December 7--God's Generous Patience

"This point must not be overlooked, dear friends: in the eyes of the most High, one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. God does not delay in keeping the promise, as some mean "delay." Rather, God shows you generous patience, desiring that no one perish but that all come to repentance. . . . Consider our God's patience as your opportunity for salvation" (2 Peter 3:8-9, 15).

A wise woman mentor of mine once warned me never to pray for patience. "You will be given far too many opportunities to practice it," she said. "Best to just make it clear to the Almighty that this is one lesson you have no need of learning." I believed her, and I still do. I have never, ever, prayed for patience.

Unfortunately, it does not seem to matter whether or not we actually adopt patience as a posture of prayer. We still have far too many opportunities to practice it!

Whether we are waiting for a new job or a new baby . . . whether we are waiting for a renewed sense of purpose or a renewed financial stability . . . whether we are waiting for a reversal of discrimination or an end to an abusive relationship . . . whether we are waiting for an organ transplant or the lifting of an ever deepening depression . . . whether we are waiting for an estranged child to call or a lingering grief to thaw . . . we wait, and we wait, and we wait.

And we pray.

But we do not pray for patience in any of these situations! We pray for justice! We pray for healing! We pray for protection! We pray for purpose! We pray for the present unbearability to pass from our path. We pray for "new heavens and a new earth where, according to the promise, God's justice will reside" (2 Peter 3:13). We pray for peace. We pray for hope. We pray for strength. We are tired of waiting. We are tired of waiting. Every day is like a thousand years.


The first century Christians receiving Peter's second letter were tired of waiting, too. They had joined the Jesus movement expecting the Savior's immediate return, thank you very much! They had been preparing for that new heaven and new earth right away, not years or decades, or generations away. They had taken great personal risks to join this cause of justice and righteousness, but they were getting antsy as they waited and waited and waited. Now false teachers exploited their frustrations, taunting them to give up hope in a message that seemed so clearly wrong . . . or at least outdated.

Taunting them into despair.

Jesus is never going to come back, the false prophets say. Justice is never going to reign. Good news will never win over evil. Healing is never going to come. A purpose-driven life will always evade us. A dead-end relationship is all we deserve. Only the ruthlessly ambitious can garner wealth or power. Violence is just the way of the world.

The false teachers are around us still--are they not?--nagging at our hopes for God's peaceable kingdom. From within and from without they taunt us with feelings of incompetence, inadequacy, powerlessness. Why bother preparing ourselves for God's eternal reign, if they are right? Why bother living holy lives in service to God and others, if Jesus has yet to return? Why bother dedicating our talents to the kingdom, if the kingdom is just an illusion? We have had such grand visions. The reality seems so very far away.

"But do not forget this one thing, dear friends," Peter says to them and to us, as well. "To God one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years is as one day. God is not slow in doing what God promised--the way some people understand slowness. But God is being patient with you. God does not want anyone to be lost but wants all people to change their hearts and lives."


Wait a second. God is being patient with us? God is waiting for us? God is taking forever (quite literally) in order to help us? It sure doesn't feel that way most of the time!


But I guess that's the point, isn't it? God is the one praying for patience, not us. God knows how much better we can do with what we have been given. God wants us to change our hearts and minds, to commit once again to the peaceable kingdom. God wants to give us a chance to get it right this time.

God wants us to open our eyes and celebrate the abundance we have been given, rather than languish in despair over what we think we have lost. God wants us to claim the best parts of our lives for our work and our companions, rather than succumbing to the worst that is in us. God wants us to offer a healing touch or a gentle word to someone in need, rather than leave them to wallow in their own sadness. God wants us to stand in active resistance to injustice and violence and greed and despair, rather than passively accept the status quo. God wants us to "look for the coming of the Day of God, and try to hasten it along" (2 Peter 3:12)!

The patience God prays for--the patience God asks of us--is not about sitting around on our rears praying for someone else to usher in the kingdom. The patience God asks of us is about active waiting, determined preparation, steadfast hope in the face of every reason to despair. God made a promise to us. And God does not break promises.

Our Advent discipline is the practice of trusting this promise, of changing the parts of our hearts and our lives that depart from this promise, of praying for the courage to hasten this promise, and of opening our eyes to recognize it when it comes. Of opening our eyes to recognize when it is already here.

"Do not be carried away by the errors of unprincipled people and thus forfeit the security you enjoy," Peter concludes. "Instead, grow in the grace and knowledge of our Sovereign and Savior Jesus Christ, who is glorified now and for all eternity."

May it be so for each of us, as we prepare once again for the birth of Christ. Amen.


Gusti Linnea Newquist


(additional lectionary texts: Isaiah 40:1-11; Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13; Mark 1:1-8)

November 30--Rich in Every Way

"Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

"I always thank my God for you because of the grace God has given you in Christ Jesus. I thank God because in Christ you have been made rich in every way, in all your speaking and in all your knowledge. Just as our witness about Christ has been guaranteed to you, so you have every gift from God while you wait for our Lord Jesus Christ to come again. Jesus will keep you strong until the end so that there will be no wrong in you on the day our Lord Jesus Christ comes again. God, who has called you into fellowship with his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, is faithful" (1 Corinthians 1:3-9)


It feels good to hear that someone is grateful for who you are, simply as a human being. Those of us who have trouble accepting compliments may shrug away such glowing words of praise. Those of us who have been taught to be "humble" may hear it as idolatry. Those of us who know we have messed up big time may hear it as a cosmic joke. "I always thank my God for you. . . . you have been made rich in every way . . . you have every gift from God while you wait."

And those of us who have lost our retirement portfolios or our jobs or even our homes may hear it as a lie.

We used to be "rich in every way," we might think. We used to "have every gift from God" while we waited. We used to be thankful for abundance on Thanksgiving. Now we enter the holiday season with flattened wallets and heightened fears and a sense of dread about how long we have to "wait" until things get back to normal. Advent this year--the season of active waiting--may be less about preparing for the eternal reign of God and more about figuring out how to ride out a recession (or worse).

How do we hear Paul's words of gratitude if we are anxious, if we are sinful, if we are humble, if we are full of self-doubt?

"I always thank my God for you because of the grace God has given you in Christ Jesus. I thank God because in Christ you have been made rich in every way, in all your speaking and in all your knowledge."

God has given us grace, Paul says to the first century Christians at Corinth. God has given us grace, Paul says to twenty-first century Christians around the world. We have been graced by God, in Jesus Christ. We are rich in God's grace. We are rich when we know this grace and when we speak it. The gift of grace will keep us strong as we wait. It will help us know the faithfulness of God. This is why Paul is thankful for us.

But what is this gift? What is this grace, in which we are rich?

Grace often refers to mercy, of course, to the gift of restoration after repentance. But it is also a dynamic gift of faithful living that, according to Charles Campbell, "creates a new kind of community--one in which the divisions and hierarchies of the world no longer function." Grace is, in short, the very kingdom of God among us, the very thing we claim to be waiting for!

In the rest of Paul's letter to the Corinthians, he outlines what that new kind of community should look like . . . and holds the Corinthians accountable for falling short. They are divided among themselves (1:10-15), they are puffed up with pride and arrogance(4:6), they emphasize wealth disparities within the community (11:22), they have yet to learn how to love one another (13:1-13).

We, too, fall so very short of the kingdom community. We, too, are divided, puffed up, full of economic disparity, yet to learn how to love as God loves. But we are graced. We are forgiven. We are empowered to live a new life together. We are, indeed, rich in every way. Our fears and our wrong-doing and our self-doubt will not keep us from the riches of God. They are, instead, opportunities to embrace what we have had all along. They are opportunities to acknowledge God's grace.

The faithfulness--the grace--of God will indeed endure forever. In Advent, we prepare ourselves to receive that grace. We begin by acknowledging how very much we need it, and then by saying "thank you," to God and to the community that teaches us how to love one another.

May we use this season to cultivate that gratitude and to share it with the world.

Amen.



Gusti Linnea Newquist


Additional lectionary focus (Isaiah 64:1-9; Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19; Mark 13:24-37)

November 23--Admitting Our Need

"Anything you did for even the least of my people here, you also did for me" (Mt 25:40)

(Lectionary Focus: Matthew: 25:31-46)


It is Tuesday of Holy Week in the chronological setting of this week's gospel lectionary text. At the moment, it may be hard for us to place ourselves there in our minds. For us, after all, it is the end of the liturgical year, the Sunday before Thanksgiving, the week before Advent. The Tuesday of Holy Week seems very far away.

But in the context of one of the most famous Christian parables--the one before us today--it is Tuesday of Holy Week. Just two days ago, Jesus entered Jerusalem triumphantly, igniting the enthusiasm of disciple and stranger alike. Just yesterday, Jesus turned over the tables in the Temple and threw out the money changers and healed the blind and the lame. Just this morning, Jesus taught in the Temple using stories to explain the coming reign of God while hotly debating theological assumptions with Pharisees and Sadducees.

Just a few minutes ago, Jesus warned us--his disciples--of the persecution yet to come. We still do not understand he is talking about the cross. We still do not know our Jerusalem mission will end in defeat. We still do not know the rebirth of hope the resurrection will bring.

It is Tuesday of Holy Week. That place in between the joy of Palm Sunday, the agony of Good Friday, and the exultation of Easter.

From this in-between place, Jesus offers a vision of the kingdom of God, the last one recorded by Matthew before the Passion begins. "I was hungry, and you gave me food. I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink. I was alone and away from home, and you invited me into your home. I was without clothes, and you gave me something to wear. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me" (Mt 25:35-36).


It is the clarion call for Christians around the world and for many of us, the essence of our faith. When people are in need, you help them, especially the ones with the least access to power and resources. "Anything you did for even the least of my people here, you also did for me" (Mt 25:40).

And it is true that we should always read this parable as a call to serve the most vulnerable, in our communities and around the world, as a direct way of serving Christ. Even when we worry for our own economic future. Especially when we worry for our own economic future.

But it is also true that Jesus, himself--in a very literal way--will be hungry and thirsty, naked and in prison, in the days following this Tuesday of Holy Week. Jesus, himself--the strong leader, the very son of God, the one we have always expected to help us--will very literally need us to help him. And most of us will fail to recognize how very much he needs us until it is too late.

"I was hungry, and you gave me nothing to eat. I was thirsty, and you gave me nothing to drink. I was alone and away from home, and you did not invite me into your house. I was without clothes, and you gave me nothing to wear. I was sick and in prison, and you did not care for me" (Mt 25:42-43).


It is not always easy to recognize the need in those we expect to be strong. It is not always easy to recognize the need in those who have always responded to our need. We are so used to seeing them as the ones who do have everything that we cannot always see what they lack.


And it may be even more difficult to admit we have become the one in need if we are accustomed to being the one who always helps others. It may be even more difficult to admit the true financial consequences of losing our job if we have always expected job security. It may be even more difficult to admit the weakness that accompanies an illness if we have always expected vigorous health. It may be even more difficult to admit the crushing burden of our ever-mounting debt if we have always expected the resources to pay it off. It may be even more difficult to admit the depth of loneliness that paralyzes our thoughts if we have always expected a community of support.

If we are accustomed to serving others as "the least of these," how very hard it is to humble ourselves to receive such service in return.

But Jesus models that, too, in the chapter following our lectionary.

It is Wednesday of Holy Week. One more day before betrayal and imprisonment. One day after the parable about the "least of these." A woman approaches Jesus with an alabaster jar filled with expensive perfume and pours every last drop of it onto his soon-to-be-crucified body. Yet when the disciples complain that the money should have been given to the poor, Jesus rebukes them, admitting his own need. "This woman poured perfume on my body to prepare me for burial," he declares. "I tell you the truth, wherever the Good News is preached in all the world, what this woman has done will be told, and people will remember her" (Mt 26:12-13). The "least of these" really is Jesus, the one we expect to be strong. A woman sees his need and fills it, sparing no cost to herself. But the disciples are blind, and later run away.

"Anything you refused to do for even the least of my people here, you refused to do for me" (Mt 25:45).


I would suggest that our invitation this week, as we turn toward Thanksgiving, is to open our eyes beyond our common assumptions about the image of Christ who is hungry and thirsty, naked and alone, sick and in prison. Yes, there are the obvious places, and we should never ever neglect them. But the deepest needs of another person may not be as obvious as we think. We may actually find "the least of these" in that strong leader among us, who cries out for help but is misunderstood by the ones who claim to know him or her best. If we are honest, we may even find "the least of these" to be ourselves.


May God grant us eyes to see and ears to hear and mouths to express the depth of our need, and then grant us the ability to respond. Amen.


Gusti Linnea Newquist


(additional lectionary texts for this week: Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24; Psalm 100; Ephesians 1:15-23)

November 16--The Only Thing We Have to Fear

"Master, I knew that you were a hard man. You harvest things you did not plant. You gather crops where you did not sow any seed. So I was afraid and went and hid your money in the ground." --Matthew 25: 24-25a.

(Lectionary focus: Matthew 25:14-30)

I've been reading the prophets lately, as they cycle their way through the daily lectionary. The harsh words of the LORD through the prophet Zephaniah have hounded me this week: "I will punish those who are satisfied with themselves," our God says to ancient Israel. "Their wealth will be stolen and their houses destroyed. They may build houses, but they will not live in them. They may plant vineyards, but they will not drink any wine from them. The LORD's day of judging is coming soon; it is near and coming fast" (Zephaniah 1:12-13).

No wonder the servant is scared! If the prophets are right, there’s not much that angers God more than the people of God mishandling our wealth.

The self-satisfied spending of elite biblical Israel, after all, led to a radical day of reckoning at the hands of a foreign empire, centuries before the time of Christ and his presentation of this parable. Investment in exotic luxury items at the expense of the most vulnerable rendered the whole people of God susceptible to foreign assault . . . and ultimately the victims of outright exile. It makes sense that the servant several hundred years later would see wealth as so dangerous. Better, indeed, to avoid it altogether. Better, indeed, to make sure it stayed safe.

And it’s not just an Old Testament sentiment, either. The entire Book of Revelation anticipates a cataclysmic economic collapse of the great Roman Empire as God’s righteous response to their incessant greed. The letter of James, too, warns the rich that their gold and silver “will eat your bellies like fire” (5:3). The First Epistle to Timothy reminds us that “the love of money is the root of all evil” (6:10).

So why would Jesus choose to describe the kingdom of heaven in terms of so much wealth? A talent, after all, could fund one worker for fifteen years. Two talents for thirty. Five talents for 75!

It’s not God’s abundance that’s the problem, Jesus suggests in this parable. It’s our gratitude for it . . . our acknowledgement of it . . . and our stewardship with it.

Because we still do have talent, both the monetary kind and the human ability kind. We have quite a lot of it, actually. Some of us have enough to fund thirty or even 75 years. Others of us have just a single dose, just enough for fifteen. But even one talent is a whole lot of money for a first-century worker dependent on his boss for his daily bread. And even one talent is a whole lot ability for the twenty-first century worker desperate for a job. And every talent, invested well, will double in return. This is the one certainty of God’s market economy.

It is natural to fear for our basic economic survival. It is natural to fear our mishandling of wealth. Even the euphoria of a dramatic presidential election emphasizes in its wake our deepest anxieties about money. Has our wealth been stolen--or will it be soon? Have our houses been destroyed--or will they be soon? Have our jobs been lost--or will they be soon? The economic agenda is the nation's agenda, the world's agenda. The parable of the talents could not be more relevant.

We can bury God’s gifts of talent and treasure and face a wrath even worse than that of the prophets. Or we can take what we have, invest it in the common good, and double our wealth in service to God. The choice is ours in the weeks and months ahead. May we make the choice of faith, acknowledging our fears before God, and trusting God’s everlasting abundance.
Amen.

Gusti Linnea Newquist

(additional lectionary texts for this week: Judges 4:1-7; Psalm 123; 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11)

November 9--Always a Bridesmaid

“At that time the kingdom of heaven will be like ten bridesmaids who took their lamps and went to wait for the bridegroom.” –Mt 25:1


(lectionary focus: Mt 25:1-13)


A well-meaning family member recently gave my older cousin a self-help book: Find a Husband After Thirty-Five (using what I learned at Harvard Business School). We rolled our eyes and groaned when we saw it . . . then of course devoured it cover to cover! A twelve-month plan for the thirty-something singleton to get herself to the altar with the man of her dreams. “Saturation” tips for online dating. Research development for “product improvement.” Culminating in, believe it or not, a full-scale “marketing plan” with an upscale product roll-out, advertising strategy, and “man-agement” training. This has got to be a recession-proof industry if I’ve ever seen one!

Of course, preparing for the Son of Man is something quite different than slogging through the dating scene in search of a mere mortal. We’re talking about an apocalyptic event to usher in a new era of justice and peace, where the last shall be first and the powerful shall be humbled and the oppressed shall be set free. We’re talking about a radical reversal of fortunes that terrifies some and liberates others. We’re talking about an event that most of us say we want but that few of us believe might actually happen in our lifetimes. We’re talking about a serious theological commitment to the power of God to transform the world, not frivolous romantic yearnings exploited by a consumer culture.

But that’s just the point, isn’t it? It’s exactly the point.

Jesus has asked us to seek this coming reign of God with the same intensity and passion and longing with which we seek a life partner. Jesus has asked us to long for this radical re-orienting of the entire cosmos with the same dedication and yearning with which we crave human companionship. And Jesus has demanded that we stop sulking around in our loneliness and despair—to stop waiting for the fantasy of the peaceable kingdom to drop magically out of the sky—and instead get off of our rears and out of the house and actually do something to make the world ready for its arrival.

We do not know when this event will actually take place. We just know that it has been promised, as if a betrothal. And we know that we want it desperately. In the meantime, Jesus has asked us to do whatever it takes to be prepared for this coming reign of God, including using what we can learn from Harvard Business School!

So what might that something be? How might we keep our lamps trimmed and burning? How might we roll out our marketing plan in preparation for God’s eternal reign?

Maybe we can get started by doing some of the other things Jesus asked us to do, like feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the imprisoned, and healing the sick. Maybe we can get started by committing ourselves over and over again to a culture of peace and a forgiveness of debts. Maybe we can get started by committing ourselves over and over again to loving our enemies and praying for those who persecute us. Maybe we can get started by taking one small step at a time to love God and to love neighbor.

The wise bridesmaids among us will know that this takes hard work and dedication, that we will need to replenish our oil, that we will need to seek support from our companions on the journey. The foolish among us may think it’s just a romantic getaway, rather than a lifelong commitment through the good times and the bad.

We all get tired as we wait for The One, preparing for a kingdom that is already here but yet to come in fullness. But we can do what it takes to make sure we have enough oil to keep us going after we've fallen asleep. Because the longed-for consummation will finally come, even if it seems so incredibly impossible. And it will be a joyous feast for everyone to share.

“So always be ready, because you do not know the day or the hour the Son of Man will come.” For now, we are all bridesmaids waiting for the groom. But one day soon we will all be brides. Amen.



Gusti Linnea Newquist



(additional lectionary texts: Joshua 24:1-3a, 14-25; Psalm 78:1-7; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18)