Author: Pastor Jeff Smith

Wednesday, March 25, 2020

John 10:22-30

As a child, I always loved visiting my grandmother’s house in the little community of Mooreville. One of the big highlights of any visit was going down the road either at 7:00 AM or 4:30 PM to watch old Mr. Hahmann move his sheep. Every morning, he would move the sheep from their pens behind his house, across the street to the old schoolyard, where they grazed the day away. Each afternoon, he moved them back.

What I always remembered, however, was how he would call them every afternoon. He would call them with a lyrical sound that was unique to him, and they would finish their journey from the back of the schoolhouse to the front gate. He would open the gate and they would go without complaint back to their enclosure for the evening. There was something about his voice.

Jesus suddenly finds himself surrounded by religious leaders, and he is being questioned. “If you are the Anointed One (Messiah), then just tell us.” Jesus responds, “I have told you, yet you still don’t believe. You don’t believe because you don’t belong to my sheep. You are unable to hear my voice. My sheep are those entrusted to me by God, and they hear my voice and follow me. God and I are one, and no one can take my sheep from me.”

In our world, there are many voices. Some hear the voice of the ego wooing us to spend our lives only on ourselves. Some hear the voice of power encouraging us to objectify others. Some hear the voice of consumerism encouraging us to strip the earth of its natural resources and exploit others in the process. Some hear the voice of religious leaders offering justification for violence and oppression. Those voices are often subtle and seductive, yet they are different from the voice of Christ.

So if we are sheep belonging to Christ, I would encourage us turn down the volume on the other voices and listen.

We are listening, O Christ, for the sound of your voice. Speak louder than the voices around us that we might hear and follow you. Amen.

Tuesday, March 24, 2020

Romans 6:1-14

During the early days of ministry, one of my dearest mentors was Dr. Erwin Bohmfalk. Bummie, as he was known, provided me much valuable insight and years of learning. He was born in 1900, so he had more than 60 years of ministry behind him when I first met him. That meant that he had learned a thing or two and wanted to pass it on to me.

One of the gifts he gave me was a framed prayer known as The Pastor’s Prayer, and it is that prayer that teaches me about the humility required to be a pastor. It reads like this: 

O Lord God, Thou hast made me a pastor and teacher in the Church. Thou seest how unfit I am to administer rightly this great and responsible office; and had I been without Thy aid and counsel I would surely have ruined it all long ago. 

Therefore do I invoke Thee.

How gladly do I desire to yield and consecrate my heart and mouth to this ministry! I desire to teach the congregation. I, too, desire ever to learn and to keep Thy Word my constant companion and to meditate thereupon earnestly.

Use me as Thy instrument in Thy service.

Only do not Thou forsake me, for if I am left to myself,

I will certainly bring it all to destruction. Amen.

I still find humor in its honesty: if I am left to my own devices, then I will ruin it and bring it all to destruction. It is only humorous because it is blunt and painfully to the point. Without God, we have no hope of the abundant life promised to us.

Paul reminds us life itself perpetually flows from life to death to resurrection. Our passion and desire are not enough. Our skill and our connections with the right people are not enough. Finally, only God is enough, and when we willingly let ourselves die to sin, through this resurrection, we will wake up alive to God.

Don’t leave us alone, Lord, and let us die to sin that we might live for you! Amen.

Monday, March 23, 2020

John 17:1-19

As Jesus prays for his disciples, there is one central unifying theme: God is one with Christ, and because of Christ we are made to be one with each other. The holiness we seek is found only through wholeness.

The problem we seem to be having in our world is not just one of unity, which we often interpret as persuading people to “think like me.” Neither is it relativized truth where whatever people think, say or do can be said to be “just their own truth.” We have absolute truths that I believe are universal: the sanctity of human life … the discovery of Christ in the face of the poor … the harm that comes from our tendency to marginalize and demonize the other. So how do we create unity out of these disparate positions?

I find unity through developing theories of integration. One I first learned about only recently is the evolutionary theory of human development known as spiral dynamics. (Much can be found about this online, so I won’t detail it here.) The greatest part of this theory is that every person goes through various developmental stages, and each stage of growth is greater than the other. The same is true of human community.

The problem is that, as humans have grown to newer levels (say moving from a tribal to a national to a global worldview), we have tended to minimize and reject those who are elsewhere on the journey. This is how I see our current struggles in our national and denominational landscape.

What Jesus is calling us to is integration … a way of respecting others who are at a different place while perpetually inviting them to see the expansiveness of this God in whom we all are one. Christ is the gift of God capable of integrating us into the tapestry of heaven. When we experience this gift, then Christ’s joy is made complete in us!

In you, O Christ, do we find true unity. May we find wholeness and holiness in you. Amen.

Sunday, March 22, 2020

John 9:18-41

As we conclude the story of the man born blind and healed by Jesus, we find the man brought to his parents who testify that he is, in fact, their son. But they say little else for fear of reprisal. The religious leaders, however, are not giving up on this easily. They bring the man back in for questioning and demand of him to disavow his claims about Jesus because Jesus “is a sinner.”

The man gives the simplest, yet most profound response: “I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” He isn’t too much into theological debate. He is living by empirical evidence that his blindness, as he had known it from birth, had been healed. The man also has the wisdom of the streets where he had begged for daily scraps of bread each day, so when they wanted him to describe the scene again for them, he finally said, “I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?” They could no longer stand it and banished him, saying, “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?”

In the final scene of this story, Jesus finds the man who is driven back into the streets, and he answers the question asked in verse 2: “Who sinned?” The answer is that neither this man nor his parents sinned to make him blind, but the religious leaders, who claim that they “see” all they need to see, are in fact, the ones who sin. Jesus turns the tables to say that those who are blind are not the sinful ones … the sinful ones are those who claim to see while simultaneously punishing those who are invisible and who dare to be visible.

It takes courage to move from the place of invisibility into the light of grace … where all are seen … all are heard … all are known. In the light of grace do we then see Christ!

Open our eyes, Lord … we want to see Jesus! Then we will be whole. Amen.

Saturday, March 21, 2020

 John 9:8-17

Perhaps the most interesting part of the story of this man born blind is that, as soon as he begins to see, everyone around him (up to and including the religious leaders) are blinded. People who had seen him before as a beggar questioned each other. “Is it him?” “No, surely this is just someone who kind of looks like him.” It is a stark reminder to us. When the people who are invisible to those of us who have greater privilege, we will in no way recognize them when they rise up in front of us.

The religious leaders had to weigh in, as well. They were already unhappy with Jesus because of his very different way of teaching about God to the poor, but they had their answer. “This man is obviously not of God because he healed on the sabbath. So how is it that a sinner like Jesus can perform such miracles?” When they asked the formerly blind man what he thought about that, the man responded: “He is a prophet.”

The story of blindness is not about the man born blind. It is about the blindness of others around him … our blindness, as well. This is about our inability to see the invisible people in our world … the poor, the homeless, those who can’t afford both the cab fare and the groceries, the one who can’t get out of her home, the one who can’t overcome his depression and anxiety. It is about our inability to experience Christ bringing healing and hope to the world simply because Christ comes most fully to the invisible people. Those who participate in our caring and mission ministries certainly can understand this better, but for those of us who come to worship without ever connecting our faith to the least of these will miss the healing. We might just find it easier to look up the code or law the healer violated.

Look around you. When you see the invisible people, you will have seen Christ!

O Christ, we want to see you, and we desire your healing. Open our eyes to the power of your presence as we begin to see the invisible ones. Amen.

Friday, March 20, 2020

John 9:1-7

The gospel writer, John, uses metaphoric images to tell the story of Jesus. As we begin a three-day journey with a man who was born blind, we begin with a question of “theodicy” (which asks the question of why bad things happen in a world created by a good and loving God). So the obvious question posed at the outset is the same question Job’s friends asked him: “Who sinned here?” Jesus answers that neither this man nor his parents have sinned, but that God intends to use this man’s blindness “so that God’s works might be revealed in him…. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

Then we are told that Jesus made mud with dirt and his own spit and then put it in the man’s eyes … if your eyes water when you read this, then it is having the right effect. Jesus then tells the man, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam (which means Sent).” Then he went and washed and came back able to see.

The meaning here is unmistakeable. While it is possible that Jesus was using some ancient ophthalmic practice, it would at least seem that putting mud in the eyes of the blind would only make them more blind. Then he is told to go wash in the pool whose name means “Sent.” Jesus tends to work in ways that don’t make sense. The blindness so often referenced in the gospels is a spiritual blindness. Our blindness is one that is led by our own desire to be right … to be religious … and to think that there is no other way to see the world than our way.

Jesus finds us in our blindness. He comes offering us a way to see … new eyes to see the world as God sees the world … as a fully integrated whole. Perfect and complete. And when we wash ourselves in the Pool of Sent, we will soon find ourselves sent into the world … offering our eyes as the new eyes with which to see God and God’s creation. So wake up … see … and go!

Beyond our blindness, O God, may we see your hand at work in our lives and in the world. Amen.

Thursday, March 19, 2020

Ephesians 5:8-14

As a Pops, I have learned that my grandchildren love to sleep with us. We have a king bed, so there is always room. So that morning stands out sharply in my mind … the night our oldest grandson (now six) … was sleeping with us. Daylight had just barely come through the window above our bed. I was sleeping soundly, when suddenly I awoke to breath on my face. I opened my eyes to find his eyes only inches from my eyes. The reason I remember that night so quickly is that the body’s sudden dose of adrenaline not only wakes us up … it sears memories in the brain.

Paul here is describing people who are in darkness without even knowing they are in the darkness. We live in a world defined by sin and brokenness.

Religious folks, lest we get too excited about pointing out the sins of everyone else, Paul reminds us that, we too, are exposed in the light. He says,“Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness.” That means we don’t repay violence with violence. It means we come to a deeper understanding of the harm we do with the very unloving ways we confront people to “set them straight” (while really just wanting another notch in our bible). It means we have to examine our own behaviors, thoughts, and beliefs to see that they align with those of Christ.

Paul says, when we find ourselves in the Lord, we will become light itself. The challenge now is to let our light illuminate the darkness (often even within our own families, our own communities, and our own churches). It means we are called to take a stand for justice … for peace … for God’s righteousness.

Then when we see the truth lying beneath the darkness, we are called to wake up … to provide that shot of adrenaline by looking lovingly into the eyes of the one in the darkness. “Wake up! God’s reckless love has been cast in you. God is here for you!”

Wake us up, Lord, with the light of your love. Use us to illuminate your presence and your love cast recklessly throughout creation. Amen.

Wednesday, March 18, 2020

Ezekiel 36:22-30

“You will be my people, and I will be your God.” The noted author and researcher, Dr. Brené Brown, has spent much of her research on issues of shame and belonging. As I have heard her describe belonging, she describes it as different from “fitting in.” She describes it as being loved for who you are.

Ezekiel’s prophecy, as we will see with other prophets, calls Israel back to the place of holiness and wholeness. The expectation God has of God’s people is not lessened, but Ezekiel reminds us that it is not about fitting in … it is about claiming who we are as God’s beloved children.

Ezekiel tells us that God is doing this, not for the sake of Israel, but for God’s own sake. I would argue that it is for the sake of the relationship that God has with all of creation, which only unfolds when we let God be God. In that relationship, we experience something far more than profane (ordinary), and we are found in the presence of the sacred (extraordinary). What is extraordinary about this God of ours is that we are claimed as children of God even when we don’t deserve it … even when we have profaned God among the nations … even when we have failed to experience our relationship with God as both essential and sacred.

In this Lenten journey, it is my prayer that we will experience the sacredness of God and the sacredness of relationship. We belong to God. Perhaps, with Ezekiel, we might then experience a God bent on saving us from ourselves; who then restores us to sacred community … relationship … where wholeness and holiness define us more than our brokenness.

We pray, Lord, that you will move us from the profane to the sacred, from exclusion to inclusion, from struggling to fit in to truly belonging. Bless us with sacred community with you! Amen.

Tuesday, March 17, 2020

Matthew 18:10-14

My college roommate was a business major. He studied accounting, human resource management, and various other business courses. When he would study in our room, I could understand most of what he was talking about … except economics. I just never understood anything about economics.

In this text, I have cause to believe that I might take a bit after Jesus in this regard. Jesus begins by telling a parable about a shepherd who has a hundred sheep. Then he tells about one of the sheep that is lost. The shepherd then leaves the ninety-nine sheep “on the mountains” to go search for the one. He tells this story like he thinks he is going to have a great hearing, and he asks, “What do you think?”

I, for one, think it’s a great way to end up with only one sheep (assuming he finds the one that is lost). Jesus, this is a terrible idea. The mountains would imply the presence of predators ranging from mountain lions to wolves. Sheep abandoned by their shepherd in this kind of environment would be vulnerable.

But Jesus has a lesson. Throughout this chapter in Matthew, Jesus is talking repeatedly about these “little ones.” He uses the term to describe both children and people who are otherwise vulnerable. He knows those who are vulnerable often fall prey to the whims of the larger group … especially when the vulnerable have been marginalized or harmed by not fully belonging to the dominant group. Jesus stands in solidarity with the weak, the poor, the marginalized … the “little ones.” This isn’t about a sinner who repents. This is about God who seeks out the one who is lost and trampled under foot by the dominant culture.

In my journey through life and faith, I am convinced that it will serve me better to be with Jesus out looking for the “little one” who is vulnerable than it is for me to be huddling with the flock on the mountain! This is what God’s economy is all about!

Lord, teach me to to live in your economy of great love. Amen.

Monday, March 16, 2020

Luke 19:1-10

The story of Zacchaeus has always been a fun story to tell to children. It tells of a small-statured tax collector who climbed up the sycamore tree to see Jesus, how Jesus went to stay at his house, and how Zacchaeus was repentant and gave back money to people whom he had defrauded.

Key to this story is that Zacchaeus was someone who was almost universally derided. The tax collector has never been a popular person, but in the Roman system, the tax collector was a contractor who had unlimited authority to take however much they could get out of people and only pass the “required” taxable amount onto Rome. Tax collectors were often rich, but they also knew their effectiveness was tied to the fact that they could easily provoke a rebellion, which in turn, would bring the hand of Rome down firmly on their neck. This is Zacchaeus.

Jesus doesn’t say that he is going to spend the day with Zacchaeus because Zacchaeus repented. Jesus is spending the day with him because he sees value where we most often do not. In this way, he practices a level of integration that links saint and sinner firmly together in this emerging creation. Jesus continually crosses boundaries to shrink the chasm that divides us.

We live in a polarized world where the expanse between our political, social, and theological positions grows ever wider. We need people who understand this divine integration more than ever, but it only happens when we look deeply within people who are very different from us … even people who have wronged us … to discover the Christ abiding within them. Jesus speaks to us as he boldly agrees to dine with our enemies and seeks to integrate and reconcile people and ideas we consider otherwise incompatible. I can’t help but think how different our world would be if we practiced an integrated spirituality like Jesus!

Lord Jesus, we pray that you will feast with us at the inclusive, integrated table of hope. Amen.