Author: Pastor Jeff Smith

Sunday, March 15, 2020

John 4:27-42

As Jesus ends his conversation with the Samaritan woman, the disciples return. They assume he must need something to eat, and Jesus tells them that he has food to eat that they do not know about. Further, they see him with this woman whose reputation puts them ill at ease. But the woman … she had gone to tell her villagers about this man … this prophet … who knew everything about her and then still kept talking to her. There was something powerful about this stranger traveling in their midst.

It seems that the disciples might be ready to pack up and just get out of there, but Jesus is talking about a harvest that is ready to be brought in. Perhaps the disciples are thinking that, if they could just get out of this neighborhood, they could then focus on the harvest. Jesus tells them to open their eyes … look around … and see that they are called to be right there … right then … just for that purpose.

The woman and her villagers return to see just who this is. Imagine the discomfort of the disciples in realizing they did not get Jesus out of there sooner. Then it only got worse. The villagers asked Jesus to stay … and he accepted! Then he (and presumably the disciples) stayed with the villagers two days.

Where do we find ourselves that we would rather not be? Is it in the company of people who make us uncomfortable? Is it people whom we have written off … marginalized … considered to be unworthy? The calling that is Wellspring’s is to challenge others to wake up … to see that the field is indeed ripe and ready for harvest. It is the calling to open our own eyes and see Christ in the people of God all around us who ask only that the gift of hope and life be shared with them.

Lord, open our eyes to the world around us, and may we respond as Jesus taught us … loving others as you love us. Amen.

Saturday, March 14, 2020

John 4:5-26

The readings for today and tomorrow comprise the key foundational story of Wellspring. In so many ways, it defines who we are. In this story, Jesus and his disciples are traveling through Samaria (a region typically avoided by Jews because the people who lived there, while practicing Judaism, had intermarried and were considered impure). They have stopped at Jacob’s well (another key part of the story), and the disciples left Jesus alone so they could go buy food for them to eat. It is there that he meets a Samaritan woman who has come to the well for water.

There are several things wrong with this story as it unfolds. First, a woman comes to the well alone, and when it was the custom for women to come in groups, we are already put on notice that she is an outcast. Second, Jesus talks to her (double trouble talking to a woman who is an outcast among the Samaritans). Third, Jesus knows all about her and then dares to offer her a gift of abundant life that, we assume, would have been reserved only for the faithful.

As I hear this story over and over again, all I can think is that we are called to a radical way of being in the world. God knows us for who we are and loves us anyway. God comes amidst our brokenness … our sin … our shame, cradles our face, and considers us worthy to receive the gift of this wellspring of life.

This woman, in all her brokenness, is us! When a radical love like this is so far removed from our world, perhaps it is up to us to live out this radical way of being in the world. Offer the wellspring of life, and your life will never be the same.

Living Water revealed in Christ: Quench our thirst and use us to share this cup of blessing with your world. Amen.

Friday, March 13, 2020

1 Corinthians 13:1-13

In ministry, I have conducted over 300 weddings, and each wedding is unique. As one might expect, 1 Corinthians 13 is the most common passage read in the wedding ceremony. It is the passage that speaks to the hearts of so many, and it challenges us to a deep love that we wish for all relationships.

Of late, I have been delving more deeply into evolutionary development of both individuals and humanity as a whole in both the psychological and sociological levels. The various models talk about the movement from the very egocentric needs (it is all about me) to ethnocentric (it is all about my family, tribe, or nation) to cosmocentric (my own word to describe the a truly global … cosmological … center). Ken Wilber uses the model of Spiral Dynamics to talk about the move from the individual to a global centered view, but then he talks about moving to a fully integrated frame of reference in talking about all aspects of cosmic reality.

The Greek language used up to six words to describe love. They distinguished between the love of self, of family, of friends, of things, and love that is universal and self-emptying. The last of these is the one Paul is using here: ἀγάπη – agape.

As Paul calls us to this cosmic kind of love, he also is challenging us to see ourselves as fully integrated into the fullest possible reality of communion … community … with friends, family, our community, our nation, and our world. It is a call to love even those who are very different from us and even our enemies. It is a love that requires that we fold the self fully into the cosmic reality of God’s creation. Above all, it reflects the full pouring out of God’s self into creation and invites us to do the same. So to love is to give ourselves radically to God as partners in the new creation.

God of love, open our hearts to share the radical love you have shared with us. Amen.

Thursday, March 12, 2020

2 Corinthians 4:1-6

I began my ministry with with a good bit of naïveté. I was convinced that the truth of the gospel would be so evident that people would automatically want to follow Jesus more closely. It seemed like such a compelling argument to me that I could not imagine people not seeing what I was seeing or hearing what I was hearing. I was unable to experience greater truths that had yet emerged to me. I was despondent that there were so many who just did not hear it the way I heard it.

I thought people who didn’t hear were just blinded, as Paul says here, by the “god of this world.” While I may not have confronted people with the error of their ways, I am confident that much of my preaching contained a fair amount of judgment for those who failed to see Christ as I saw Christ.

At some point, as I grew older, I realized that the one who failed to see or hear was me. I had made this ministry more about me and less about Christ. Paul, you see, teaches that we are not to make it about us. It is about being in service to others. It is less about the truth we tell and more about the truth we live.

In my ministry, I have come to what Paul Ricoeur calls the Second Naïveté. This is a more educated belief and hope that the gospel can make a profound difference in the world, but this is an informed gospel that is lived out each day. If we are to let this season speak to us, it cannot be about our pious speech. It must be about the way we live our lives.

So during a season of fasting, I invite you to join me in discovering new ways to serve others. One of the things I am giving up is the notion that this is about me. It is about demonstrating God’s love to the world in ways that let God’s light shine brightly and illuminate the darkness.

Humble me and use me, O Lord, to cast your light abroad. Amen.

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

Isaiah 55

Isaiah is a harbinger of hope! Israel has returned from exile. The people are trying to find their new normal living in the land. God will establish a new covenant with Israel. God will again establish Israel as a vehicle to connect God to all the nations. This is a continuing fulfillment of the promise made to Abraham and Sarah.

They will do this only as they experience themselves as abundantly blessed … with a heritage … with a future … with a God who will not give up on them. The challenge is for them to realize that the abundance they seek is not in the land to which they have been restored. The abundance they seek is a complete and abiding trust in this God of second chances.

We live in a world that is disconnected. We have a shared emptiness and disconnection that is pervasive in every corner of the globe. What is interesting is that in a world where we have more social connection via electronic media of all kinds, we have become more disconnected than ever. This disconnection has led to increased instances of hateful rhetoric … even by religious and political leaders … that has, in many ways, paved the way for increased violence against marginalized people. The call of Christ is a call to repent of the ways we contribute to this brokenness and alienation of others. It is a reminder that “God’s ways are not our ways.” It is a call to be a light to the nations.

God not only calls us to experience the abundant life as children living in a trusting relationship with a nurturing parent, God sends us out with a message that this God of abundant living is their God, as well. And what we are promised here is that God’s word will not return to God empty!

God of Abundant Grace, come to us in our emptiness and send us out that your word will not return to you empty. Amen.

Tuesday, March 10, 2020

Exodus 3:1-12

My call to ministry came to me when I was 12 years old. It was also my earliest recollection of an encounter with the holy. In Social Studies, we were required to do a “current events” report each week. Normally, I just cut out whatever I could find in that Sunday’s Dallas Morning News, and glued it to a piece of notebook paper, wrote the minimum three sentence description and shoved it into my folder. And I prayed that Mrs. Carr wouldn’t call on me.

This Sunday, however, was different. It was about this shroud in Turin, Italy. It was purported to be the shroud that covered Jesus. I began reading the article. The photographs taken by Secondo Pia in the 1930’s showed what he saw when he looked at the film negatives and saw a positive image. All I had to do was cut out the first one, write a few sentences, and be done. But I could not put it down. I wanted Mrs. Carr to call my name!

The paper ran a series of articles every single day of that week. Each day, after school, I grabbed the paper, and I read the article and cut it out to save it. As I continued to reflect on what I read and saw, the article ceased to be about the shroud and its authenticity or inauthenticity. It became my burning bush. I found myself on holy ground every time I pulled out the paper … almost like I needed to take off my shoes.

In this season, we are offered the opportunity to experience the holy. It may not be a burning bush. It might be as mundane as a newspaper article or social media post. It might be as ordinary as looking into the eyes of someone we love … or perhaps someone who is marginalized. These holy encounters come at us when we are often going about our daily lives. They sneak up on us and catch us off guard. Be ready! At any given moment the ground on which you stand may be holy!

Lord, call us to the ground that is holy. There may we meet you! Amen.

Monday, March 9, 2020

Genesis 32:22-32

Jacob had stolen his brother’s birthright for a bowl of red beans. He had secured his father’s blessing by deception. He had fled and then, ironically, was deceived into marrying, not one, but both of Laban’s daughters. He was now returning home to face his brother, whom he imagined would try and kill him for having taken his birthright. Jacob has sent all that he has: livestock, possessions, servants, and finally his wives and eleven children. Putting space between him and Esau … offering all that he had in hopes that Esau would not kill his wives, children, or Jacob himself. Surely this was enough.

And Jacob stayed at the ford of the Jabbok by himself. It was there that the wrestling began. He fought until the break of day … beyond which his opponent would no longer put up the fight. When the opponent asked Jacob to let go, Jacob said he would not until the blessing was given. “Fine. What is your name?”

Jacob … “the supplanter” … no, he is now called Israel: “Wrestles with God.” He had received his blessing and now called the place Peniel because he had seen God face-to-face and lived.

The interesting thing, for me, is that we wouldn’t think very highly of Jacob today. Then he is the one who wrestles with God and lives to tell about it. Our faith seems to be based on stories of deception. This sound like we are doing faith backwards.

As I follow Jesus, however, I am reminded that God tends not to use people who are perfect … who make every right decision … who aced their ethics class. God uses people who make bad choices and whose faith journey is crooked and sometimes broken. God uses ordinary people like me … perhaps, like you. So keep on wrestling, and you will find a blessing!

God, use me … even me … to offer your hand of blessing to others. Amen.

Sunday, March 8, 2020

John 3:1-17

Fifty-five years ago yesterday, America experienced a watershed moment. Almost 600 civil rights marchers headed southeast out of Selma on their way to the state capital in Montgomery to protest discrimination in virtually every aspect of American life. Law enforcement met the protesters at the Edmund Pettus bridge where protesters were beaten and bloodied. It took courage to stand non-violently against such power.

It wasn’t unusual to hear about police brutality, but this time, cameras were capturing it all. Images of the beating were broadcast across television screens and on the front of newspapers all around the globe. The darkness was now exposed by the light.

Into this world of suffering and death comes Jesus. He is speaking truth to power, when according to John’s gospel, Nicodemus comes to him at night … afraid of what happens if he is seen with this disruptive rabbi during the light of day. Jesus talks to him about being “born from above,” and Nicodemus fails to understand. Jesus talks about this God who comes like the wind, though no one knows from whence it comes or where it goes. Jesus teaches that God’s kingdom is nothing like any kingdom the world has ever known. Jesus tells of a world where justice reigns … where God’s image is seen throughout ALL of creation, especially in the face of the poor and marginalized.

Today, I will be offering a prayer for those whose lives have been forever altered by the abuse of power. I will be asking forgiveness for the ways we perpetuate harm to marginalized people around the globe. I will be asking for strength to meet Jesus … not at night … but in the light of day! We are called to be courageous! Where will you meet Jesus today?

Forgive us, Lord, when we come to you only in the dark. Wake us up to your presence that we might speak justice into our world. Amen.

Saturday, March 7, 2020

Psalm 121

I was raised on Rodgers and Hammerstein’s The Sound of Music. To this day, I can’t read this text without thinking of Maria as played by Julie Andrews. In the musical, it is the mountains that provide the beautiful backdrop, the place of full communion with nature, and finally the way to escape the grip of Nazism for the family von Trapp.

Jerusalem is surrounded by seven peaks that are each higher than the city itself. The “hills” are likely the hills of Jerusalem, which includes Mount Zion and Mount of Olives. In ancient times, cities built among hills like this were more easily defended against attack. They were places of solace and comfort in times of uncertainty and insecurity. So it makes sense that the psalmist would be looking to the hills as a source for help and strength.

From whence does our help come? We live in days of uncertainty and insecurity. We see how fragile life is, at almost every turn. We have media (both social and public) that create fear and uncertainty with each new broadcast, post, or tweet. We find ourselves overwhelmed and engulfed in the flames of today and our fear of tomorrow. It is then that we look up and glimpse the mountain … the symbol of God … the emblem of our faith … rising far above our fears and doubts.

May today be for us a day of hope.

Show us the mountain of hope, Lord God. When we are overwhelmed with the stuff of life, lift our eyes to see that you provide for us the stuff of faith! Amen.

Friday, March 6, 2020

2 Corinthians 1:12-22

Have you had those moments in your life when you wanted to say “yes” and “no” at precisely the same time? It usually happens to me when I have this eager desire to please everyone who asks a favor of me. I am a “yes” person, by nature, so I say “yes” to some things I really have no business doing. I sense the urge when someone is in need. I desire to do things when I know I can do them well. I desire to do things when people appeal to my ego with things like, “You would be perfect for this!” or “We just can’t think of a better person to do this.” Sometimes I wake up to the fact that their sense of perfection is a fairly low bar and that the reason they can’t think of a better person is because all the better people have said, “No!”

Paul describes this tendency to say “Yes” and “No” as ordinary human standards … speaking out of both sides of our mouths. When it comes to faith, I know of times when I have both affirmed and denied the call of Christ. There are times when my mind and mouth say “yes,” but I say “no” by not actually doing what I have said I would do. Paul is asking that our actions equal our words when we say “yes” to Christ.

The beginning of Lent is like the new year. We set out resolute to do something differently, whether it is practicing some sort of a fast or adding a spiritual practice. Then we find ourselves a few days in and, distracted by the ever-unfolding lives we lead, we forget why we even wanted to do the thing we wanted to do (not pointing fingers at anyone but me).

I think the bigger picture here is that Christ is calling me only to fast from thinking I can fight fire with fire … or live by the sword … or eliminate injustice by treating my enemies unjustly. Christ is asking that I say “yes” to following in his way of peace.

Lord God, let my “yes” to you be a “yes” to your way of peace. Amen.