April 25 -- Life's Volcanoes

This week's lectionary texts: Acts 9:36-43, Psalm 23, Revelation 7:9-17, and John 10:22-30.


At the time of this writing, the Eyjafjallajokull volcano in Iceland is continuing to wreck havoc on airline travel to and from a number of European nations. Sending ash several miles into the sky, the volcanic eruption has forced the cancellation of tens of thousands of flights, and stranded hundreds of thousands of people. Everyone hopes that the volcano will soon calm down enough to allow for normal air travel to resume, but experts simply don’t know when the intriguingly named Efjafjallajokull will stop erupting (indeed, in 1821, the volcano began erupting for nearly two years!).

Events like the eruption of this volcano in Iceland remind us that our globalized world has become deeply interconnected – we have become incredibly reliant on easy and swift travel, and the loss of the convenience to which we are accustomed has thrown the whole world for a loop.

Furthermore, we are forced to realize that, at the end of the day, we are not in control. We can plan and plan all we want – and, to be sure, there is nothing wrong with making plans to try to achieve our hopes and dreams. But there will be inevitably be unexpected hiccups, fortuitous coincidences, terrible tragedies, beautiful surprises. We can’t make the volcano in Iceland stop erupting any more than we can ensure that our lives will go exactly according to plan – things just don’t work that way.

But even when we grant that life is unpredictable – in ways both bad and good – we can be confident in the continuity and steadfastness of one thing: God’s deep and abiding love for every one of us. This week’s lectionary texts explain that in the midst of uncertainty, we can rely on God to be our shepherd, to bring us through life’s unexpected joys and pains, and to even bring life out of death.

Psalm 23 is almost certainly the most famous of the 150 psalms. In beautiful, poetic language, the psalmist reflects upon the loving care that God had given him. As he writes,

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures;

he leads me beside still waters;

he restores my soul.

He leads me in right paths

for his name’s sake.” (Psalm 23:1-3)

The psalmist trusts God – trusts that God will lead him to safety. He furthers, “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff – they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4). The psalmist has known pain and trod dangerous paths – but he recognizes that God only wants the best for him. He closes with a powerful reflection on God’s provision: “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long” (Psalm 23:6)

Meanwhile, in Revelation, we read of an eschatological vision in which God has utterly delivered God’s people “from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages” (Revelation 7:9). Angels and elders and strange creatures: all are worshiping and blessing God. John then writes about what he is told regarding God’s people in this new eschatological reality:

“They will hunger no more, and thirst no more;

the sun will not strike them,

nor any scorching heat;

for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd,

and he will guide them to springs of the water of life,

and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” (Revelation 7:16-17)

God is revealed once again to be a God of delightful contradiction and paradox, for Jesus, the Lamb of God, has become the shepherd, just as he embodies divinity and humanity, leadership and servanthood, power and humility.

In the gospel of John, we read this week that Jesus took seriously his role as shepherd of his people. Accosted by those who wanted to know definitively whether or not he was the Messiah, Jesus explained that he had told them – they simply did not believe. As he went on, he added, “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand” (John 10:27-28).

We are promised, indeed, that God has great plans for us through Christ. We are not assured that our lives will be easy – after all, Revelation states the God will “wipe away every tear from [our] eyes,” implying that none of us will make it through this messy and beautiful life without enduring struggles and pains. But Christ has promised to take care of us – he will never let go of us. Understanding that we are known intimately and loved dearly by Christ can help carry us through the unexpected moments in our lives, even when we can’t imagine what is coming next.

In Acts, we read about a woman called Tabitha, a disciple of Christ “devoted to good works and acts of charity” (Acts 9:36). Tabitha grows ill and dies, and soon after, Peter is called to come to her home. After meeting with her grieving friends, Peter sends them out of the room, turns to Tabitha, and commands, “Tabitha, get up” (Acts 9:40). Incredibly, she does – she has been restored to life through God’s power.

We may pray for miracles like the one of the resurrection of Tabitha in our own lives – for a friend or family member to beat their illness, for our finances to be fixed, for a volcano to suddenly stop erupting. Sometimes, these prayers are answered in the way that we hope for – but sometimes they are not. And it can be difficult to understand why things happen the way they do, whether for better or for worse. Scripture can prove unsatisfying when we are in the midst of challenges we never expected and aren’t sure how to face.

But in our lives – so challenging, so full of beauty and uncertainty – let us remember this Easter season that our God is one who has promised to always care for us, to love us with a love that we cannot even imagine. Goodness and mercy are ours, says the psalmist, no matter the difficult or unknown roads we must travel. In this sometimes confusing, sometimes breathtaking universe, let us look to God as our rock, our strength, our shepherd, and our constant.

Photo credit here.

April 18 -- Blind But Now I See

This week's lectionary texts: Acts 9:1-20, Psalm 30, Revelation 5:11-14, and John 21:1-19.



Most people who have ever been prescribed corrective lenses can remember the day that they learned the way they had always seen the world was not quite the whole story. They were seeing shapes and colors, perhaps, or the blurry edges of objects and the fuzzy words on signs or in books. But they weren’t perceiving the world in all its richness – weren’t seeing the fullness of creation.

And then when they first put on glasses or put in contact lenses – what a transformation! Life leaps into focus. Trees have leaves, the blackboard is actually legible. The world has not changed, really, but the person’s perception of it has. They begin to see their surroundings in a whole new way.

This week’s lectionary texts tell stories of people seeing and not seeing, being blinded and having their eyes opened, coming to new understandings of the world and the role they are to play in it. The authors of these texts understand that God is constantly helping us to see things in new ways – constantly pushing and challenging us to seek new perspectives and stretch ourselves.

In Acts, we read the powerful story of the conversion of Saul. Saul was a notorious persecutor of the early Christians, a man who hated those who followed Christ and what they stood for – indeed, we read, he “breath[ed] threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord” (Acts 9:1). But one day, traveling along the road to Damascus to find new victims, he was blinded by a heavenly light that was accompanied by a voice asking, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? […] I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting” (Acts 9:4-5).

Saul was utterly helpless – ultimately forced to depend upon a Christian disciple, Ananias, in order to regain his sight. Ananias worried that assisting Saul would mean the guarantee of increased persecution of the young Christian community. But God tells him, “Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel” (Acts 9:15). So Ananias lays his hands upon Saul and heals him: “something like scales fell from his eyes, and his sight was restored” (Acts 9:18). Just days after setting out with the intention of destroying the followers of Christ, Saul (who will become known as Paul) begins “to proclaim Jesus in the synagogue, saying, ‘He is the Son of God’” (Acts 9:20).

Even before Saul was temporarily blinded by God, the author of Acts seems to be implying, he was already blind: blind to the pain he was causing, blind to God’s truth. It took the imposition of blindness and the helplessness that entailed to force Saul to reconsider the ways in which he was living, and to realize that the way he had been seeing the world was not the way God wanted him to interpret it.

The psalmist, for his part, also recalls a time when he could not see. There was a time, he explains, when God seemed to have withdrawn from him, and he could no longer see God: “By your favor, O Lord, you had established me as a strong mountain; you hid your face; I was dismayed” (Psalm 30:7). And indeed, the psalmist never explains when (or if) he is able to see God’s face again. The psalm leaves us with questions about what it might mean to feel that God's face is hidden from us -- why and how does such a thing happen?

But the psalmist also explains that God has “turned [his] mourning into dancing; [God] has taken off [his] sackcloth and clothed [him] with joy” (Psalm 30:11). As he exclaims, “O Lord my God, I cried to you for help, and you have healed me. O Lord, you brought up my soul from Sheol, restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit” (Psalm 30:2-3). Even during those times in his life when he could not sense God’s presence, the psalmist could recall the times in the past when God had intervened on his behalf. He was able to draw on those memories to help move through the dark times in his life, trusting that he would be able to see what lay ahead by the light of God’s past help.

In the reading from John’s gospel, we hear the striking story of Jesus’ appearance to seven of the disciples at the Sea of Tiberias. Peter and several of the other disciples had decided to go fishing, when suddenly they saw Jesus standing back on the beach – but “the disciples did not know that it was Jesus” (John 21:4). It was only after Jesus told the men, who had thus far failed to catch any fish, to cast their nets to the other side of the boat, that they began to catch more fish than they knew what to do with – and realized that the man on the shore was their friend Jesus. Their eyes, blinded to the real identity of Jesus, were opened.

After the disciples returned and cooked breakfast with Jesus, John tells us that Jesus asks Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” to which Peter replies, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you” (John 21:15). And Jesus tells Peter, “Feed my lambs” (John 21:15). A similar exchange happens two more times, with Jesus adding, “Tend my sheep” (John 21:16).

Peter does not seem to initially realize why Jesus continues to ask him the same question over and over; he feels “hurt because [Jesus] said to him the third time, ‘Do you love me?’” (John 21:17). But Jesus seems to only want to make sure that Peter understands just how seriously Jesus is taking the role Peter will play in the early Christian community. He wants Peter to know that loving him – loving Jesus – really means loving everyone. Peter and the disciples are to live out their love for Christ by loving and serving everyone they encounter. In this way, Jesus is giving them a new way of seeing: that is, seeing every woman, man, and child as a representation of Christ, and a person worthy of love and care.

Notice that the readings for this week do not always show a neat progression from blindness to sight. Sometimes, as in the case of Saul, people are blinded before they can learn how to see in a new way. Sometimes, as in the case of Peter, painful misunderstandings can result from God's efforts to help us to see things in new ways. And sometimes, like the psalmist, there may be times when we feel that we cannot see God at all. This Easter season, let us wrestle with these questions of blindness and sight, trying daily to see our lives, family, friends, and faith in a new light, looking for ways that we have been blind to the needs of our neighbors, and envisioning better possibilities for our world. And let us remember that all around us are people who view the world in a completely different way, a way we could never have imagined ourselves -- why not take a chance and try on their glasses for a while?

Photo credit here.

April 11 -- Doubt and Joy

This week’s lectionary texts: Acts 5:27-32, Psalm 18:14-29 or Psalm 150, Revelation 1:4-8, and John 20:19-31.

Easter Day has come and gone. We’ve gone to the church services, sung the happy hymns – perhaps the Hallelujah Chorus? – found the hidden eggs, eaten the chocolate bunnies. We’ve come through on the other side of Lent, experiencing anew the death and resurrection of Christ. We’ve heard the story of the stone rolled away, the empty tomb, the Jesus who once was dead and now is alive again.

But just because Easter Sunday is over doesn’t mean we have come to the end of the Easter season – not at all! Indeed, the Easter season lasts until Pentecost, May 23^rd – we still have weeks of joyful celebration and remembrance ahead.

After the excitement of the “big day,” therefore, it can be helpful to spend some time reflecting on the character of the God we worship this Easter. This week’s lectionary texts help remind us of the glory and goodness of the God who creates and sustains us, the God who has dwelt among us and deeply loves us.

The psalmist in this week’s psalm – the final entry in the Book of Psalms – is so overcome with reverence and awe that all he can do is exhort his listeners to praise God. And not just praise God with their lips, but praise God with every instrument under the sun!

“Praise the Lord!

Praise God in his sanctuary;

praise him in his mighty firmament!

Praise him for his mighty deeds,

praise him according to his surpassing greatness!

Praise him with trumpet sound;

praise him with lute and harp!

Praise him with tambourine and dance;

praise him with strings and pipe!

Praise him with clashing cymbals;

praise him with loud clashing cymbals!

Let everything that breathes praise the Lord!

Praise the Lord!” (Psalm 150)

God has indeed performed mighty deeds – perhaps none so mighty as the one we remember this Easter, that of defeating death itself and returning to life, that we might also live abundantly and in service to others.

As John writes to the seven churches in Revelation, moreover, the God we worship is unfathomably immense. “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” God says in Revelation – indeed, God is the one “who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty” (Revelation 1:8). We can be comforted knowing that God has always been here and will always be here – we never have to worry about losing God’s love.

Yet it is not always easy to follow Jesus. Such a lifestyle can prove immensely unpopular. And deciding to become followers of Christ demands our whole selves – promising to honor God, to serve God’s people, and to recognize that, ultimately, we are not to do what society wants, but what God wants. As Peter and the apostles tell the council that has charged them with illegally teaching in the name of Jesus, Peter answers, “We must obey God rather than any human authority” (Acts 5:29). Peter knows that God has raised Jesus from the dead – “we are witnesses to these things,” he says, “and so is the Holy Spirit whom God has given to those who obey him” (Acts 5:32). He cannot deny what he knows to be true: that God’s surpassing love has performed miracles, and that he can’t be silent when there are people who still need to hear that good news.

Nobody alive today was present at the crucifixion and resurrection – we are taking it, in essence, on faith. But even in John’s gospel we see that Jesus’ resurrection was not an easy story to swallow. The apostle Thomas, John tells us, “was not with [the other apostles] 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).

The next week, as it happens, Jesus again appears to the disciples, coming into their midst even through a locked door. After greeting his friends with an expression of peace, he comes to Thomas and says, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe” (John 20:27). Thomas seems overcome with emotion as he proclaims that Jesus is God, and Jesus replies, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe” (John 20:29).

This passage can be a difficult one for anyone who has ever struggled with doubt – and, I suspect, most Christians have dealt with doubt at one time or another. Jesus seems to be saying that Thomas should have believed what the disciples said in the first place, without needing physical proof. And there can certainly much to be said for having a simple faith in God, for believing without seeing, for taking a leap.

But at the same time, we must remember that Jesus does not ignore Thomas’s request for evidence. He comes straight to Thomas and offers him a sign – he does not punish Thomas for his uncertainty. Jesus wants Thomas to be able to trust in him, to believe that he is truly the risen God: but he also is willing to help Thomas make that leap of faith.

This Easter season, may we know that it is okay to not have all the answers, to want to have proof, to be unsure. And may we also know that perhaps the proof of the resurrection is all around us: in our loved ones, in the courage of those who stand up for peace and fight injustice, in the new life springing up all around us. And let us remember that this season is, above all, a season of joy – so let us take out our lutes and cymbals, our pianos and saxophones, our harmonicas and violins, and praise the risen Lord!

Photo credit here.