A basket of summer fruit. Our lesson begins with a beautiful image, so appropriate to the season. A basket of summer fruit that God sets before His people. Ah, isn't all right in the universe? "The end has come upon my people Israel;I will never again pass them by.The songs of the temple shall become wailings in that day,"says the Lord GOD;"the dead bodies shall be many,cast out in every place. Be silent!" Oh. Oh dear.
(I’ve been traveling to holy sites in the north of England and Scotland for the last week, and while I imagined that I’d have lots of time on the bus to bang out some thoughts on upcoming lections… well that didn’t happen. Sorry this was posted later than usual. Cuthbert, Aidan, and Columba were calling my name too much.) Jesus is asked the question by the lawyer, and then he turns the question right back […]
But, then the Image of God that they bore wouldn't have had the time to work it's wonders. Those disciples, two by two, wouldn't have gotten their hands dirty, or witnessed suffering, or held the mourning, or seen health and life wash over illness and death like a cool breeze on a hot summer day.
This is one of those stories that reminds us, that God not only calls us, but equips us with what we need to fulfill our calling. It's a powerful reminder that we're called to great things - that God expects great things - awesome things - from us, but that God doesn't expect us to do it on our own. Not because we're lazy, but because the things God asks us to do are oftentimes outside the realm of human possibility.
He did not live in a house but in the tombs. He was kept under guard and bound with chains and shackles. He was driven by the demon into the wilds. For a long time he had worn no clothes. Until he met Jesus. Then he was clothed and in his right mind. You’d think this story of great deliverance would have a happier ending. You’d think the townsfolk would be so happy that this […]
The Kingdom of God is for riff-raff. This is uncomfortable to me. Because I've tried very hard in my life NOT to be riff-raff. As I've lived my life, entered adulthood, and joined the League of Parents I've tried as hard as I can to be as respectable as possible. I try hard not to disrespect the unrespectable, but I also try and keep a comfortable distance, because that sort of thing rubs off, you know. But, our Lord has a soft spot for the unrespectable. They're his people. Yes, yes, Jesus doesn't play favorites. . . But he does really.
As humans, when we come face to face with birth or death we instinctively stop. It’s like there’s a universal recognition of the sacred in such moments. And in moments of birth and death we re-engage our sense of touch. In modern, western, culture we’re funny about touch. And, sure, other cultures are funny about touch too, of course. But we, in particular, don’t generally like to be touched or to touch others unless the […]
And that is the let-down we are all faced with on Trinity Sunday. We can have fun with Athanasius and Arius, we can break out Greek words like homoousias and perichoresis, and maybe get our money's worth from our theological education. But, at the end of the day we will be left with the gap between us and the unknowable. That which we are unable to bear.
Cause if we just sink into the mire of Christian blandness we might as well just climb back into the upper room. And lock the door. I heard it's safe in there. But when the Spirit of God moved on the waters, and Light shined forth, and the morning stars sang together with all the heavenly host - when that hunk of clay took its first breath direct from the lungs of God - when the white-hot fire of God swooped down from Heaven and set a bush on fire/ blazed a trail in the wilderness/ filled the Temple with God's Presence/ brought forth the Holy Spirit and set the disciples' heads literally on fire. . . there was nothing bland about any of it.
And, maybe it's not the central meaning of this passage from the Book of Acts, but what this perspective at least demonstrates is that ministry, and blessing, and prayer all happen in the midst of the messiness of human emotion. There's that awful preconceived notion that the Christian life is supposed to be one of calm serenity, if not outright blandness. There's an unspoken (though maybe in some circles it IS spoken) platitude that if we're close to the heart of God we just smile all the time and put up with anything and anyone without bother. Bologna.