Daily Devotions

“Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:38-42

A seminary professor of mine once began class by inviting all of his students to describe themselves. Among the descriptions he was looking for was their favorite childhood story. Mine was the one about the ugly duckling. His was the lazy field mouse.

The story of the lazy field mouse tells of how all of the industrious field mice spent their entire summer preparing for the winter. They gathered up food, they shored up the walls of their homes. All summer long, morning until night, they worked to prepare for the winter.

But the lazy field mouse didn’t work. The lazy field mouse spent his summer playing in the grass, laying out on a rock in the hot sun, marveling at the sights of the rising and setting sun.

When winter came, all of the field mice had nice warm homes in which to live and plenty of food to last them all winter long. All except the lazy field mouse. He had no warm home and no food to eat. But he did have stories to tell.

So he went from house to house. The other mice would invite him in. They gave him shelter and food while he told his stories. He described the glories of a summer day. He told them of the colors of the rising and setting sun. And they were grateful for his stories.

There is a place in life to be a Martha and there is a place in life to be a Mary. It is so easy to be worried and distracted by many things. The older we get, the more the worries pile on. And there are so many voices that echo in our head that shame us for the “Mary times” in our lives…. don’t be lazy… don’t lay on the couch in the middle of the day… don’t forget to do your chores!

But now there is one more voice that speaks to us. This voice tells us “you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” It is the same voice that tells us that the sabbath was made for man and not the other way around.

Let us pray: Dear Jesus, may we find our rest in you each day. In the midst of our busyness and all of our distractions, may we, like Mary, find a place at your feet and hear again the story which gives us lives that make sense. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

“At that place Elijah came to a cave, and spent the night there. Then the word of the LORD came to him, saying, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” He answered, “I have been very zealous for the LORD, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” He said, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by.” Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. Then there came a voice to him that said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” 1 Kings 19:9-13

Today’s Bible reading is like hearing the punch line of a joke without hearing the setup. If you have time today, I encourage you to go back to 1 Kings and read more of Elijah’s story. It has much to say to us about taking time off.

Elijah is in trouble with the authorities. He is running for his life, escaping to the wilderness. He stops to catch his breath under a tree and tells the truth about his feelings. He has come to the end of his rope. He can’t go on. He would rather die than continue the fight.

What happens next is really important – not only what happens but the order in which it happens. First, God provides for Elijah’s needs. God provides food and drink and God encourages Elijah to be on his way. Like Israel before him, and Jesus yet to come, Elijah takes a 40 day hike on the strength of that heavenly food. Only then does he get to the cave in today’s reading.

That is where God does the second thing that transforms Elijah. He asks a simple question, “What are you doing here?” It is a wonderful, profound, and yet so simple question. “What are you doing here?”

It is the sort of question that allows us to gain some perspective on our lives, on our purpose under God. It is the question that reminds us of the importance of every aspect of our lives – self care, love of others, worthwhile service, leaving a legacy for others. When we realize the “what” of our lives, we are a whole lot closer to discovering the “why” and the “who” of our lives. Without the “why” and the “who”, the “what” doesn’t make any sense.

My colleague in my first call, Pastor Don Carlson, taught me much about the importance of self-care and perspective. He taught me to say, “I can do 12 months worth of work each year in 11 months of working. But I can’t do 12 months of work in 12 months of working.” He saw the value of time off. He knew in his own life the value of getting away, renewing some perspective, and rediscovering his purpose.

The final part of Elijah’s story that speaks to us today is the marching orders that God gave to him after his sojourn in the wilderness. God sent Elijah back into community. He sent him to anoint kings and to get some help in calling Elisha. There is a time for solitude and a time for community. Both help us see the “why” behind the “what” of our lives.

Let us pray: Gracious Lord, like Elijah, we all come to those places in our lives when we feel ourselves on the run from all of the pressures and trials of daily living. Yet even in those times when we are so empty, you come to feed us and care for us. Use our time away this summer for refreshment, recreation, but most of all, for renewal in our sense of purpose. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

“Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all their multitude. And on the seventh day God finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all the work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested from all the work that he had done in creation.” Genesis 2:1-13

Summer vacation is here. Time to rest. But you know what that means – spending two weeks getting ready to leave for a week. And then, a week later, coming back to all that piled up in our absence which means that we will work doubly hard for at least two weeks after we return. One week doing all that wasn’t done while we were gone and then the next week doing all that was put off the week before doing what should have been done the week we were gone.

Are we feeling rested yet?

I know I’m preaching to the choir on this one. We all know the value of rest. We all know the value of getting away with family or friends. Those experiences, rather than an escape from everyday life are actually opportunities to experience another aspect of life which often escapes us. Time together. Time away. Seeing new faces and old friends. Reconnecting with family. New coffee mugs and “All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt” gifts. Vacation.

My children’s grandparents have gone to the same campground in Minnesota for at least the past 40 years. Their favorite vacation spot must feel like home. Yet they still get away. I think therein lies a pretty important point.

When Genesis tells us that God rested on the day after he had finished the work of creation, he didn’t escape from creation. He rested in it. He took time to enjoy it. He blessed that sabbath time.

For all of you who are reading this, on the eve of summer vacation, enjoy all of the sights and sounds of your preparation. Open yourself to the life that happens as you negotiate the schedules and the plans and the seating arrangements in the van. Value these days for the blessed times that they are.

And take lots of pictures. You’ll be glad later that you did.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, most of us are pretty good at non-productive time but easily stressed by taking time off. Protect those who travel, guide those far from home, help us to value our rest and recreation. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them. Mark 6:8-13

This piece of the story is special to me. The very first sermon I wrote, the first Sunday that I got to preach, at the first congregation I was called to serve, was based on these same words of Jesus.

I remember sitting in my new office, a yellow legal pad in front of me, my typewriter waiting at the back of my desk, reading these words. I had just traveled from Minnesota to Texas in the biggest U-Haul truck they had. It was filled to the brim with the accumulated possessions, including not-so-excellent hand-me-downs, of 27 years of life. The parsonage was a mess, boxes everywhere, stuff stuffed in every corner.

And there I was, reading these verses addressed to those sent out to do ministry in Jesus’ name…travel light it said. Don’t be encumbered by too much stuff. Take only what you need and be ready to run to the next town.

I felt exposed. I had blown it before I even had a fighting chance to try.

But there is wisdom in these words. Even when we hear them, as I heard them then, only as law. The world tells us to accumulate accumulate accumulate. Whoever dies with the most toys wins. You can’t do ministry today without an awesome building, projector screens, a mammoth pipe organ, a hot rock band, a slick pastor who forgot to tuck his shirt in… And we know, in the bottom of our gut, that there are so many things wrong with thinking that way that we hardly know where to start. The wisdom is that Jesus’ admonition to travel light attacks us right at the point where we think we need more.

And the good news rushes in. Jesus is enough. The message is enough. The power that flows through God’s people is the power of God, not the power of power equipment. It was enough to receive the courage to move and then to go. And the disciples went out and they produced godly fruit – lives transformed and redirected, hurting people restored, hope swallowing up despair.

I thought it was about me as I wrote that first sermon. I’ve learned it is about us. And I won’t be content until that us includes everyone. We might need to shake the dust off our feet now and again, but that isn’t to say that we won’t be back tomorrow.

Let us pray: Guide us, Redeemer, Lord and Savior! Pilot us. Help us drop our baggage and go. Fill us with that courage and power to confront all that is in and around us that opposes your rule of love and service. For we know it is only in being truly known by you, that we have any hope of being truly free. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Then he went about among the villages teaching. He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. Mark 6:6-7

What would it have been like for the followers of Jesus to experience the rejection that Jesus faced in Nazareth? What changed in their conversation after leaving Nazareth compared to the journey there? Did Jesus tell “I remember when…” stories filled with laughter and the kind of light-heartedness we all use when we try to communicate “where we’re from” with friends? Or was there a darkness in the air?

Whatever they might have expected, mob violence might not have been high on their list. But they saw it with their own eyes. They saw Jesus doing exactly what they have grown to love in him – speaking with authority and conviction, challenging conventional wisdom, helping the hurting, promising a future of hope and restoration – and they saw the very people among whom Jesus had grown up rise up to throw him out of town.

Certainly at least one of them must have thought, “What have I gotten myself into here?”

Then, before they knew it, Jesus was sending them out in teams of two to do the very same things they had been watching Jesus do.

It is classic mentoring in action – tell them how to do it, show them how to do it, watch them do it, send them out to do it on their own. But they weren’t being sent to sell vacuum cleaners or newspaper subscriptions door to door. They were being sent to convict and console, to challenge and correct, to help and to heal. And they were being sent with the very likely possibility that, just as they were going to do what they had witnessed Jesus doing, they were also opening themselves to the very same treatment that he had received.

Thus they must have appreciated the company of their co-disciple.

To go in teams of two met the requirement of truth telling, that whatever one bore witness to must be substantiated by one or more witnesses. And it also provided for a measure of security, both emotional and physical. So off they went. Under the direction, and with the authority, of Jesus who sent them.

Just like us.

Where did we get the idea that the Christian faith is about OUR comfort? Who suggested that we would live the faith without opposition or bear witness without having to overcome our own fears? The truth is, we might live a comfortable faith if we remain cloistered within the mighty fortress walls of our church buildings, but it we take the faith to the streets (which is where Jesus has sent us), it won’t always be pretty.

Let us pray: Gracious Lord, you entrusted your work to those who weren’t fully prepared or equipped, but here we are today. Your plan works when we work it. Fill us with good courage, and connect us with others, that we might be bold witnesses for you outside of the safe walls of our buildings. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. And he was amazed at their unbelief. Mark 6:4-6

I love the story of “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” An entire community, including the emperor, is conned into believing what their senses, their heart and their brain tells them is not true. But no one is willing to speak up. Until a child breaks the silence and exposes the emperor…as exposed.

Systems, especially family systems, are very resistant to change. They self perpetuate over time and develop incredible resistance to outside intervention. Even faith systems, belief systems. Perhaps, especially faith systems, belief systems.

Millions of dollars are spent ever year because of our internal resistance to change. I have both morning and nighttime routines of getting ready for the day. Far too often, they don’t include flossing my teeth. So I just came home from an early morning dentist appointment. Had I flossed my teeth through the years like I was told to…every time I ever went to the dentist…I might not have had to go through the tortuous gum treatments I’ve had these last three months nor would I have had to pay the cost of the new crown that just found a new home in my mouth.

Companies spend millions of dollars trying to overcome our internal resistance to change. They hire consultants who bring outside ideas and energy into the system with the hope of positive results. As we know, that doesn’t always work.

A priest, a rabbi and a consultant were traveling on an airplane. There was a crisis and it was clear that the plane was going to crash and they would all be killed. The priest began to pray and finger his rosary beads, the rabbi began to read the Torah and the consultant began to organize a committee on air traffic safety.

So it is. We are change resistant people. The Bible would call us “stiff-necked.” That’s how the people in Jesus’ hometown were. He was amazed at their unbelief. He knew them, they knew him, but their system wasn’t able to process or receive the message that he was bringing and living among them. They refused to see that the emperor wore no clothes.

Are we destined to always be so change resistant that we can do no other than resist Jesus? Left to our own devices, probably so. But, while Jesus left his hometown behind him, he continued to carry their unbelief in his heart. All the way to the cross where it was nailed along with all the other symptoms and results of our brokenness. But before he got there, and after Easter Sunday morning, he promised to be present through the power of the Holy Spirit.

The power to lead us to the truth AND to open our eyes to see it for what it is. The power to change. The power to do what we cannot do by our own understanding or effort.

Let us pray: Gracious Lord, we believe, help our unbelief. We trust you, help us trust you always and in all things. Guide us to do our part, even as you do in and around us what we cannot do ourselves. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him. Mark 6:2-3

They used to call it “acting too big for your britches.” When someone used that line in describing someone else, it was always with a note of sarcasm, a criticism of someone who was puffed up with pride and pretending to be someone or something he wasn’t.

Or maybe those words were just about the jealousy and resentment in the criticizer.

The folks in Jesus’ weren’t prepared to hear what the Jesus who had become a man would see, or what the little boy they once knew could do. Jesus wasn’t the same anymore. There was authority and wonder about him. He had changed.

They had not changed.

They didn’t realized they had not changed until Jesus came into their midst. If the place and the people of Jesus’ hometown were his touchstone, then to the people of that place he had become a lightning rod. A dazzling shock of light, revealing what was true but otherwise unseen, casually ignored.

Mark writes that they took offense at him. Luke, in telling the same story, said that they were ready to take Jesus to the edge of town and throw him to his death off of Blind Man’s Bluff. For them, a hometown boy ought to know his place and his place was not at the front of the synagogue. They rejected the messenger and thereby missed the message.

I wonder how often we do that? I know we do it in the political world. When an elected official of a party other than the one we align with talks, we close our ears, harden our hearts and refuse to hear. We reject the messenger and thereby miss the potential truth, at least specks of truth, in the message.

We do it in our emotional lives. Someone might come to us in a spirit of care and concern, but if we sense the challenge they might be carrying, we reject the messenger and thereby miss the truth of the message.

And, the truth is, we still do the same thing to Jesus. We watch and listen to the stories of his ministry. We like words of comfort and peace but when he challenges our ungodly ways of thinking and acting – which is often mediated to us through the voice of another – we reject that voice, reject the messenger, and thereby miss the message.

But when our hearts and minds are open, when we aren’t thrown off by the challenge, maybe God has a thing or two to teach us along the way.

Let us pray: Gracious Lord, you were rejected in your hometown, rejected by the same people who were there as you grew up. Rejected both because of the person you had become and the words you had to say. We pray that, by the power of the Spirit in our lives, you might keep us open to your words and your ways, that we not be numbered among those who reject you still. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

“He left that place and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him.” Mark 6:1

Thus begins the gospel reading assigned to this weekend, a reading which will be heard in every congregation that follows the revised common lectionary to order its public hearing of scripture.

Ironically, many faithful church members won’t be hearing these words in their home congregations because they, like Jesus in the text, will be traveling home. Or traveling to exotic places like campgrounds, Disneyland, Philadelphia or Fargo. But many will indeed be traveling to their hometowns over this upcoming holiday weekend.

Someone who was both insightful and witty once wrote: “Home is where, when you go there, they have to take you in.” Interestingly, there seems to be great disagreement about who actually wrote that line, Google suggests Thomas Wolfe or Robert Frost; I was under the impression it was T.S. Eliot. Perhaps lots of people arrived at the same sentiment because they have shared the same experience.

There really is no place like home.

But what is home? And what is a hometown? In my case, my family moved to Wahpeton, North Dakota, the year before I began kindergarten and I lived there, with a brief 9 month sojourn in Fargo, until I graduated from high school. My mother moved away soon after so I haven’t had a “home” in my hometown since I was 18. But, even though I wasn’t born there, and even though its only impact on my adult life has been memories and somewhat annual one night stand visits to see the place and a few people, it is where I’m from.

I don’t have any relatives there anymore, haven’t had relatives there for years now. But it will ever remain my hometown.

The truth is, many people are blessed with the memories of a hometown, perhaps complete with a family home still in the family. But most people don’t have either and certainly most people don’t have both. “Hometown” in fact is probably not about the place or even the people, it is instead a kind of psychic foundation, a touchstone. A way of both remembering and charting movement. It might be where we are “from” but it is also then a testament to who we have become along the way.

Jesus’ hometown wasn’t ready to discover who he had become.

Here is an aside: One of the most painful of the prices paid by the families of men and women serving in the armed forces is the sacrifice of a “home town” for their children. It isn’t unusual to hear an adult raised in a military family say they attended 12 or more different schools, even in different countries, before graduating from the last one. When you celebrate Independence Day this weekend, please be mindful not only of the military sacrifices of those who have served our country in securing our freedoms but also of the emotional sacrifices necessarily visited upon their families.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, protect those who travel this upcoming weekend, especially those who will be heading home to family, to memories, to the old places that still live within them. Protect those who are far from home and bring healing to those still seeking to find their place in the world. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea‑‑for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” And immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him. Mark 1:16-20

Friends share our life journey.

I don’t think it is an accident that the first thing Jesus did upon beginning his earthly ministry was to collect a few good friends. The disciples, Jesus’ friends, gave Jesus companionship, protection and encouragement. And, when the time came, with their memories of Jesus in their hearts, they carried on the work of their friend.

Have you ever thought much about the daily life of Jesus? There are bits and pieces in the New Testament, but certainly what is recorded is only a tiny piece of his actual life Except for a couple of shortcuts on a boat, or the time he hitched a ride on a donkey, he walked everywhere he went. What do you do when you walk everywhere? When you walk alone, you think or sing. When you walk with friends you talk, laugh, argue, dream. It’s much more fun to walk with friends.

Jesus didn’t have McDonald’s. He ate fruit, nuts, bread – and when there was time and something to throw on the grill – he ate meat cooked over an open fire. That took time – to catch dinner, to gather something to burn, to start a fire. It’s work by yourself, but fun with friends.

Those nights when he was between towns, with no Motel 6, he slept under the stars. Have you ever done that? I have. It’s spooky. The worries are the same today as then, wild animals or robbers. It’s safer to do it with friends.

When I left the seminary, I specifically asked for an opportunity to be an associate pastor. I didn’t have the confidence or ability to be a solo pastor. I needed someone else, a mentor, a coach, a friend. When Jesus sent the disciples out on their own missionary journey, he sent them out two by two. For the same reasons – it was safer, they could encourage and protect one another, and they could hold one another accountable. Life is always better with a friend walking by your side.

Friendship is truly a gift from God. If Jesus needed a few good friends to share his life journey, how much more do we? As we said at the beginning of the week, while it is harder work now to find and maintain friendships, some things in life are worth the work.

Let us pray: Dear Jesus, when we imagine the days of your life we see scenes of you and your friends walking down a dusty path. We see you at dinner, surrounded by people, all listening to your stories, laughing and enjoying themselves. We know you valued friendship. You even called your disciples your friends. We thank you today for those people in our lives who are more than acquaintances but are true friends. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Let us pray: Dear Jesus, we know there is a big difference between being harmful and being helpful. Yet there are times when being helpful feels an awful lot like being harmful. Free us to speak with frankness and honesty to our friends when we believe they need to hear us. And free us to truly listen to our friends when they challenge us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.