Daily Devotions

Then Jesus cried again with a loud voice and breathed his last.

At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, and the rocks were split. The tombs also were opened, and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised. After his resurrection they came out of the tombs and entered the holy city and appeared to many.

Now when the centurion and those with him, who were keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were terrified and said, “Truly this man was God’s Son!” Matthew 27:50-54

My hand was on my father’s head when he died. His wife. My sisters. We all stood around him on his hospital bed as he breathed his last. It is a surreal experience. His was a peaceful death. The kind of death many people hope for – they have tried everything. You aren’t going to get any better in this life. You want those you love around you. You want, as we pray at funerals, “Lord Jesus Christ, by your death you took away the sting of death: Grant to us your servants so to follow in faith where you have led the way, that we may at length fall asleep peacefully in you and wake up in your likeness.”

The death of Jesus wasn’t peaceful.

Matthew tells the story in dramatic, earth-shattering and tomb-opening fashion. His wasn’t a peaceful death. It was violent and chaotic. Just as the heavens were torn open at the baptism of Jesus, now the temple curtain is torn open. Matthew says that even the dead are raised and start walking around town like some kind of zombie apocalypse. This isn’t a peaceful death.

Those who schemed and plotted his death got their wish. Pilate’s will was done. The soldier were coldly efficient in their whipping and nailing and watch keeping. The crowds left his limp body. Nothing more there to see. Let’s move on now to the next thing that captures our fancy. The next lynching…because we all know there’s going to be another one somewhere. Blood lust is never satisfied.

Except for one soldier (and Matthew adds, knowing it takes more than one witness to be “official”, “those who were with him.) One soldier suddenly realizes what they have done. One soldier’s eyes of faith are finally opened. “Truly this man was God’s Son!”

The death of Jesus leads one person to faith. The first confession of faith after the death of Jesus comes from a Roman soldier. I don’t care who you are – no one could have seen that one coming.

As I have often heard it said, if even one person were to come to faith, it would all be worth it. I believe that. I believe Jesus would say the same thing. Because that is how Jesus works. One person at time.

And the first was a Roman soldier. Perhaps even with the blood of Jesus on his hands.

This death wasn’t peaceful – it was the fulcrum of time.

And know this as well – this death was for you.

Let us pray: Jesus, rouse us from our complacency. Fill us with the power of your Spirit that our eyes might be opened anew to the depth of your love and the power of your presence. You, dying a horrible death, swallowed up death. You, rejected, refused to reject. Hated, you refused to hate. May our hearts and lives, like that soldier, come to new-found faith. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

From noon on, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And about three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, “This man is calling for Elijah.” At once one of them ran and got a sponge, filled it with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink. But the others said, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save him.” Matthew 27:45-49

Three hours. Three tortuous hours. Finally Jesus cries out, not to those who are taunting and tormenting him, but to the God who has forsaken him.

When I was a kid I remember wondering how this could be. How could Jesus (who is fully God) be forsaken by God? I used to wonder the same thing in the passages where Jesus prays. Is he talking to himself? It was a mystery to me.

Then I went to the seminary and studied Christology, that branch of theology that focuses on the person of Jesus. I learned words like hypostatic union and adoptionist. I got good grades for all my work. I headed off to be a pastor and lo, these many years later, it still remains a mystery to me. It always will.

But what is not a mystery to me is how it feels when it feels like God has utterly disappeared from my consciousness. (Notice how that sentence combines feeling and thinking.) When life turns dark and hopeless, my mind might remind me of how Jesus said, “I will never leave or abandon you” or the biblical assurances of God’s continuing presence in all times and places but my gut tells me that I’m all alone. I’ve been fooling myself to trust in God. The only thing that makes any sense at that point is “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

Luther said that the greatest of all sins is despair. This sounds strange if you tend to think of “sin” only as moral failures. Despair is a feeling. We have no control over our feelings, we just have them. But if you think of “sin” as relational brokenness, as disconnection, as isolation, then Luther’s idea makes sense. And so does Jesus’ prayer.

Yes, Jesus does feel cut off from God, abandoned, forsaken. In this, Jesus bears our sin on the cross. But what does Jesus do with that? Jesus takes it to God. Jesus prays about it. And in that prayer, we need never again feel disconnected from God when we are in the darkest places of our lives…because we know that Jesus himself was right there too. For us then, with us now.

Let us pray: Dear Jesus, in the darkest of moments, in the agony of your death, you reached out to God with your sense of being cut off, abandoned, rejected not only by the people you loved but by the God from whom you drew your life. We pray today for anyone who finds themselves in that place of deep despair. Come to them. Encourage them. Remind them that they are not alone. You’ve been there and you are there with them. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

And when they came to a place called Golgotha (which means Place of a Skull), they offered him wine to drink, mixed with gall; but when he tasted it, he would not drink it.

And when they had crucified him, they divided his clothes among themselves by casting lots; then they sat down there and kept watch over him. Over his head they put the charge against him, which read, “This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.” Matthew 27:33-37

When you travel to Jerusalem you might be very surprised, as I was, to discover that there are two very different places where the death and resurrection of Jesus are remembered.

One is inside of a cathedral, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, within the walls of the Old City of Jerusalem. It is a strange place, bustling with tourists, divided into zones which “belong” to various Christian communities. You climb some steps to the altar table controlled by the Orthodox church which, they tell you, is on top of where the cross was planted.

Down on the main floor you pass the rock upon which Jesus’ body was prepared for burial.

And then you find, right in the heart of the building, the Roman Catholic Church controlled ornate altar hidden from view from the main floor where, they tell you, Jesus was laid in the tomb. I was there for a week and was never able to see back in there because it was always roped off for the special “invite only” masses booked long in advance. So there is that.

But then there is another place in town. Right behind the bus station. Called the Garden Tomb, it is quiet and reflective. Its most prominent feature is a rock formation that really does look like a skull. And, down below that, another tomb for the body of Jesus. This place has long been pretty much a Protestant thing.

Is it surprising that Christianity is so divided that we cannot even agree on the place where the most important historical event in our faith took place? Or could it be, like the four gospel letters, that the point is about being righteous, not being right? Could it be that the Christian faith is a conversation more than a set of conclusions? Could it be, in the wonderful diversity of life, that seeking unity which embraces diversity is more faithful than seeking uniformity which tramples diversity?

Matthew notes that the soldiers “divided his clothing” as an allusion to Psalm 22, “They stare and gloat over me; they divide my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots.” To this day, we continue to end worship on Maundy Thursday by reading Psalm 22. The altar is stripped bare. The lights are turned low or off. We leave the sanctuary in silence.

Like those soldiers, we watch.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, like any family, the Christian family which continues to carry your story to the world has long been divided. Like your clothing on that day, we divide things because we all want a special piece of the pie, a special seat at the table. In our sin, we seek power, position, privilege, authority. We seek to be served rather than to serve. We seek to be right more than we seek to be righteous. Yet you bind us together. You bind us by your blood which was shed for all people. You bind us together by your love, which you seek us to demonstrate in the lives we lead. As your arms were stretched out on the cross, you embrace us in our divisions and, in that love and mercy, we find healing. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

So he released Barabbas for them; and after flogging Jesus, he handed him over to be crucified. Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor’s headquarters, and they gathered the whole cohort around him.

They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and after twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on his head. They put a reed in his right hand and knelt before him and mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” They spat on him, and took the reed and struck him on the head. After mocking him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him.

As they went out, they came upon a man from Cyrene named Simon; they compelled this man to carry his cross. Matthew 27:26-32

I wonder where Barabbas went after he was released? I make up in my mind that someone came to his prison cell and shocked him with the news that he was to be released immediately. Can you imagine? Whether or not, as Matthew says, he was a “notorious criminal”, or, as Luke says, he was imprisoned for “insurrection and murder”, Barabbas was a political prisoner. And the fate of political prisoners was crucifixion.

Why? Because it was an excruciatingly painful way to die and it was a very public way to kill someone. Crucifixions usually happened alongside the main roads into a city as a public warning to anyone who might get the crazy idea of crossing the Roman authorities. However long Barabbas was imprisoned, that destiny was his constant companion.

He heard the footsteps. He heard the voice calling his name. And the next thing he knew he was back in the streets of the city, free to go wherever he wanted.

I wonder where he went?

Did he go back to his same old haunt where he could hoist a few glasses of celebratory wine with his old friends?

Or was he curious enough to ask about the reason for his sudden freedom? Was he curious (and potentially grateful enough) to follow the crowds to the edge of town? To the side of the main road? To see the bloodied body of the Jesus who died in his place?

I wonder how Simon felt when he was asked to carry a cross intended for the staggering man surrounded by soldiers. Had he heard of Jesus? Had he met him before? Matthew tells us nothing, no details at all. But it is interesting, isn’t it, to realize that Jesus didn’t carry his cross alone?

The suffering continues and gets worse and worse. Jesus, the King of Kings, the Author of Existence, is treated like a king with his scarlet robes, his reed scepter, his royal title – not honored but beat, spit on, and taunted.

How about us? How do we treat our king? Do we follow Jesus to the cross or do we use our freedom to go party? Do we take up our cross and do our part or do we expect the Christian faith to be a snuggly blanket protecting us from the world?

Let us pray: All that you endured, O Lord, you endured for us. All that you suffered, O Lord, you suffered for us. Give us courage to follow, compassion to care, and the willingness to allow you to birth new life in and through us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Now at the festival the governor was accustomed to release a prisoner for the crowd, anyone whom they wanted. At that time they had a notorious prisoner, called Jesus Barabbas. So after they had gathered, Pilate said to them, “Whom do you want me to release for you, Jesus Barabbas or Jesus who is called the Messiah?” For he realized that it was out of jealousy that they had handed him over.

While he was sitting on the judgment seat, his wife sent word to him, “Have nothing to do with that innocent man, for today I have suffered a great deal because of a dream about him.”

Now the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus killed. The governor again said to them, “Which of the two do you want me to release for you?” And they said, “Barabbas.” Pilate said to them, “Then what should I do with Jesus who is called the Messiah?” All of them said, “Let him be crucified!” Then he asked, “Why, what evil has he done?” But they shouted all the more, “Let him be crucified!”

 So when Pilate saw that he could do nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took some water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves.” Then the people as a whole answered, “His blood be on us and on our children!” Matthew 27:15-25

Spirituality – at its best – brings a sense of deep connection, love, and gratitude toward God, others, and self. Religion – at its best – provides structure to our spirituality. It plants us deeply in human history and helps us grow to be both fully human and humane.

But if our spirituality gets twisted into idolatry – or if our religion gets reduced to a club for insiders – it can unleash a darkness within us that is both divisive and destructive.

Pilate served as the governor of Judea from 26-37 CE. He served at the behest of Emperor Tiberius, a reclusive, paranoid, reluctant emperor. Pilate’s duties in Judea ended in 37 CE, the same year that Tiberius died. Historians are unsure of how Tiberius was murdered – some stories say poisoning or by being smothered with his own bedclothes. But the consensus is that Caligula, Tiberius’s grand-nephew, who would succeed him, had a hand in the murder. Caligula would prove to be one of Rome’s most cruel and perverted emperors. He would reign less than four years before also being assassinated.

So much for a brief glimpse into the foxes who ruled the hen house. But all of this was much more than politics. For, in those days, the Roman cult of emperor worship was planted deeply into all of the areas where the Roman army kept the peace. Emperors were not just the heads of state, they were also “Pontifex Maximus”, the high priest of the Roman religion. Some emperors went so far as to proclaim themselves divine. The Son of God. Pilate was little more than a well-placed bureaucrat, but his authority was both political and, as far as the Romans were concerned, religious.

Matthew portrays Pilate even acting like a god in his little sphere of influence. “Releasing prisoners” and “sitting on the judgment seat” are ultimately God’s business. But Pilate takes it upon himself. From his “grand gesture” of releasing a prisoner during Passover to his abdication of his responsibility toward justice, “washing his hands” even as he handed Jesus over, Matthew is very careful not to lay blame exclusively on the Roman government for the death of Jesus even as he paints an unflattering portrait of Pilate’s role.

Jesus’ fate is finally in the hands of the crowds. I believe we hear this story best when we see ourselves – in every age – standing among those crowds. People who twist and distort spirituality/religion have used this story to justify centuries of antagonism toward Jews. That is absolutely wrong. If we say that “Jesus died for the sins of the world” then those crowds represent each and every one of us. Together, this story combines religion, government, and short-sighted crowds into one unholy trinity of injustice. The crowd chooses Jesus Barabbas.

Jesus chooses the crowds.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, sometimes during Lent we sing “beneath the cross of Jesus, I long to take my stand…” Today, and every day, help us see ourselves in those crowds. Help us see, in ourselves, the darkness of idolatry and twisted spirituality which would reject you and the love that you have for us. In that, we will also see the love and mercy which refuses to reject us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Now Jesus stood before the governor; and the governor asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus said, “You say so.” But when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he did not answer.

Then Pilate said to him, “Do you not hear how many accusations they make against you?” But he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed. Matthew 27:11-14

“You have the right to remain silent.” I learned those words watching an old TV show called “Dragnet.” It seems to me that it was often followed by a show about the FBI starring a guy named Efrem Zimbalist Jr. Even as a kid, that name fascinated me. It was a mouthful. And the stars of both shows were always straight shooters. They were honorable. They served and they protected. They were the authorities.

But they were TV shows. They weren’t real. Even today’s reality shows are not real. Real life is far more complicated. Crimes don’t get solved in 30 minutes. The majority of crimes aren’t even solved. Here in Houston, nearly half of all murderers “get away with it.” Of the 997 murders from January 2015 through June 2018 only 39% resulted in arrests and charges.

Most child abusers are family members or family friends. Most theft is from family. Many murders are criminals killing criminals.

And then there are the class and race issues. A higher percentage of people of color are in jail, often for less serious crimes, than white people. Jeffrey Epstein is in the news today. He sexually molested dozens, if not hundreds, of underage girls. How was it that his initial prison sentence was 13 months of “custody with work release” in a private wing of a Palm Beach county jail? He was rich and he knew the right people. His work release allowed him to go home for 12 hours a day, six days a week. That’s ju$tice?

Jesus was innocent. He didn’t do anything wrong. He didn’t break any Roman laws. Yet he was brought before Pilate. Pilate, the only name that appears in the Apostles’ Creed. Pilate knew full well that he was innocent. He could see clearly what was going on. He knew the players. And Jesus remained silent.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, as we remember the scene of you standing before Pilate, we can hear the discordant voices of your accusers. Our hearts tell us how important justice is, yet you were so unjustly taken and unjustly treated. You stood before Pilate and in that you identify not only with all of those who suffer injustice but all of those who stand aside and let it happen. All those who stand aside while making it happen. The brokenness of our lives will soon break you yet you suffered it all in silence. Silence. Amen.

When morning came, all the chief priests and the elders of the people conferred together against Jesus in order to bring about his death. They bound him, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate the governor.

When Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. He said, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” But they said, “What is that to us? See to it yourself.” Throwing down the pieces of silver in the temple, he departed; and he went and hanged himself.

But the chief priests, taking the pieces of silver, said, “It is not lawful to put them into the treasury, since they are blood money.” After conferring together, they used them to buy the potter’s field as a place to bury foreigners. For this reason that field has been called the Field of Blood to this day.

Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah, “And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of the one on whom a price had been set, on whom some of the people of Israel had set a price, and they gave them for the potter’s field, as the Lord commanded me.” Matthew 27:1-10

One person in this passage repents. One person demonstrates the willingness to reflect on their behaviors in light of what they believe about God and God’s will for life. One person changes his mind about Jesus.

There are powerful people in this passage. The chief priests and elders are religious authorities. They are experts regarding the scriptures. They “know their Bible through and through.” They don’t repent. They don’t change their minds about Jesus. All they do is hatch the plan to get rid of him.

Pilate is the local political authority. He only answers to Rome. God? Who cares about God? Rome is where the power lies and Pilate knows full well that all Rome really cares about is skimming all they can off the backs of the people they dominate. Pilate’s goal is control. “Justice” is whatever it takes to keep things “just as” Pilate wants them.

Only Judas repents. Only Judas changes his mind. Only Judas comes to see things differently. “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” Tragically, he recognizes Jesus’ innocence but he is incapable of seeing Jesus’ mercy extending even toward him.

The result? Jesus is on his way to the cross and even his betrayal proves redemptive as it provides a potter’s field, a place to bury foreigners. Matthew doesn’t want us to miss this point. Jesus is what God has been up to all along. Those most likely to miss the point are the powerful.

Let us pray: Jesus, you know the pain of betrayal. You know the pain of being cut off and cast aside. Yet, in your love, even this makes a place for those who would also be cast aside. Like Judas, we too have often realized the mistakes we have made along the way. Be merciful to us, that we might be merciful to ourselves. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Two others also, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him. When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” And they cast lots to divide his clothing.

And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!” The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.”

One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” Luke 23:32-43

Today we stand, together, under the cross.

Today we remember how our sin – our missing the mark, our real or imagined mistakes, what we have done or what we have left undone – has damaged every relationship in our lives. Has torn the fabric of creation. Has made life just a little more difficult than it already is.

We remember how our stomachs revolted when we made fun of other people, or bullied them, knowing it was wrong but doing it anyway. Just to get a laugh. Or to elevate ourselves. Or so we thought.

We remember our dishonesty. Our white lies. Our blatant, self protective, lies. The lies we told so often we began to believe them ourselves. Or so we thought. Greed. Lust. All that we deny and pretend and stuff.

We remember when people made fun of us. When people abandoned us. When people disappointed us. When people betrayed us.

We remember the self pride and the self loathing we connect to winning and losing. The social hierarchies that followed us from family to school to daily work to neighborhood. All of it, dust. All of it, distraction.

Jesus fell victim to both a political system based on power and domination and a religious system based on the very same things. “Love of country” is a dangerous cliche if it is not directly underscored with “love of people.” Jesus loved people. The powers of the people killed him. But still Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”

Jesus is giving us the benefit of the doubt on that one. Often we know exactly what we’re doing but we do it anyway.

Jesus didn’t die alone. Two criminals were crucified beside him. One came to faith. One is honest about his own brokenness, his own guilt. He is the one who asks that Jesus remember him in his kingdom. But the other rejects Jesus to the end.

So often we are reminded of all the changes of our lives, that nothing stays the same. But some things seem to never change. Here’s one: Some people cast Jesus aside. Today is just another day. Some people cast their hopes on Jesus. Today is the first day of their eternal lives.

This tension is what it feels like to stand with the crowds and the criminals at the foot of the cross.

Let us pray: Suffering, dying, loving, serving, creating, redeeming, sustaining God, take us today to the foot of the cross. Take us to a place where we recognize our own brokenness reflected in the broken body of a rejected Savior. Remember us, when you come into your kingdom. In Jesus’ name, the name above every name, Amen.

The point is this: the one who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and the one who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. Each of you must give as you have made up your mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance, so that by always having enough of everything, you may share abundantly in every good work. As it is written, “He scatters abroad, he gives to the poor; his righteousness endures forever.”

He who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed for sowing and increase the harvest of your righteousness. You will be enriched in every way for your great generosity, which will produce thanksgiving to God through us; for the rendering of this ministry not only supplies the needs of the saints but also overflows with many thanksgivings to God.

Through the testing of this ministry you glorify God by your obedience to the confession of the gospel of Christ and by the generosity of your sharing with them and with all others, while they long for you and pray for you because of the surpassing grace of God that he has given you. Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift! 2 Corinthians 9:6-15

This section of 2 Corinthians is like the broccoli or spinach of what Paul has to say about the place of financial generosity in the life of a follower of Jesus. It is chockful (a word I seldom say or use) of wisdom, encourage, and challenge – the spiritual nutrients of a balanced and fruitful Christian life.

But that’s not to say that we all love to eat our vegetables.

Like Paul said of himself in Romans 7, “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” We know the difference between greed and generosity. We know the difference between selfishness, selflessness, and self-care. We might even trust that God will take care of us. That God will “provide you with every blessing in abundance.” But that still might not be enough to guide us into a healthy life marked by balanced stewardship of our time, talents, and treasures.

But the biblical principles remain. They aren’t going anywhere. And they are true.

“The one who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and the one who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.” I have a friend who left a high paying sales job to follow his heart. He enrolled in an auto body program at a vocational technical school. Today he runs a garage restoring and rebuilding classic cars. He took a risk. He paid the joyful and sacrificial costs of his choice. He sowed bountifully and now reaps bountifully.

Where do we sow sparingly? What do we sow bountifully? Where to we invest our time, our skills, our passions, our hearts? Where and Who do we look to for security, for status, for power?

Notice the double blessing in Paul’s words. The generosity of the Corinthians will result in thanksgiving to God, and gratitude from those blessed by their generosity. Knowing we are a part of that is the “what’s in it for me?” side of Christian stewardship.

And finally, notice that Paul ends with his reminders that generosity is also an act of obedience. It is doing what we are supposed to do. Always with the realization that God always gives first.

Let us pray: Unleash generosity in our lives, that we might be obedient to you and a blessing to others. Keep us mindful of where and how we invest in the common good of the world and the personal good of our lives. Thank you for all the gifts you continue to give to us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Now it is not necessary for me to write you about the ministry to the saints, for I know your eagerness, which is the subject of my boasting about you to the people of Macedonia, saying that Achaia has been ready since last year; and your zeal has stirred up most of them. But I am sending the brothers in order that our boasting about you may not prove to have been empty in this case, so that you may be ready, as I said you would be; otherwise, if some Macedonians come with me and find that you are not ready, we would be humiliated—to say nothing of you—in this undertaking.

So I thought it necessary to urge the brothers to go on ahead to you, and arrange in advance for this bountiful gift that you have promised, so that it may be ready as a voluntary gift and not as an extortion. 2 Corinthians 9:1-5

Now we continue to follow Paul into the next chapter of his letter. Again he refers to the “brothers” who are working with him, it looks like they are his advance men.

That is particularly interesting to me because our congregation is in the midst of a capital finance campaign (which is why I’m writing so much about money), and capital campaigns usually begin with a quiet stage in which some people are invited into conversations about the goals of the campaign before the big kick off date. That stage makes sense because those people with the means to make large gifts might have some work to do ahead of time – sell real property, meet with their financial advisors, etc. But I think something deeper is going on.

As I do my work I find myself saying “Christianity is a team sport” so often that I sometimes think that I should create a macro on my computer so I can type the phrase with one key. The reason I say that so often is simple. Because Christianity really is a team sport. It is odd that we can forget that, but we do.

I remember back in the day when I used to be an athlete. Thinking back to any season of playing basketball reminds me of the life lessons of team sports. I never waited until the preseason to work on getting better. I did that almost every day. Once the team came together, from the first day, the coaches would remind us of our goals for the year. Knowing the goals helped make sense of all the little steps and drills and challenges it would take to get there.

The voices of the coaches mattered. But what really made a difference were the voices of my teammates. Communication was central to keeping everyone on the same page. We constantly encouraged each other, prodded each other to do our best. We consoled each other if we made a mistake or lost a game.

And when the season or the career ended – you hear ex-pro athletes say this all the time – what people really miss is the locker room, the comradery, the sense of “we’re all in this together” as we all tried to do our best every day.

When the first thing that Jesus did was to reach out to a few people to join him in his work I immediately remember “making the team” and that excitement and nervousness that came along with it. When I read about Paul sending the “brothers” out ahead, I can see them talking over a fire at night, deciding together what the best strategy will be for encouraging the Corinthians – and then following through and doing their best.

No one should be surprised to hear that teammates expect one another to produce! As wonderful as it might be to be ON a team, that isn’t the point. That is a means to an end, not an end in itself. The point of being ON a team is playing hard and smart FOR the team.

But being ON the team does participate in its own “end” because it takes a team to produce. No one can win by themselves. One season in Los Angeles has taught that to LeBron James. The win for the Christian faith is growing and healing and experiencing the spiritual power of community, of relationships with God and others, toward making the world a better, safer, more honest, more just, more humane world for all.

We need one another. And we need to encourage one another to do our best so that, together, we do our best. That’s why Christianity is a team sport.

Let us pray: Gracious Lord, you have called us by name. You have marked us with the cross forever. We are yours and we belong to one another, for the sake of the world. Keep us eager to do our best. In Jesus’ name. Amen.