Daily Devotions

¹What then are we to say was gained by Abraham, our ancestor according to the flesh? ²For if Abraham was justified by works, he has something to boast about, but not before God. ³For what does the scripture say? “Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness.”  Romans 4:1-3

What does it mean to live our lives “by faith”?

Usually someone will offer the argument that we have no choice but to live by faith.  All day long we use tools that we don’t understand.  I turn the key and expect my car to start whether or not I understand the dynamics of an internal combustion engine.

We exist in a natural world, the complexities of which we seldom even notice.

But the Bible uses the word “faith” in ways that surpass simply things we don’t notice or understand or fully grasp.  In the Bible, and in the Christian movement, “faith” is a much more relational word than an intellectual word.  It implies trust, loyalty, fidelity, love.

So we ask again – what does it mean to live our lives in trust, loyalty, fidelity, and love?  What practical, down to earth, real difference does that make?

I look back on my life and I realize that most of what I learned I learned by watching and learning from others.  I saw bigger kids ice skating and I copied their movements.  I listened to my teachers and learned new things even as I worked to please them with the results that came back to them through the tests they gave me.

And so it is that we look back to the characters and the stories of the Bible to capture what it has meant along the way to live by faith in God.  Through the month of August, our congregation is going to listen with new ears to the stories of the life and times of Abraham and Sarah.  We’re going to revisit stories that we probably heard long ago, listening and watching again to see what faith looks like.

In addition to the Sunday morning messages (available for live viewing or archived to watch later at http://faithbellaire.org/watch/), and All Church Learning between services, I’m also going to be sharing some thoughts each day to prime the pump of our learning.

Welcome to the journey as we walk together by faith.

Let us pray:  Dear Lord, come to us each day to guide us as we follow.  So many voices clamor for our attention.  Be our compass and our Guide, that we might follow in faith.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

When I came to you, brothers and sisters, I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God to you in lofty words or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. 1 Corinthians 2:1-2

I’m finally getting to a place in my life where I appreciate the mysteries of God, and of life.

When I was a kid I loved reading mysteries. “Nancy Drew”, “The Hardy Boys”, “The Bobbsey Twins”, were my earliest reading pleasures. Eventually I grew up to read Perry Mason and Sherlock Holmes and every other mystery novel I could find. I’m probably the only kid in my hometown who took a notebook to the card catalogue at the library so that I could write down every title they had in my favorite kind of books to make sure that I read very one.

But they were just stories. They were clever. But they weren’t real.

Later, college and seminary seduced me into thinking that there were people in the world who knew all the answers, who had the keys to unlock the mysteries of life. My quest became to master the information, to unlock the mysteries, to become one of those seductive masters. But I never got there. I’m no closer today than I was when I began.

And through all these years, life itself continued to unwind and unravel and turn and twist and surprise and shock and comfort me with mystery upon mystery. Events and circumstances and accidents and wonders.

Nothing in all of this makes much sense anymore because it doesn’t need to make sense. Sense is no longer the point because it never was. Love was the point. It always has been and always will be. Love. Connections. Surrender. Christ crucified.

Mystery today has become an invitation to me. An invitation to enter, to wonder, to explore, to be amazed. Asking the right questions has become so much more life giving than knowing the right answers.

Because, at the end of the day, what we know isn’t nearly as important as Who knows us.

Let us pray: Cloud us in the mystery of your love for us, O Lord. Cover us in misunderstanding and mystery, that we might be drawn ever closer to you and those you send into our lives, seeking not answers but communion, community, and love. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!”  John 20:26-28

“Peace be with you.”  This will always remain a shocking greeting.

“Peace be with you.”  “It’s OK.”  “Everything is alright.”  “Relax, we’re good.”  This is not what we expect to hear from Jesus as he greets his old friends.

The shock lies in the surprise.  We’ve been conditioned to expect something very different.  Jesus should be angry.  His friends deserted him.  No one stood up for him.  No protests were launched.  No secret Seal Team 6 rescue attempts were made.  It had been over a week and they still were too scared to be seen in public.

It seems that Jesus doesn’t speak “shame”.  He doesn’t put his friends down.  He meets their fear with his love.  “Peace be with you.”

Jesus always meets our fears, our limitations, our failures, even our misguided attempts to transcend ourselves….with love.

That’s enough for Thomas.  Jesus seems to have shown up just for him.  Jesus came to Thomas in the way that would work for Thomas.  His greeting was enough.  “Peace be with you” was met with “My Lord and my God!”

I trust that Jesus will meet you as well in the way that works for you.  He’ll just show up.  Even through the locked doors of your fears, your resentments, your unwillingness.  You’ll know him when he shows.  You’ll know the sound of his voice.  He’ll know your name.  And he will speak the language of love.

Let us pray:  For all who mistrust, for all who have given up, for all who need to see you, Jesus, we offer our prayers this morning.  Work the miracle of faith in their lives.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”  John 20:24-25

Sometimes you just want to see for yourself.

People are different from one another.  The Myers-Briggs test reveals 16 personality types.  It is very difficult for people of one type to really understand how life looks and from the perspective of a different type.  Some are highly intuitive – they just “know” things and have no idea how it is that they know them.  Others need facts, numbers, data points, sensory inputs.

Thomas wanted to see for himself.

So do I.

Sure, we live by faith.  We accept certain things we cannot see.  We realize that doubt is the ants in the pants of faith.  Certainty, in a rapidly changing self located within a rapidly changing world, where you never will ever get all the evidence on anything ever, is an oasis.  An illusion.

But aren’t there ways to see for ourselves short of certainty?

I’m thinking that one of the keys is actually looking.  Making some effort to see.

Jesus said, “Ask, and it will be given you.  Seek, and you shall find.  Knock, and the door will be opened for you.”  He also said, “Seek first the kingdom of God.”

So yes, I want to see for myself.  The question is…am I willing to do the seeking?

Let us pray:  Gracious Lord, we still live in the shadows of the light of Easter Sunday morning.  Inspire us to seek for you in all things, that we might see you for ourselves.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”  John 20:19-23

The Prairie Home Cemetery was just across 8^th street from the college I attended.  (Legend has it that it was the inspiration behind Garrison Keillor’s radio show.)  My college advisor used to joke that every Friday night just before campus curfew turned that cemetery into Easter Sunday as heads would pop up from behind tombstones all over the place.  That was something I never noticed nor participated in.

But I have witnessed the wonders of congregational resurrections greeting Easter Sunday morning.  We had such an experience this weekend as the church was packed.  We ran out of bulletins.  We ran out of parking spaces.  We nearly ran out of bread.

While I love Easter Sunday morning, there is always something that feels a little incongruous to me.

That first Easter found the disciples huddled away in fear behind a locked.  Their hope was gone.  Then Jesus shows up with words of peace.  The mission of the church – loving, forgiving, witnessing, serving – begins.

I counter that with our modern experience.  Everyone in their Easter best.  The church doors wide open.  People are smiling, looking forward to worship.  The pastor succumbs (as I did) to the temptation to preach especially to the folks who only attend a couple of times a year, hopefully in such a manner as to encourage them to really get on board.  Which the “regulars” love but which usually leaves the “occasionals” feeling shamed and thus justified in staying away.  And the pastor Monday morning quarterbacking himself or herself…  Either way, it is a far cry from the loving simplicity of Jesus’ “Peace be with you.”

That first Easter felt like something new was beginning.  Today it tempts us into feeling like we really accomplished something.

In fact, we did.  We praised God for letting us in on the secret that lies at the center of the universe.  There is more to life than meets the eye.  There is less to death than we fear.  We are not alone and life will ever be a mystery.  And now we have work to do.

Let us pray:  Dear Lord, thank you for another day of life, living in the loving purposes for which you created us.  Thank you for old friends and new friends.  Thank you for the promise of peace.  And thank you that what you do through us in the world matters.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

Now when Pilate heard this, he was more afraid than ever. He entered his headquarters again and asked Jesus, “Where are you from?” But Jesus gave him no answer. Pilate therefore said to him, “Do you refuse to speak to me? Do you not know that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?” Jesus answered him, “You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above; therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.” From then on Pilate tried to release him, but the Jews cried out, “If you release this man, you are no friend of the emperor. Everyone who claims to be a king sets himself against the emperor.”

When Pilate heard these words, he brought Jesus outside and sat on the judge’s bench at a place called The Stone Pavement, or in Hebrew Gabbatha. Now it was the day of Preparation for the Passover; and it was about noon. He said to the Jews, “Here is your King!” They cried out, “Away with him! Away with him! Crucify him!” Pilate asked them, “Shall I crucify your King?” The chief priests answered, “We have no king but the emperor.”  Then he handed him over to them to be crucified.  John 19:8-16

There is a lot of killing in this world.

“Battlefield” seems a nostalgic memory as we read about Afghanistan, Pakistan, Syria, Sudan, Yemen, Somalia, Mali, Burma, Thailand, and Nigeria.  The old rules intended to keep some semblance of sanity to armed conflicts have fallen by the wayside.  “Unarmed non-combatants” is no longer a category.

A movie theater.  An elementary school.  A university campus.  A political speech.  A street.  A playground.  A home.

What are we doing?  What are we hoping to accomplish?

What is it that rages inside of us that eventually erupts, spewing forth our desperation down to our clenched fist or trigger finger?

How can people, even, especially, religious people, not see the incongruity in ignoring God’s “You shall not kill” behind whatever the latest version of “We have no king but the emperor” happens to be?

Were we to pluck Jesus out of history and put him back in any age, the story wouldn’t change.  Our desire to be our own little gods with our own little kingdoms would be the same.  People with power, legally sanctioned or not, would be there to do the bidding of the crowd.  Politicians with one wet finger in the air would still settle for peace and quiet rather than peace and justice.  Jesus’ way of being in the world would still be rejected.

Make room in your life today to sit before the cross.  Do it in a house of worship.  It doesn’t matter if you’re driving to Grandma’s house for Easter…you will pass by many churches with a blacked out cross on your way.  Don’t let this day pass you by.

Sit before the cross today and listen to what it tells you.

You’ll hear the groaning of creation.  Every cry that has pierced the night.  You’ll see every tear that has fallen in pain.  Every misguided attempt to wrest control over life.  Every twisted path of destruction.

At the heart of it, you will see God’s heart of love.  And just perhaps a new-found willingness to walk Jesus’ way of being in the world despite its costs.

Let us pray:  Lord Jesus, may we see today that your surrender to the cross is the victory of your love.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!”  John 13:6-8

Peter said to Jesus, “You will never wash my feet.”

How do we hear those words?

On the one hand, they shed a soft glow of friendship and devotion on Peter. He doesn’t want to see Jesus humiliate himself.

Foot-washing was a common practice in the ancient world.  In a world where walking was the primary form of transportation, a world without concrete sidewalks and asphalt roads, a world without modern medicines, an injury to your feet could lead to a potentially deadly infection.  Taking good care of your feet was essential.

In a world where the vast majority of people lived in the social caste of slavery, even relatively modest homes could greet guests with a servant prepared to wash their feet upon entering the house. 

Peter didn’t want to see Jesus stoop down to the level of a foot-washing servant.  But Jesus sensed something different going on.  Something more deadly than a foot infection.

In seeking to defend Jesus, Peter risked missing out on the benefits of Jesus’ love.  Peter didn’t see how his defense of Jesus demonstrated Peter’s own unconscious inner caste system.  For to Peter, to wash another’s feet was demeaning. Peter also thought of himself as “above” a common house servant.  So Peter rejected what Jesus was offering. 

How often, in our confession, though our mouths say the right words, do we still maintain the illusion that we are “better” than others?  Or, while seemingly more pious, do we harbor the fear that we are “worse” than others?  Can we see, in either, how such thoughts thus place us in judgment over Jesus?

Jesus alone is King, everyone else stands at the foot of the cross.  Jesus stoops to wash feet, commanding us all to see the reality that we are all servants of one another.  There are no levels.  Better and worse are categories that don’t apply.  Life happens only on two levels – incarnate love revealed on a cross and expressed in service to others.

Let us pray:  Dear Lord, on this Maundy Thursday we pray that you reveal to our hearts and minds the good news of your love for us.  That while we are yet sinners, still you died for the ungodly, for all, for us.  May this love propel us to lives of gratitude and service.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

So again Jesus said to them, ‘Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.  John 10:7-10

My mornings used to begin with sitting quietly, wondering what in the world I could say about a passage from the Bible that morning that might be valuable in someone’s life that day.  I look back now at that time in my life with amazement.  Years of early mornings.

And then it stopped.  Caught up in the rush of life.  Accommodating myself to changes in calls and changes to routines and the sudden awareness that time was slipping away.  It just stopped.

Over the course of Lent this year I have enjoyed reading the little snippets of the faith lives of people I love in the congregation that I now serve.  I’ve read their words and each day remembered when I used to begin my days writing.  And I have realized that I forgot the original purpose for writing devotions and the blessings they became.

I forgot that I started writing them to hold myself accountable to listening to the Word every morning.  Instead, now I read the news – which always feels like the same bad news over and over and over again.

I forgot that, every once in awhile, God used my willingness to write to bless someone out there in a profound way that I will never know.  Knowing it was possible was enough.

So I got up early Monday morning with hopes of writing something worthwhile.  My mind was a blank.  I did the same yesterday.  Same result.

Now I realize that I had forgotten something else.  I was hoping that I would come up with something to say.  I had forgotten that, at least for me, writing is something that comes to me in a flash of God-given inspiration.  It isn’t something that I carefully craft.  Something comes and I type as feverishly fast as I can until it is on paper.

So, this morning, instead of pressuring myself to write, I read a book written by a colleague of mine.  It was a mid-Holy Week blessing.  The only way I can express my gratitude for having read her words is to write some of my own.

Welcome to Holy Week.  May God bless you with time in the company of strangers all gathered to worship the One who knows us by name, Whose voice we recognize when it calls.  May your journey through the days to come rekindle in you that blessed love that continues to hold you close.

Let us pray:  Gracious Lord, lead us now through these days of peace, pain, and promise.  Come to us as we come to you in worship.  Resurrect what is best in us and invite us to leave the rest at the cross.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

Our devotions this Lenten season have been written by members of Faith Lutheran Church.  Today’s devotion is by Gene and Karen Ellison.  Also, if you would like to join our staff in praying the liturgy for Responsive Prayer/Suffrages just click here.

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.  He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him.  John 1:6-11

Have you ever been in a situation where someone introduces you to someone else? You exchange names, maybe shake hands and move along.  Within 3 minutes you have forgotten the name of the person you just met.  Why is that?

You heard their name, you repeated their name and you shook hands. Were you really listening, were you thinking about something else, maybe what this new acquaintance is thinking about you.  Why do we sometimes have difficulty meeting and remembering someone?  Maybe if we fully open ourselves to receive someone, we will truly receive and remember them.

In John 1:6-11 we hear how John the Baptist was sent by God to testify to the light that was Jesus, so that through him al might believe.  Jesus was in the world, the world he created, yet the world did not recognize him.  God sent John to introduce Jesus but just like our introduction that goes for naught, the same happened to the light of the world.

Let us pray:  God, please open our hearts to receive you.  Let us believe in the name of Jesus so that we can become children of God.   Amen.

Our devotions this Lenten season have been written by members of Faith Lutheran Church.  Today’s devotion is by Paul Baerenwald.  Also, if you would like to join our staff in praying the liturgy for Responsive Prayer/Suffrages just click here.

The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he

began to teach them many things. When it grew late, his disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now very late; send them away so that they may go into the surrounding country and villages and buy something for themselves to eat.” But he answered them, “You give them something to eat.” They said to him, “Are we to go and buy two hundred denarii worth of bread, and give it to them to eat?” And he said to them, “How many loaves have you? Go and see.” When they had found out, they said, “Five, and two fish.” Then he ordered them to get all the people to sit down in groups on the green grass. So they sat down in groups of hundreds and of fifties. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to his disciples to set before the people; and he divided the two fish among them all. And all ate and were filled; and they took up twelve baskets full of broken pieces and of the fish. Those who had eaten the loaves numbered five thousand men.  Mark 6:30-44

The disciples were tired and looking forward to rest – we can certainly empathize – yet when the crowd appeared, Jesus didn’t send them away, he had compassion on them.  He taught them.  They needed their shepherd; they needed nourishment for their souls and he provided.

When they needed nourishment for their bodies the disciples resisted, looking for an excuse.  Send them away.  It would be too expensive!  Yet in Christ all things are possible.  Five loaves and two fish became more than enough to feed 5000 – with leftovers!  It may not have looked like much but with God, little equals unlimited potential.

Like the disciples, we resist.  We have better things to do, we’re tired, it will be too expensive.  We search for excuses, but Christ insists, “You give them something to eat.”  He asks us to lay aside our objections and let him be our shepherd, providing for us what we need, and through his example he asks us to do the same for each other.  Have compassion.  Have faith!  Let him take what may seem insignificant and turn it into something astounding, just as he did with the bread and fish.

With God little is much.

Let us pray:  Lord God, break down our resistance.  Give us compassion to help those in need and let us see that through You all things are possible, that through You little is much.  Amen.