Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them.
Matthew 13:7
This verse from Morning Prayer yesterday stood out to me as I was reading through the Office. The parable of the sower appears in all three synoptic gospels; and even though Matthew's version is the only one appointed to be read in the Sunday lectionary, we've probably all heard this parable many times over the years.
The traditional explanation of this verse, and the one given by Jesus, is that the thorns represent the cares of the world and the lure of wealth which chokes the word out of the one who hears it, yielding nothing. I’m not one to generally argue with Jesus, especially over the interpretations he gives his own parables, but I wonder if there's more to it than that.
Or rather, I wonder if we get too focused on “the lure of wealth” and forget about “the cares of the world.” It's easy to accuse wealthy people of not following the precepts of Christ, or of not doing enough with their wealth to help reduce suffering in the world. It's easy to shake our heads at someone like Zack Greinke, pitcher for the L.A. Dodgers, who recently opted out of his $71 million contract in order to become a free agent . . . where he will probably sign for anywhere between $125 and $150 million. The lure of wealth, indeed.
But what about those cares of the world? I don't think they all revolve around our pursuit of wealth and happiness. I don't know Mr. Greinke, and he may be doing wonderful things with his money; after all, it's not his fault he landed a job in a business that values men who can throw a baseball.
Could it be that the cares of the world revolve around other things? Things like being offended when someone doesn't live up to your expectations. Things like attributing negative motives to people. Things like allowing work to control our schedules rather than making relationships a priority. Things like taking others for granted in favor of short-term gains.
There is plenty in this world to distract us and choke us off from the word. There are plenty of cares of the world to which we eagerly or slowly submit. If we only look to the lure of wealth, we might be openly blind to other things which just as effectively choke us.
So maybe I’m not arguing with Jesus as much as I’m digging a little deeper into what he's saying.
And maybe one way to trim back those weeds is to regularly ask ourselves, “How is what I'm doing consistent with, or advancing the cause of, the gospel?”
There will always be weeds, and we may not be able to eliminate them all. But if we worked to eliminate a few here and there, that's a few more places here and there in which the word can take root.
Amen.
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
October 21, 2015
Fear nothing so much, blame nothing so much, flee nothing so much, as your own sins and vices, of which ought to distress you more than any worldly loss.
Thomas a'Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, Book Three, Chapter 4
“From now on, I'm looking out for Number One, Numero Uno.”
I’m sure we've all heard something like that at some point in our lives. We may have even said something like that at some point in our lives. The point of that saying is that we need to be taking care of ourselves. We need to be watching out for ourselves, because nobody else will.
This applies to jobs and careers, but it also applies to retirement funds, healthcare and other benefits we may have in other areas. We have learned, sometimes by watching others, sometimes by noticing trends, and sometimes through our own failures, that we are are own advocate. Nobody is going to step up for us and make sure things are taken care of.
Isn't it interesting, though, that so oftentimes the people who champion a “me first” attitude are the ones who obsess over the behaviors and actions of others. People who loudly proclaim they don't want the government telling them how to live their lives are quick to support rules against those different from themselves. People who have no trouble accessing healthcare for themselves are quick to support a system that won't offer healthcare for everyone. People who rally around “religious freedom” slogans are quick to push for bans against any religion other than their own, or forced compliance with their own (think the Ten Commandments and Nativity scenes on and in government buildings, or mandatory Christian prayer before city council meetings or high school football games).
We fear that which we don't understand. We are quick to blame others for our own mistakes. We run away from that which we see as different, hoping to avoid contamination. And we condemn all of the above; sometimes in the name of offendedness, sometimes in the name of righteousness.
Maybe what we need to stop doing is trying to make the world and those around us into our image. Maybe we need to focus more on loving God and neighbor than sewing seeds of discontent because we are being invaded by those not like us.
If we are really looking out for Number One, maybe we should look ourselves in the mirror and consider which sins and vices we have committed today, and then work to commit one less tomorrow. Because in the end, it's not a blame game . . . it's an honesty game.
Amen.
Thomas a'Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, Book Three, Chapter 4
“From now on, I'm looking out for Number One, Numero Uno.”
I’m sure we've all heard something like that at some point in our lives. We may have even said something like that at some point in our lives. The point of that saying is that we need to be taking care of ourselves. We need to be watching out for ourselves, because nobody else will.
This applies to jobs and careers, but it also applies to retirement funds, healthcare and other benefits we may have in other areas. We have learned, sometimes by watching others, sometimes by noticing trends, and sometimes through our own failures, that we are are own advocate. Nobody is going to step up for us and make sure things are taken care of.
Isn't it interesting, though, that so oftentimes the people who champion a “me first” attitude are the ones who obsess over the behaviors and actions of others. People who loudly proclaim they don't want the government telling them how to live their lives are quick to support rules against those different from themselves. People who have no trouble accessing healthcare for themselves are quick to support a system that won't offer healthcare for everyone. People who rally around “religious freedom” slogans are quick to push for bans against any religion other than their own, or forced compliance with their own (think the Ten Commandments and Nativity scenes on and in government buildings, or mandatory Christian prayer before city council meetings or high school football games).
We fear that which we don't understand. We are quick to blame others for our own mistakes. We run away from that which we see as different, hoping to avoid contamination. And we condemn all of the above; sometimes in the name of offendedness, sometimes in the name of righteousness.
Maybe what we need to stop doing is trying to make the world and those around us into our image. Maybe we need to focus more on loving God and neighbor than sewing seeds of discontent because we are being invaded by those not like us.
If we are really looking out for Number One, maybe we should look ourselves in the mirror and consider which sins and vices we have committed today, and then work to commit one less tomorrow. Because in the end, it's not a blame game . . . it's an honesty game.
Amen.
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
October 14, 2015
All of us, then, should reflect seriously on how to appear before the majesty of God in the presence of his angels. That will lead us to make sure that, when we sing in the choir, there is complete harmony between the thoughts in our mind and the meaning of the words we sing.
St. Benedict's Rule, Chapter 19
You may recall that I have been asked by The Living Church to be part of a daily reflection project for their website. The project has several writers who have been assigned to write for four weeks, one week at a time, over the next six months. Our guidelines are to offer reflections on the Daily Office.
My first assignment is due November 1, and is set to run the week of November 15. As it happens, the series of readings on that Monday begin with the story of the Transfiguration. I am just now putting my thoughts down, but I find myself beginning to write about the difference between worship and ministry.
We need both.
While it would be easy to focus on worship, it is our ministry that ultimately gets God's word and presence out into the world. On the other hand, if we only focus on ministry, we may lose sight of the need for worship.
It's not original when I've said, “The one thing the Church does that no other social agency does is worship.” Worship is what we do. Our day should begin and end with worship. Our ministry should begin and end with worship. Worship should not only bookend everything we do, but it should infuse everything we do as well.
St. Benedict recognized the importance of worship when he included those words in his Rule. It remains so for us today.
When we worship, we are in the presence of angels and archangels. When we participate in worship, we need to reflect seriously on how we appear before the majesty of God so that there is complete harmony between our thoughts and the words we read and sing.
Do we joyfully praise God for his glory? Are we truly sorry, and do we honestly and humbly repent of our sins? Do we joyfully give God our thanks and praise? Do we go forth in the name of Christ, striving to live as his real presence in the world?
Worship and ministry are not two separate aspects of the Church; they are the warp and woof of our lives as Christians. Worship is ministry. Ministry is worship. But as intertwined and interdependent as they are, let us always remember that it begins and ends with worship.
The Lord be with you.
St. Benedict's Rule, Chapter 19
You may recall that I have been asked by The Living Church to be part of a daily reflection project for their website. The project has several writers who have been assigned to write for four weeks, one week at a time, over the next six months. Our guidelines are to offer reflections on the Daily Office.
My first assignment is due November 1, and is set to run the week of November 15. As it happens, the series of readings on that Monday begin with the story of the Transfiguration. I am just now putting my thoughts down, but I find myself beginning to write about the difference between worship and ministry.
We need both.
While it would be easy to focus on worship, it is our ministry that ultimately gets God's word and presence out into the world. On the other hand, if we only focus on ministry, we may lose sight of the need for worship.
It's not original when I've said, “The one thing the Church does that no other social agency does is worship.” Worship is what we do. Our day should begin and end with worship. Our ministry should begin and end with worship. Worship should not only bookend everything we do, but it should infuse everything we do as well.
St. Benedict recognized the importance of worship when he included those words in his Rule. It remains so for us today.
When we worship, we are in the presence of angels and archangels. When we participate in worship, we need to reflect seriously on how we appear before the majesty of God so that there is complete harmony between our thoughts and the words we read and sing.
Do we joyfully praise God for his glory? Are we truly sorry, and do we honestly and humbly repent of our sins? Do we joyfully give God our thanks and praise? Do we go forth in the name of Christ, striving to live as his real presence in the world?
Worship and ministry are not two separate aspects of the Church; they are the warp and woof of our lives as Christians. Worship is ministry. Ministry is worship. But as intertwined and interdependent as they are, let us always remember that it begins and ends with worship.
The Lord be with you.
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
October 7, 2015
Blessed are the ears that hear the Divine whisper, and give no heed to the whisperings of the world.
Thomas a'Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, Book Three, Chapter 1
There's a lot that happens in silence. We can say, “I love you” without saying a word. We rest in the comfort of people we know and trust without having to speak. We hear things we might normally not hear. Elijah heard the voice of God not in the rumble of an earthquake or roar of the wind, but in the sound of sheer silence (1 Kings 19:11-12). And Jiminy Cricket was the small voice of conscience for Pinocchio.
People often refer to the “still, small voice of God.” The NRSV, which we use for worship services and has become the default Bible of the Episcopal Church, does not use that term. It translates those verses from 1 Kings as “sheer silence;” but, as with many things, some terms from the KJV have a lasting impression, and this is one of them. The “sheer silence” of the NRSV is translation of the much more poetic “still, small voice” of the KJV.
But whether you prefer sheer silence or a still, small voice isn't really the point. The point is that that one verse has made an impression on all of Judaism and Christianity to such an extent that we don't often talk about the booming voice of God reverberating through us, but rather the still, small voice of God that cut through the noise of the world and spoke to our heart.
It's important for us to take time and listen for the whisper. This is why I have built periods of silence into the Sunday Eucharist, so that we can have an intentional time to hear what God might be saying to us through the readings and sermon. It's why I have longer periods of silence in the Morning Prayer service – so that we can not only listen for what God might be saying, but because that might be the only time of silence we get during the cacophony of modern life.
When you pray, are you taking time to listen for the Divine whisper? When you are going through your busy day, with traffic and sirens and radios and background noise of all kinds, are you able to hear
the Divine whisper?
Maybe that's why God speaks through the sheer silence in a still, small voice – because if God were to babble along as loudly as the rest of the world his voice would get lost as just so much background noise. But a whisper can get our attention. A whisper can make us say, “What was that?” A whisper can make us listen more intently.
God is calling to us in a whisper. Are we willing to make the effort and listen?
Amen.
Thomas a'Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, Book Three, Chapter 1
There's a lot that happens in silence. We can say, “I love you” without saying a word. We rest in the comfort of people we know and trust without having to speak. We hear things we might normally not hear. Elijah heard the voice of God not in the rumble of an earthquake or roar of the wind, but in the sound of sheer silence (1 Kings 19:11-12). And Jiminy Cricket was the small voice of conscience for Pinocchio.
People often refer to the “still, small voice of God.” The NRSV, which we use for worship services and has become the default Bible of the Episcopal Church, does not use that term. It translates those verses from 1 Kings as “sheer silence;” but, as with many things, some terms from the KJV have a lasting impression, and this is one of them. The “sheer silence” of the NRSV is translation of the much more poetic “still, small voice” of the KJV.
But whether you prefer sheer silence or a still, small voice isn't really the point. The point is that that one verse has made an impression on all of Judaism and Christianity to such an extent that we don't often talk about the booming voice of God reverberating through us, but rather the still, small voice of God that cut through the noise of the world and spoke to our heart.
It's important for us to take time and listen for the whisper. This is why I have built periods of silence into the Sunday Eucharist, so that we can have an intentional time to hear what God might be saying to us through the readings and sermon. It's why I have longer periods of silence in the Morning Prayer service – so that we can not only listen for what God might be saying, but because that might be the only time of silence we get during the cacophony of modern life.
When you pray, are you taking time to listen for the Divine whisper? When you are going through your busy day, with traffic and sirens and radios and background noise of all kinds, are you able to hear
the Divine whisper?
Maybe that's why God speaks through the sheer silence in a still, small voice – because if God were to babble along as loudly as the rest of the world his voice would get lost as just so much background noise. But a whisper can get our attention. A whisper can make us say, “What was that?” A whisper can make us listen more intently.
God is calling to us in a whisper. Are we willing to make the effort and listen?
Amen.
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
September 30, 2015
Pray also for me, so that when I speak, a message may be given to me to make known with boldness the mystery of the gospel.
Ephesians 6:19
I wrote those words in the front of my BCP either while in seminary or shortly after arriving at my first call in Montana. I honestly can't remember which, but it doesn't much matter, because I put them there as a reminder to me that preaching is a job I should always take seriously, that the gospel is a mystery, that the message should come from the leading of the Spirit, and that I need to proclaim that message boldly. I haven't always lived up to that ideal, but I try.
There's another part to that verse that, while I haven't overlooked, needs to be considered, especially today and in the future – Pray for me.
I have been writing The Wednesday Word for a year now – the first official piece came out on September 24, 2014. I have written about the words of the Desert Fathers, verses of scripture and other readings or sayings I have come across in that time. I have been both surprised and humbled at the overwhelming positive response I have received from those who read these little musings.
But these “little musings,” originally intended for the parishioners and friends of St. Luke's, have led to something somewhat larger. You may remember Fr. David Baumann, who attended for a time with his fiancee Elizabeth. They since moved to Illinois where he is serving a small parish, but have chosen to remain on our e-mail list. Fr. David is much more connected to the wider church than I, and that's where this gets interesting.
Through his connections, the people of The Living Church (TLC) reached out to him asking if he would be willing to be part of a new project and write a variety of meditations for their website. He respectfully declined, but said, “I know a guy . . .” That guy was me, and I was asked to be part a new writing project. I had some questions and said I'd think about it.
The questions have been answered, I assented and I have been given my assignment. I, along with a team of other writers, will be offering meditations on the Daily Office for the next several months. My designated offerings will be during the weeks of November 15, January 10, March 6 and May 1. TLC will, at some point, evaluate the project and then do one of three things: fire us all and discontinue the project; continue the project and ask us all to keep writing; continue the project with a slate of different authors. But for now, thanks to Fr. David, I will be writing for a larger audience than that of the parishioners and friends of St. Luke's.
As I begin to think about what this will look like and how I will turn my thoughts on the Daily Office into a meditation series for a much larger readership, the words of the prayer I prayed in the sacristy before services early in my ordained life, and up to today before large services, come to mind: Please God, don't let me screw up. Amen.
And now, as that process begins, I ask you to heed the words of Ephesians 6:19 – Pray also for me, so that when I write, a message may be given me to make known the mystery of the gospel.
Amen.
Ephesians 6:19
I wrote those words in the front of my BCP either while in seminary or shortly after arriving at my first call in Montana. I honestly can't remember which, but it doesn't much matter, because I put them there as a reminder to me that preaching is a job I should always take seriously, that the gospel is a mystery, that the message should come from the leading of the Spirit, and that I need to proclaim that message boldly. I haven't always lived up to that ideal, but I try.
There's another part to that verse that, while I haven't overlooked, needs to be considered, especially today and in the future – Pray for me.
I have been writing The Wednesday Word for a year now – the first official piece came out on September 24, 2014. I have written about the words of the Desert Fathers, verses of scripture and other readings or sayings I have come across in that time. I have been both surprised and humbled at the overwhelming positive response I have received from those who read these little musings.
But these “little musings,” originally intended for the parishioners and friends of St. Luke's, have led to something somewhat larger. You may remember Fr. David Baumann, who attended for a time with his fiancee Elizabeth. They since moved to Illinois where he is serving a small parish, but have chosen to remain on our e-mail list. Fr. David is much more connected to the wider church than I, and that's where this gets interesting.
Through his connections, the people of The Living Church (TLC) reached out to him asking if he would be willing to be part of a new project and write a variety of meditations for their website. He respectfully declined, but said, “I know a guy . . .” That guy was me, and I was asked to be part a new writing project. I had some questions and said I'd think about it.
The questions have been answered, I assented and I have been given my assignment. I, along with a team of other writers, will be offering meditations on the Daily Office for the next several months. My designated offerings will be during the weeks of November 15, January 10, March 6 and May 1. TLC will, at some point, evaluate the project and then do one of three things: fire us all and discontinue the project; continue the project and ask us all to keep writing; continue the project with a slate of different authors. But for now, thanks to Fr. David, I will be writing for a larger audience than that of the parishioners and friends of St. Luke's.
As I begin to think about what this will look like and how I will turn my thoughts on the Daily Office into a meditation series for a much larger readership, the words of the prayer I prayed in the sacristy before services early in my ordained life, and up to today before large services, come to mind: Please God, don't let me screw up. Amen.
And now, as that process begins, I ask you to heed the words of Ephesians 6:19 – Pray also for me, so that when I write, a message may be given me to make known the mystery of the gospel.
Amen.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
September 23, 2015
It'll be a lot of fun to go out there and risk our lives.
Sgt. Floyd Pepper
For those who do not know, Sgt. Floyd Pepper is the bass player for the Electric Mayhem, the band from the original Muppet Show and movies. I always wondered if he and Janice had a thing going on . . . But I digress.
I had a conversation this week with a parishioner and we were discussing the idea of risk. In general, is the short-term reward greater than the required risk, or does the risk outweigh the potential reward? This is the question we all deal with at some point, and this question has a multitude of implications.
Many a professional athlete has cut his/her career short in the pursuit of winning a championship “now.” But that idea is being challenged by Matt Harvey, pitcher for the NY Mets. The Mets haven't won a championship since 1986, and the Mets' fans want Harvey to pitch well into the playoffs. But he and his agent have stipulated an “inning limit” so as not to damage his arm and his long-term career. The argument is one of risk: does he risk his arm and future for a World Series, or does he risk a World Series for a long career?
At Celilo Falls, near what is now The Dalles Dam, Native Americans would fish for salmon, recognizing that the salmon provided food for their families, their tribe, and the generations of people who would come after them. When the white man showed up and saw the abundance of fish, they nearly fished the river dry. It was a question of risk: the Native Americans were willing to risk losing out on personal abundance in favor of long-term survival, whereas the white fishermen were willing to risk losing long-term production in favor of short-term gain and immediate profits.
But for us as Christians and as members of St. Luke's, risk might have a different connotation. The annual pledge drive approaches; are we willing to risk increasing our pledge toward the long-term health of the church? We are continuing to examine and tease out those dots in order to answer the question, “Who do you say St. Luke's is?” Are we willing to view them as an indicator of who we might be, and then risk making the necessary changes to live into a possible new way of being? The Episcopal Church in general, and St. Luke's in particular, has something to offer the people of this community. Yes, we have a website, and yes, we've painted the doors red; but are we willing to risk meeting people face-to-face and talking with them one-on-one? Are we willing to risk putting a public face on our private faith?
At some point we need to get up, get out, and take a gospel risk. We need to risk our self-esteem in the face of rejection. We need to risk our need to be “safe” and talk with those we might not normally talk with. We need to risk changing from the way we've always done things for new and challenging ways that, quite honestly, may or may not lead to immediate results.
In short, we need to risk our immediate lives for the long-term arc of the gospel. Maybe that means we risk being more outgoing. Maybe it means we risk increasing our pledge. Maybe it means we risk doing things differently. And maybe, just maybe, if we take risks for the gospel, we can echo the words of Sgt. Floyd and say, “Hey, that was a lot of fun.”
Amen.
Sgt. Floyd Pepper
For those who do not know, Sgt. Floyd Pepper is the bass player for the Electric Mayhem, the band from the original Muppet Show and movies. I always wondered if he and Janice had a thing going on . . . But I digress.
I had a conversation this week with a parishioner and we were discussing the idea of risk. In general, is the short-term reward greater than the required risk, or does the risk outweigh the potential reward? This is the question we all deal with at some point, and this question has a multitude of implications.
Many a professional athlete has cut his/her career short in the pursuit of winning a championship “now.” But that idea is being challenged by Matt Harvey, pitcher for the NY Mets. The Mets haven't won a championship since 1986, and the Mets' fans want Harvey to pitch well into the playoffs. But he and his agent have stipulated an “inning limit” so as not to damage his arm and his long-term career. The argument is one of risk: does he risk his arm and future for a World Series, or does he risk a World Series for a long career?
At Celilo Falls, near what is now The Dalles Dam, Native Americans would fish for salmon, recognizing that the salmon provided food for their families, their tribe, and the generations of people who would come after them. When the white man showed up and saw the abundance of fish, they nearly fished the river dry. It was a question of risk: the Native Americans were willing to risk losing out on personal abundance in favor of long-term survival, whereas the white fishermen were willing to risk losing long-term production in favor of short-term gain and immediate profits.
But for us as Christians and as members of St. Luke's, risk might have a different connotation. The annual pledge drive approaches; are we willing to risk increasing our pledge toward the long-term health of the church? We are continuing to examine and tease out those dots in order to answer the question, “Who do you say St. Luke's is?” Are we willing to view them as an indicator of who we might be, and then risk making the necessary changes to live into a possible new way of being? The Episcopal Church in general, and St. Luke's in particular, has something to offer the people of this community. Yes, we have a website, and yes, we've painted the doors red; but are we willing to risk meeting people face-to-face and talking with them one-on-one? Are we willing to risk putting a public face on our private faith?
At some point we need to get up, get out, and take a gospel risk. We need to risk our self-esteem in the face of rejection. We need to risk our need to be “safe” and talk with those we might not normally talk with. We need to risk changing from the way we've always done things for new and challenging ways that, quite honestly, may or may not lead to immediate results.
In short, we need to risk our immediate lives for the long-term arc of the gospel. Maybe that means we risk being more outgoing. Maybe it means we risk increasing our pledge. Maybe it means we risk doing things differently. And maybe, just maybe, if we take risks for the gospel, we can echo the words of Sgt. Floyd and say, “Hey, that was a lot of fun.”
Amen.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
September 16, 2015
The end is near; but then again, the end is always near for someone.
Everywhere you look it seems like we are seeing more and more signs of the End Times. Obviously wars and rumors of wars are big on that list. I read a description from a victim of the wildfires in California who said, “I felt like it was the end times. It was red and black and boiling.” Add to that the hundreds of thousands of displaced Syrians, and, well, it can feel like the End Times are indeed upon us.
Natural disasters bring on end times for people affected by them. Hurricanes Andrew and Katrina brought on end times for people in Florida and New Orleans. The Christmas tsunami brought on end times for people in the western Pacific. The wildfires that are tearing through the western states have delivered end times for homeowners and, unfortunately, a few firefighters.
For people involved in wars, the end times may indeed be here. They may lose their homes, their land, their friends, their families or their own lives. War creates end times for a lot of people.
Right now there are hundreds of thousands of people fleeing the war in Syria. They've lost their homes. They've lost their land. Many of them have lost friends and family members. The refugees have more reason to believe the End Times are upon them than any televangelist talking about some ridiculous “blood moon” prophecy.
Instead of focusing on the End Times and trying to read current events with an eye to the calendar and Jesus' return date, maybe we should be focusing on making the kingdom of God present and relevant in the here and now. Jesus said blessed are those who fed, watered, clothed and welcomed those who needed feeding, water, clothing and were strangers. Maybe this is where we exhibit and proclaim the kingdom and love of God.
There are plenty of resources and places to go if you want to be part of the solution; and one of those places is here: http://www.episcopalchurch.org/page/where-we-work. It doesn't cover everything, and it's a limited resource, but it might not be a bad place to begin.
What would happen if we all stopped worrying about the End Times and began working for, and living into, Kingdom Times?
Amen.
Everywhere you look it seems like we are seeing more and more signs of the End Times. Obviously wars and rumors of wars are big on that list. I read a description from a victim of the wildfires in California who said, “I felt like it was the end times. It was red and black and boiling.” Add to that the hundreds of thousands of displaced Syrians, and, well, it can feel like the End Times are indeed upon us.
Natural disasters bring on end times for people affected by them. Hurricanes Andrew and Katrina brought on end times for people in Florida and New Orleans. The Christmas tsunami brought on end times for people in the western Pacific. The wildfires that are tearing through the western states have delivered end times for homeowners and, unfortunately, a few firefighters.
For people involved in wars, the end times may indeed be here. They may lose their homes, their land, their friends, their families or their own lives. War creates end times for a lot of people.
Right now there are hundreds of thousands of people fleeing the war in Syria. They've lost their homes. They've lost their land. Many of them have lost friends and family members. The refugees have more reason to believe the End Times are upon them than any televangelist talking about some ridiculous “blood moon” prophecy.
Instead of focusing on the End Times and trying to read current events with an eye to the calendar and Jesus' return date, maybe we should be focusing on making the kingdom of God present and relevant in the here and now. Jesus said blessed are those who fed, watered, clothed and welcomed those who needed feeding, water, clothing and were strangers. Maybe this is where we exhibit and proclaim the kingdom and love of God.
There are plenty of resources and places to go if you want to be part of the solution; and one of those places is here: http://www.episcopalchurch.org/page/where-we-work. It doesn't cover everything, and it's a limited resource, but it might not be a bad place to begin.
What would happen if we all stopped worrying about the End Times and began working for, and living into, Kingdom Times?
Amen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)