Author: firstdelray

From Doug Hood\’s upcoming book,

Nurture Faith: Five Minute Meditations to Strengthen Your Walk With Christ, Vol. 2

“Again the Lord called Samuel, so Samuel got up, went to Eli, and said, ‘I’m here. You called me?’”

From Doug Hood\’s upcoming book,

Nurture Faith: Five Minute Meditations to Strengthen Your Walk With Christ, Vol. 2

\”Love is patient, love is kind, it isn’t jealous, it doesn’t brag, it isn’t arrogant, it isn’t rude, it doesn’t seek its own advantage, it isn’t irritable, it doesn’t keep a record of complaints.”

1 Corinthians 13:4,5 (Common English Bible)

From Doug Hood’s upcoming book,

Nurture Faith: Five Minute Meditations to Strengthen Your Walk With Christ, Vol. 2.

“Therefore, stop worrying about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

 Matthew 6:34 (Common English Bible)

It is the practice of the Eskimos never to carry the day’s evil experiences, its troubles and its quarrels, over into the next day. Two Eskimo hunters might become engaged in a violent dispute over the division of the game which they had taken, and heated words might even bring them to blows, but once the sun had set and they had retired to sleep, all memory of the quarrel would be erased from their spirits, and the next day they would greet each other as brothers. If you were to exclaim in surprise: “But I thought you were enemies. You were fighting yesterday!” they would answer: “Ah, but that was yesterday and we live only today.”ⁱ That is living in the present tense!

Mark Twain, with his characteristic humor, once commented that he has suffered many things most of which never happened. Doctors tell us that much of our anxiety, which often results in physical, emotional, and spiritual unease, is located in tomorrow, a preoccupation with fears of the future. Consequently, our fears of tomorrow rob us of the opportunity to live fully and abundantly today. Naturally, wise and reasonable decisions and personal behavior must shepherd us in the present day. Careless spending today will result in debt tomorrow. A word carelessly spoken or a relationship betrayed may negatively impact all of our tomorrows. Not all of us have been nurtured in the Eskimo culture!

Jesus’ invitation in this teaching is to locate our hearts in God. Worry and anxiety is all about trying to avoid something, about trying to get away from something. The strain of worry is indicative that we don’t trust the future. Jesus asks that we approach life from another perspective. Rather than fleeing what we fear most, Jesus asks that we run toward God. As Augustine once said, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.”ⁱ Jesus asks that we live in the present tense, free from the regrets of yesterday and the fears of tomorrow. That is possible after we have accepted God’s forgiveness for the past and trust in God’s care for the future.

Thomas Long writes that there is a kind of worry about the coming day that is normal, even healthy. “Tomorrow’s chemistry test or job interview is bound to provide concern, and this command ‘stop worrying about tomorrow’ is not an invitation to finesse the exam or to waltz into the interview unprepared. Rather, it speaks to the deeper, more basic fear that something is out there in the future that can destroy our basic worth as a human being, something finally stronger than God’s care, some silent killer shark swimming toward us from the future.”ⁱⁱⁱ Jesus asks that we cling to God in such a manner that we can affirm that whatever tomorrow brings, it also brings God.

 Joy,

_____________________

ⁱClayton E. Williams, “Living Today Forever,” Best Sermons: 1955 Edition, edited by G. Paul Butler (New York, London & Toronto: McGraw-Hill Book Company, Inc., 1955) 106.

ⁱⁱThomas G. Long, Matthew (Louisville & London: Westminster John Know Press, 1997) 76.

ⁱⁱⁱLong, 76.

 “Just like a deer that craves streams of water, my whole being craves you, God.”

Psalm 42:1 (Common English Bible)

            The philosopher Blaise Pascal once wrote that each one of us is born with a God-shaped hole in our hearts. Naturally, Pascal was not speaking of a literal hole such as a square hole. The hole he speaks of is an empty space, a deep longing or hunger. We often attempt to fill this empty space with other things or pursuits. Perhaps we seek a relationship that will satisfy this longing, or acquire some material reward such as a new car or country club membership. Each of these may satisfy for a period. Cracker Jacks at dinnertime will satisfy hunger for a little while. But, the satisfaction will be short-lived. After all, if the empty space implanted in our hearts is for God, any substitute will simply leave empty spaces all around it. Our hearts remain empty.

            This scripture from Psalms speaks of deer that crave streams of water. What the original readers of this passage know is that many aqueducts in the Holy Land were built with a mesh-like covering to prevent trash from clogging the water supply. Thirsty deer could hear the streams of water, they could see the streams of water, but they could not drink from those streams. The mesh covering that prevented trash from entering the water also prevented the deer access to the water. So the longing to quench their thirst remained. What is important for the reader to understand is that before the deer “listened for” and “moved toward” the sound of streams of water, there was first a thirst.

            As the deer experienced thirst, often we experience a spiritual thirst, a spiritual yearning for something more. Sometimes that thirst is noticed when we see others living a deeply satisfying relationship with Jesus. There is simply something about their faith that is missing in our own experience. Other times we simply become tired of acquiring more and more and finding that all of it fails to satisfy our deepest hungers. The emptiness remains. And most of us will try almost anything to fill that emptiness only to be disappointed time and time again. That is because they fail to recognize that only the pursuit of a deep relationship with Jesus through regular prayer and study of Jesus’ teachings can ever satisfy that emptiness.

            During my sophomore year of college I had the opportunity to spend the fall semester of study in London. To complete a class assignment, I traveled to Liverpool for a weekend of research.  Arriving in the early evening of a Friday – London to Liverpool – by train I immediately looked for an inexpensive opportunity for dinner. Just as I began to enjoy the fish and chips I had ordered to go, eating while standing along a sidewalk, I realized I had lost my father’s professional Nikon camera he had trusted to my care. I lost my appetite, threw away a largely uneaten meal, and went off searching for the camera. Ultimately my search led me to a homeless man, the Cathedral of Christ the King, and Father Murphy, who had my camera. Returning the camera to me, Father Murphy looked deep into my eyes and asked, “Are you hungry?” In that moment I sensed that the question was intended for something much deeper than my stomach.

Joy,

“While Peter was held in prison, the church offered earnest prayer to God for him. The night before Herod was going to bring Peter’s case forward, Peter was asleep between two soldiers and bound with two chains, with soldiers guarding the prison entrance.”

Acts 12:5, 6 (Common English Bible)

              Albert Einstein once said that to continue to do something in the same way and to expect different results is the definition of insanity. I suspect the difficulty so many people have with prayer is that it doesn’t seem to work – at least not to their expectations. To continue to practice prayer with apparent little effect leads to discouragement and disillusionment. Eventually, they draw the same conclusion as Einstein – continuing to do something the same way and expecting different results is the definition of insanity. An English author once wrote of his prayers to God at an early age. He prayed hard for something to happen. It didn’t. Concluding that prayer doesn’t work he offered one final prayer, “All right, Mr. God. I won’t bother you again.”

              That English author’s story is often our story. We pray for something to happen. It doesn’t. We stop trying. Perhaps we are not as blunt with God as the English author but that is what happens. Some of us may persist at prayer longer than another, praying always in the same manner, “God, please heal my friend,” or “God, help me with my finances,” or “God, give back to the Miami Dolphins a winning season,” and nothing happens. The friend doesn’t get better, finances remain a difficulty, and the Miami Dolphins repeat another losing season. The result is that we quietly stop praying. Why bother God any further? The problem is we have misunderstood Einstein. He doesn’t suggest we stop trying. Einstein is telling us to try another approach.

              A recent episode of Law & Order presents a family torn apart by a husband and father who abandoned his family. He simply doesn’t want the responsibility a family will demand. The son grows up to be a professional baseball player who is quite good with a handsome salary. The father reenters the son’s life with excuses for why he abandoned the family. They are, naturally, unconvincing. Yet, the son is grateful to have a father in his life. Grateful, that is, until the son learns that the father has a gambling problem and needs rather large sums of money to cover gambling debts. In a heart-wrenching series of events we learn that the father is too busy to accept an invitation to the son’s home for dinner and to meet his daughter-in-law and grandchild, too busy to attend one of his son’s ballgames, too busy to remember his son’s birthday. Yet, the father is never too busy to “drop-in” on his son for a handout to cover gambling debts.

              Often, that is our approach to God. Our lives are simply too busy to spend time with God in any meaningful manner. Nevertheless, we find the time to “drop-in” on God when we have a need. The disciple, Peter, shows us another approach. Peter has been arrested and placed in prison. Herod had James put to death and Peter knows that this is Herod’s intention again. Placed in chains and guarded by sixteen soldiers, Peter goes to sleep. How can anyone sleep when there is a death sentence on his or her head? Peter can. That is because he has lived so deeply into a relationship with Jesus that nothing frightens him anymore. Peter is changed by an approach to prayer that is more about growing intimate with God than receiving anything. Prayer’s ultimate goal is to lead us into the presence of God where we are changed. It is then we find peace, even when chained in a prison cell.

Joy,

 “In the future, your children will ask you, ‘What is the meaning of the laws, the regulations, and the case laws that the Lord our God commanded you?’ tell them: We were Pharaoh’s slaves in Egypt. But the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand.”

Deuteronomy 6:20, 21 (Common English Bible)

              My daughter, Rachael, was five years old at our move into a new home in Coppell, Texas. Shortly after settling into our new home, Rachael and I went exploring our new community. Near our home was a large, beautiful park and, within the park, a smaller, enclosed playground for children. Naturally, she wanted to meet the other children there in the playground, all engaged in their own play. I saw it as an opportunity to read while Rachael did what she does best – meeting strangers and forging deep and abiding friendships in little time. The playground was enclosed with a gate that had a safety design that only adults could open. Rachael would be safe as I turned my attention to my The New Yorker magazine.

              After completing a short article, I thought it wise to have “eyes on” my daughter. I did not see her. I wasn’t concerned because of the safety design of the gate. But I did think it prudent to place my magazine down and find her. What I found was Rachael being Rachael. Seated on the ground in a semi-circle were four other little girls, approximately Rachael’s age, with their focus fixed upon Rachael, who was also seated. Not wanting to disrupt whatever Rachael was saying that held the attention of four strangers, I drew near quietly. What I heard from the heart of a five-year old was, “I was a slave girl in Egypt and Pharaoh was so mean to me. But my God is bigger than Pharaoh and God came for me one day, beat Pharaoh up and took me home. I don’t exactly remember it because I think I was asleep in my daddy’s arms.”

              Where did Rachael get that story? From her father who received the story from his father who received the story from the Bible. It is a story that is captured here in Deuteronomy that occurs at a crucial juncture of Israel’s journey from slavery in Egypt. Just before the people leave their forty year journey in the wilderness, cross the Jordan River, and take possession of the land promised to them, Moses instructs them how to shape and mold their children into one powerful, corporate story. It is a story that will give meaning, and purpose, and understanding of who they are as a people of God. The story will be a response to the children’s inquiry, an inquiry that asks, what is the meaning of the laws God has “commanded you.” In a subtle shift, the children express a certain distance from their parent’s faith – “commanded you.”

              Just as subtly, the parent’s answer is to breakdown the separation suggested by the children and includes them in the remarkable story of God’s deliverance, “We were Pharaoh’s slaves in Egypt,” and “But the Lord brought us out of Egypt.” Questions about rules and laws in the faith community are answered in story. Stories are imaginative and embody fascination and richness that simple, direct explanations fail to provide. Stories invite the listener to enter, poke around a little, and locate a comfortable place to settle and claim a unique place in the larger narrative. The remarkable power of story was realized one bright, sunny day in a children’s playground area in Coppell, Texas: “I was a slave girl in Egypt,” spoke my daughter to four strangers. In those few words, Rachael entered the story, poked around here and there, and found herself belonging to something so much greater than one small girl. Rachael belonged to a people who have captured the heart of God.

Joy,

 “Don’t neglect to open up your homes to guest, because by doing this some have been hosts to angels without knowing it.”

Hebrews 13:2 (Common English Bible)

              This past week I listened to a dear friend from Texas preach from the pulpit of First Presbyterian Church of Galveston, via the church’s webpage. In his message he mentioned that his “thin place” was Mo-Ranch, a camp and conference center located in the hill country of Texas. The pre-Christian and Celtic people of Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and England identified thin places as places of uncommon energy, a place where the veil between this world and the eternal world is thin. Experiencing a thin place is like standing on Holy Ground, experiencing the sacred in the midst of the ordinary. This term does not belong exclusively to the Christian faith but is commonly understood as a place where the connection to another world seems effortless, a place where uncommon insights and truths become palpable.

              Those who know me well have heard me speak often of my thin place, Bryant Park in New York City. Some people have expressed surprise. A beautiful cathedral or a lovely church or a widely recognized sacred place such as the Garden Tomb in Jerusalem seem more likely candidates for the selection of a thin place. Or, as my friend mentioned, Mo-Ranch in the beautiful hill country of Texas. Except, those who understand deeply the notion of a thin place know that they are not chosen. They chose you. Bryant Park chose me nearly twenty years ago. Located in mid-town Manhattan, Bryant Park provides a respite – an escape – from the high-octane movement of the city that surrounds it. That is what drew me into its lovely, landscaped oasis. Then, over time, I began to experience holy moments in Bryant Park.

              On one occasion many years ago, seated in Bryant Park on a Wednesday afternoon, I was quietly working on a sermon when a man “flowed” into the park as if lifted by some invisible force. He was draped in a purple robe; arms outstretched and as he entered, people quickly moving from him. Perhaps “scattering nervously” is more accurate. I remained in my seat, wide-eyed in curiosity. Then his eye caught my eye and he moved ever so gracefully toward me. Always interested in unexpected moments in the colorful and rich City of New York, I remained seated. Now standing before me, he asked what it was I was doing. After introducing myself as a Christian pastor working on a message, he gently took my hand, kissed it and gracefully floated on through the park and back into the city. Yes, though he was clearly mentally ill, it was a moment rich in mystery.

              Another memorable occasion in the park was July of 2019. I had walked my son to his office in the city and then made my way to Bryant Park to have a frank conversation with God. If we learn anything from reading troubling passages in the Old Testament it is that characters like Abraham are perfectly content with confronting God with difficult questions. On one occasion, God appears poised to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. Abraham has no difficulty confronting God with that decision, bartering on behalf of the cities. So, following the example of Abraham, I seat myself in Bryant Park, bow my head, and close my eyes. I have an issue with how God has been managing my sense of call to ministry. In prayer, I let God have it. With head still bowed, eyes closed, I think, “Right, God has nothing to say.” Then, there is a tap on my shoulder and I look-up to see two young women with Ohio State t-shirts. “Yes?” I inquired. “May we ask you a question?” I nodded my permission. “Do you believe God speaks to us? God does, if we truly listen.” That day, in Bryant Park, I found myself seated before two messengers of God; angels dressed in Ohio State t-shirts.

Joy,

 “When Jacob woke from his sleep, he thought to himself, The Lord is definitely in this place, but I didn’t know it. He was terrified and thought, This sacred place is awesome. It’s none other than God’s house and the entrance to heaven.”

Genesis 28:16, 17 (Common English Bible)

              Early in my relationship with my wife I learned she liked yellow roses more than any other color. I also learned that she doesn’t much care for red roses. Whenever I am shopping at Publix I pass the floral department to see if they have yellow roses. If they do, and they are particularly beautiful, I purchase a dozen for my wife. I have done this now for thirty-three years. It isn’t a burden. I delight in making this thoughtful purchase because it brings delight to my wife. It would be a burden if I found that I couldn’t afford to purchase roses for her. And I would stop making this purchase if she ever tired of receiving them.

              Worship is paying attention to God. Naturally, as a pastor, many Sundays I am in the pulpit – I am at work. But, when I have a Sunday off, I am in worship somewhere. I go to worship not because I feel some professional obligation. Nor do I worship hoping to enjoy some inspirational music or hear a helpful sermon, though both are welcomed. I go to worship to pay attention to God. Paying attention to God causes me delight because I know it delights God. God created man and woman for relationship with one another and with God and all of scripture is one long narrative of God pursuing that relationship. As the purchase of yellow roses brings mutual delight for my wife and me, worship brings the same mutual delight for God and me.

              During this pandemic, in person worship is suspended to protect the health and well being of the congregation. This is no different than persons in the Bible who suffer from a skin disease being required to self isolate from the faith community until a priest declares them healed. Yet, people miss in person worship. I get that. So do I. I miss the community, the personal engagement, the sharing deeply in people’s lives before and after the worship service. Yet, First Presbyterian Church of Delray Beach never suspended worship. Through live stream technology, worship remains available each week. What remains is the opportunity to pay attention to God – to cause God delight and to experience delight as a result.

              Here in Genesis, Jacob wakes from his sleep and realizes that God is present. His experience is that he was “terrified” which must not be confused with how that word is often used today. Jacob’s experience might better be described as one of astonishment and awe. Simply, Jacob experienced delight in the presence of God and details the experience as “awesome.” There may be times when worship becomes routine and rituals are simply repeated week after week. But we continue the routine because, in paying attention to God, we do not want to miss those occasions when, like Jacob, a most adventurous encounter occurs that results in mutual delight.

Joy,

“What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you?”

James 2:14 (New Revised Standard Version)

            Someone once declared that promised prayer has no power, only practiced prayer. That same observation can be applied to faith; profession of faith has no power, only practiced faith. Evidence of this unfolded one Sunday morning during my graduate studies. Sitting in a Sunday school class for young adults at the North Avenue Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, Georgia, a young man asked permission to address the class. His intention was to make a simple observation and ask the class for help. Then the instructor would proceed to teach the lesson he had prepared for the morning. Yet, the young man’s comment became the lesson for that day.

This man began his comments by sharing that some years earlier he made a profession of faith in Jesus as his personal Lord and was baptized in that church. But, he was a graduate student, busy with not only the demanding rigor of his studies, but also working a part-time job to help sustain him as a student. Then, there was also this girl. He was “madly in love with her” as he put it and that, naturally, required some of his attention and time. In the economy of a twenty-four hour day, there simply was no time remaining for the regular reading of the Bible and prayer.

Now, this man has found himself in the middle of a weighty life crisis, one that was causing him to unravel. He turned to his faith. It was then he made a comment that has shaped my own understanding of faith, something that has given more texture, and depth, and color to my own relationship to Jesus than anything I found in the classroom. “I turned to my faith and found that I had done nothing with my faith and now my faith could do nothing for me.” Then, a long lingering silence draped the room. Wisdom of such depth rarely can be met with words. The instructor then, with a deliberate and careful movement, placed his lesson upon an empty chair and asked, “What can we do for you?”

The only help the student asked for was accountability. “Beginning today, I am no longer neglecting my faith. Hold me accountable. Call me each day and ask what I have read in the Bible and how I am responding. What I need more than anything at this moment is a faith that will sustain me. Hold me accountable. I cannot move forward without God.” Here was a young man who discovered the profound truth that merely professing faith in Jesus lacked power. Vital, life-giving faith that sustains us requires practice. This is precisely what James would have us hear, “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you?”

Joy,

“You yourself have kept track of my misery. Put my tears into your bottle – aren’t they on your scroll already?” 

Psalm 56:8 (Common English Bible)

               Many of us have a bucket list – a list of experiences we would cherish before death. They require no explanation to others, no defense. They are deeply personal. Further, an explanation may reduce the depth, color, and richness of personal meaning. Most people recognize that what is experienced deeply can rarely be expressed with words. Words are useful for the communication of thought. They are less useful for conveying deeply held emotions, feelings, and convictions. A strong writer can approach this depth of meaning better than most. But always, words have a reducing effect. Permit me to simply state that high on my bucket list are three experiences I would value: a cameo appearance in a stage production of the musical RENT, a balloon handler in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, and sharing a cappuccino with David Hyde Pierce.

               Some will remember that David Hyde Pierce played the character of Niles Crane on the popular television series, Frasier.  On three occasions I have enjoyed David Hyde Pierce on a Broadway stage: Spamalot, Curtains, and Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike. If I were to have an occasion to have a private conversation with Pierce over coffee my first question to him would be, “What makes you cry?” An answer to that question often points to deeply held convictions; points to those values, and struggles, and principles that grip our hearts. Again, words are limiting. But they can point another in the right direction. An answer to the question, “What makes you cry?” provides a window into the depths of another’s soul.

               Naturally, tears come in a rich variety. A powerful conviction of truth draws tears to my eyes every time. I simply cannot read in Luke’s Gospel the story of Simeon taking the infant Jesus in his arms without my chest becoming heavy and tears forming in my eyes. Here, Simeon recognizes this child as God’s salvation. This is a story that reaches beyond the descriptive; it is evocative. In faith, Simeon sees God’s decisive hand in the unfolding drama of human history. Grief is another variety of tears. Old Testament teacher, Walter Brueggemann helps us with understanding this passage from the Psalms. Here is a confidence that God has kept, treasured, and preserved “my tears”; that is, all the pain and suffering that the psalmist has experienced. “God is the great rememberer who treasures pain so that the psalmist is free to move beyond that pain.”[i]   

               There is an ancient Jewish practice that provides care in times of misery and grief. A small bottle is provided to collect the tears of anguish and loss. The top of the bottle has a small hole in it that would allow those tears to evaporate over time. When the bottle is completely dry, the time for grieving is over. The Psalmist wants us to know that God has a bottle with our name on it. When tears of grief flow, God collects them in that bottle. This is how seriously God takes our grief; how God honors and shares in our loss. But there is a small hole in the top of that bottle. Over time the tears will evaporate. When the bottle is dry, and our eyes are clear, we see that God remains. And God redirects our eyes to tomorrow.