably a specific way you can do that. I bet your church can help make that possible. Give it a try and see if in any way it gives a glimmer of the character of the God we worship, the God who came to us in the form of a servant.

–Jay Sidebotham

Interested in RenewalWorks for your parish? Learn more about how RenewalWorks works!

RenewalWorks: Helping churches focus on spiritual growth

RenewalWorks is about re-orienting your parish around spiritual growth. And by spiritual growth – we mean growing in love of God and neighbor.

Churches can launch as part of a fall or spring cohort or go on their own schedule. (Now accepting signups for the January 2025 cohort)  Sign up now!

Lord, who may dwell in your tabernacle?

Excellent question.

The psalms are full of those kinds of questions, questions that reach across the centuries to challenge us on this Monday morning to think about our own spiritual journey. According to the psalm (printed above and included in the lectionary heard yesterday in church), it seems to be a pretty high bar for who may dwell in the Lord’s tabernacle.

Check out what it takes to obtain admission: Someone who leads a blameless life, does what is right (presumably all of the time), speaks truth with no guile, does no evil, bears no contempt, The list goes on, but I didn’t make it past the first hurdle.

In discussion with a friend who is a rabbi, he shared his understanding of sin. He cited archery as a metaphor, saying that sin is a matter of missing the mark. As St. Paul put it in his letter to the Roman church, sin is a matter of falling short of the glory of God. St. Paul also says that all have sinned. We echo that in the liturgy of our church when we include confession. So perhaps the answer to the psalmist’s good question is that none of us, left to our own devices, can come into that kind of close relationship with the Holy One. There’s just too much going on in our lives, too much going on in our hearts that draws us from the love of God.

So does this mean that the Lord is all alone in that tabernacle? Does anyone make the cut?

That’s where grace comes in. And I’m wondering where you have experienced grace. Maybe you’ve wronged someone and they’ve forgiven you. Maybe you’ve come to some sense that God extended forgiveness to you. Maybe you can hear Jesus’ words from the cross spoken directly to you: Father, forgive them for they don’t know what they’re doing. Maybe you see yourself in Jesus’ story about the prodigal son, a boy who got off track but was welcomed back by his father without condition.

So who can dwell in the holy tabernacle? On the one hand, the answer is no one. On the other hand, the answer is anyone. Taking a broad view of all of scripture, maybe it’s someone who has figured out how to embrace grace, someone who begins to build a life based on that good news, someone who trusts that such good news is true.

The good news of amazing grace doesn’t invalidate the challenge of this psalm. The psalm provides a road map for how we are called to live, taking steps each day to lead a more blameless life, working on increasing truthfulness in our speech, taking a look at where we participate in evil, or where we harbor contempt for others (maybe especially in an election season marked by division in our nation). And doing it all not to earn admission to the tabernacle, but simply as an expression of gratitude for grace that has been shown. A feature of this grace is that when the standard seems too high and our efforts fall short, we are reminded that we are not left alone in the process. We are blessed with a higher power.

This week, reflect on how grace has come into your life. What was that experience like? Maybe journal about it. Maybe tell someone else about (not a particularly Episcopal thing to do.) And then consider the ways in which your life can be a grateful reflection of the gifts that have come your way, showing grace because you have come to know grace.

–Jay Sidebotham

Interested in RenewalWorks for your parish? Learn more about how RenewalWorks works!

RenewalWorks: Helping churches focus on spiritual growth

RenewalWorks is about re-orienting your parish around spiritual growth. And by spiritual growth – we mean growing in love of God and neighbor.

Churches can launch as part of a fall or spring cohort or go on their own schedule. (Now accepting signups for Fall 2024 cohort)  Sign up now!