Nurture Faith with Dr. Doug Hood

Philippians 4:13 (Common English Bible)

            What is so remarkable about these words is that they are spoken by a man in chains. Paul is a prisoner in Rome. In a life dedicated to serving Christ, Paul has endured much – shipwreck, ridicule, hunger, and excruciating poverty. Now he sits in a Roman prison and writes that whatever the circumstances, Paul has learned the secret of inner strength and contentment. Perhaps even more remarkable, Paul lays aside his own needs and concerns to write a deeply personal letter to the Philippians to encourage them in their faith. Despite his imprisonment and impending trial, Paul’s one desire is to share with the church in Philippi that joy and strength does not come from outward circumstances but from an intimate relationship with Jesus. That power is so tremendous and so available that Paul feels he can face anything knowing that nothing can diminish his spirit. His spirit was invulnerable. Paul wants the Philippians to utilize that same power.

            The interesting thing about the New Testament is that we find that same power animating most of the early Christians. A profession of faith in Jesus usually pushed people to the margins of their communities. Families were torn apart – mothers and daughters, fathers and sons no longer in relationship with one another because one or the other decided to become a follower of Jesus. Worship services were conducted in secret and often disrupted by Jewish leaders eager to destroy the Jesus movement. The worst tortures that could be imagined were invented and performed to discourage participation in the new Christian faith. There was every reason for ignoring the swelling growth of the Christian Church, keeping your head down and simply avoiding trouble. Yet, for all the compelling reasons to remain separate from those following Jesus, men and women who risked believing in Jesus made one dominating impression wherever they went, the impression of uncommon power.

            That power has not been withdrawn.             It is not a closely guarded secret. Where men and women continue to take Christ’s attitude of loving others and serving others that same power is unmistakable. What is troubling is that few would say that the Church today impresses the world with the same power as it once did. Somehow those who claim discipleship to Jesus Christ show little evidence of a changed life, a life of uncommon power. Absent in many Christians today is a sense of adequacy for meeting challenge and adversity. Membership and attendance decline of the Christian Church has been tracked and documented for many years now. This has resulted is the publication of resources to perfect the church’s hospitality, increase the vitality of its worship, and harness the power of technology. However valuable these may be, the most urgent need is for followers of Jesus Christ to get back to that power which is possessed by the daily nurture of a personal fellowship with Jesus.

            Return for a moment to the first two words above, “I can.” Some years ago I was working with a personal trainer. One particular day he had me on my back, bench pressing what seemed to be an incredible weight for me. After pushing the bar above my head several times I did a controlled drop of the bar to my chest. I was depleted. I delivered an eye message to him to remove the bar from my chest. I will never forget his response, “That’s not my bar. You place it back on the upright supports.” Then he did what his training taught him to do. He placed his hands around the bar with my own. That was simply to ensure that I didn’t hurt myself. But the lifting belonged to me. I pushed with everything in me; I summoned all the power I could to lift the bar back onto the supports. As my strength began to fail, he matched the loss of my strength with his own until the bar had returned to rest on the support. Paul writes, “I can, through the power who gives me strength.” If you are depressed or in trouble say, “I can in Him” and you will find God’s strength come alongside your own. If you struggle with passions or addictions that frighten you, or if you feel that you are losing your grip on life, say, “I can in Him” and you will discover an unseen hand on the bar with your own, matching your strength. The Christian’s strength begins with, “I can.”

Joy,

Galatians 4:3-5 (Common English Bible)

            Instant Family, a 2018 American comedy film starring Mark Wahlberg and Rose Byrne, weaves a story of a married couple considering the option of adopting a child. The hopeful parents are brought to an adoption fair where they have the opportunity to meet children they may consider adopting. As the story unfolds, the couple becomes foster parents to three siblings, one a teenager – foster care a requirement on the journey towards adoption. As foster parents there are laws that govern the dynamics of the relationship they will have with the children. One such law is that the children’s cell phone cannot be taken away. Although this “new” family initially experiences joy, it doesn’t take long for things to get hectic. Though the movie is a heart-warming comedy, it does grapple honestly with the struggles and difficulties that are a part of any family, particularly with an “instant” family as this one. 

            We were very much like the three children in the movie. The three children were in a foster system with its own regulations and rules and we were in “this world’s system” with laws that made claims upon us. The Apostle Paul writes that we were “enslaved” to the world’s way of looking at things. We are no stranger to how the world sees things; to the values that shape a world outlook on life. The worship of money, the passionate pursuit of success and position, and the desire for comforts found in ease, food and drink form the tapestry of a world outlook. Initially, that outlook may not appear to be enslavement. It all seems to be quite attractive, particularly to those who are still striving for them. Yet, with all the promises of happiness with this outlook, those who are honest will confess to a deep-seated dissatisfaction with life. What remains is a hope for something more.

            In the movie, Instant Family, the three children desire something more than foster care with all of its rules, restrictions, and uncertainty. Realizing how much they love and care for the three children, the couple also long for something more, something deeper. Eventually they all gather for a court hearing to decide on the question of adoption. It has been a long, broken road to the court hearing but the three children and the couple all want to become a legal family. Love has gripped each of their hearts. The old system of foster care no longer brought deep satisfaction and joy. The adoption is finalized and the laws that governed foster care fall away. The relationship of the children to their adoptive parents will now be governed by a more generous and gracious dynamic. Each of the five begins the joyous discovery together of what it means to belong to each other.

            In the person of Jesus Christ, our own enslavement to the world and its values has ended. We have been adopted as God’s very own children. It is an adoption that has been secured by a God that desires something more for us, something less restrictive, and more gracious, something less uncertain, and more shaped by family ties. This adoption brings with it a new outlook on life, a new way of seeing things. Creation is the work of a purposeful God. It is not something to be exploited for personal gain but something that is to be managed well that it may be a blessing for all people. The possibilities of human life are no longer limited by our own ingenuity and strength but are expanded by God’s own creative purposes.  Adoption releases us from the pursuit of meaning and happiness in material things and invites us to experience these things in relationships with others and with God.  Those things that are valued by the world cannot satisfy and ultimately lead to brokenness and death. Attention to a relationship with loved ones and God is life and peace.

Joy,

Matthew 16:18 (Common English Bible)

            In a recent episode of the television show, Young Sheldon, we see hung on a bedroom wall a poster of Albert Einstein. This particular episode develops as its primary story line Sheldon’s desire to become the next Einstein. Those familiar with the character of Sheldon from the television show, The Big Bang Theory,or this show, Young Sheldon, are quite acquainted with the breath of Sheldon’s intelligence. It often eclipses everyone in Sheldon’s orbit. What is often irritating about Sheldon’s character is his inability to be gracious about his intellectual capacity. Here, in this particular episode, young Sheldon has determined to learn all he can about the one he idolizes. Learning that Einstein was Jewish, it seems reasonable to Sheldon that his journey to become like Einstein must include conversion to the Jewish faith. In one poignant moment, Sheldon is counseled by a Jewish Rabbi that when Sheldon came to the end of his life, God would not ask him why he didn’t become like Albert Einstein. Rather, God would ask Sheldon why wasn’t he Sheldon.

            I am as guilty as young Sheldon. Near my desk is a framed picture of Harry Emerson Fosdick, a great preacher of another generation. I have read Fosdick’s autobiography and a biography of this man who was once called, “the least hated and best loved heretic that ever lived.” Many mornings I enjoy breakfast with one of Fosdick’s 47 books of sermons, biblical studies, and Christian apologetics. His life had sharp parallels to my own; his thinking stretching my thinking, and his writing informing my own reading – and understanding – of the Bible. Often, I place Fosdick quotes in the Sunday morning worship bulletin, and my preaching sparkles with Fosdick insights. A liberal Christian and preacher in those decades of our nation’s history when that was much more dangerous (Ordained in November of 1903, retired in May of 1946), Fosdick has shaped my own theological convictions and reading of the Bible to be more gracious and generous, less narrow and restrictive. Perhaps the critical difference between young Sheldon and me is that I harbor no illusion of becoming another Fosdick.

            Young Sheldon desires to be the next Albert Einstein and I deeply value the ministry of Harry Emerson Fosdick. The danger for both Sheldon and me is that we pay little attention to who God has uniquely created each of us to be. We are not alone. Many people today habitually wish they were someone else, or at the minimum, they wish they could be more like someone else. They wish they could possess qualities which they lack, to be more attractive, or more intelligent, or have a more outgoing personality. Perhaps their longing is simply to claim more courage, more patience, or more talent. The result is always disappointment. As Fosdick once shared from the pulpit, “Nobody can put qualities into us from the outside.”[i]  This lesson from Matthew’s Gospel suggest coming at this dilemma from another angle: claim who God has made us to be, “I tell you that you are Peter!” Jesus tells Peter that there is something already in Peter that is sufficient for planting and building the church.

            This presents both an encouragement and a challenge. It is an encouragement to accept that God has already made us sufficient for the work God has for us. It isn’t necessary to be someone else or to import into our lives qualities we don’t possess. “I tell you that you are Peter.” Jesus is asking Peter to claim that; to claim that God has uniquely and purposefully made Peter to be the man he is. The same is spoken to us through this text. We already possess all God needs for us to be useful. This also presents a challenge. Jesus saw something deep inside Peter that Peter didn’t see. Peter would be a rock, a strong foundation for the church of Jesus Christ. When Peter saw a reflection of himself in the waters of a lake, he saw a man that was temperamental, emotional, and lacking courage. Peter’s challenge was to see what Jesus saw, to reach down deep into himself, claim what Jesus saw, nurture it and make that quality the driving force of his life. It is our business in life to get out of ourselves what is already there; to lay hold of those virtues, and qualities, and passions that lay dormant within. It is then that we realize we don’t need to be anyone else. God’s grand purpose requires exactly who we were created to be.

Joy,

Isaiah 52:1a (Common English Bible)

            Captivity for Israel has ended. God has defeated the powers of Babylon and has authorized Israel to depart and head for home to Jerusalem. A new day, with a strong future, now rises for God’s people. “Awake, awake!” is God’s double imperative to Israel. “Put on your strength, Zion!” The call sounds strangely familiar. “Up and Adam! Let’s get going!” is the more common usage today. These, or similar, words have been uttered by most parents summoning their children awake from their sleep. The image of sleepy children, resisting the call to leave the comfort of a warm bed, is sharp and crisp. The parent can wake the child with a shout, can summon the child from the bed, but it must be the child’s own strength that moves them from slumber to a fresh engagement with a new day.

            God’s present difficulty is that Israel doesn’t want to get out of bed. During their captivity in Babylon, Israel has become dulled, inattentive, hopeless, and grief-stricken.[i] Israel has been humiliated by Babylon and has spiraled into such despair and self-pity that they no longer want to live. No longer did life offer a driving purpose, only a memory of brighter days. Absent was a radiant hope, only a fading dream. A captivating vision has fled from their sight. What remained was a history. “Awake, awake!” is God’s response to Israel’s self-pity. “Put on your strength, Zion!” God is reminding Israel that there is still strength in the people and is here urging them to summon that strength and toss-off that negative attitude that has consumed them.

            Psychotherapist and author, Amy Morin writes that feeling sorry for yourself is self-destructive.[ii]Though we all experience pain and sorrow in life, dwelling on your sorrow and misfortune can consume you until it eventually changes your thoughts and behaviors. Morin contends that any of us can choose to take control. “Even when you can’t alter your circumstances, you can alter your attitude.”[iii]This is the clear declaration of God to Israel; the clear call to shake off their indulgence in self-pity, claim the strength that remains in them, and move positively forward toward the future God has prepared for them. God’s strength comes alongside our own. It does not do for us what we can do for ourselves.

            After Victor Hugo was exiled from his beloved France, he spent 18 years in the Channel Islands. Hugo once described this exile from the nation he loved as worse than death. Each afternoon, at sunset, Victor Hugo would climb to a cliff overlooking a small harbor and look longingly out over the water toward France. Legend tells us that each day, following his meditations, Hugo would pick up a pebble and throw it into the sea. One day the children who developed an affection for him asked why he threw a stone in the sea each day. “Not stones, children, not stones. I am throwing my self-pity into the sea.” Little wonder that during those 18 years of struggle, Victor Hugo gave the world his best and most profound work of literature.

Joy,

      

Psalm 37:1, 2 (Common English Bible)

            I received an email this week from a dear friend and member of this church. With considerable distress he wrote that it now appeared that the faith he holds so dear – the Christian faith – has been “high jacked” by an intolerant segment of the larger Christian Church in our nation. I know this man’s heart. He does not disparage those who hold a different view of scripture – or the faith – from him. In fact, he has shared his conviction that the local church is the richer due to different theological positions held by the membership; that is, the church is the richer if we are humble enough to truly listen to one another. The cause of his current distress is that there seems to be a segment of people who vilify those who disagree with them. They are absolutely convinced that their viewpoint is the correct one and humility has not been invited to the conversation.

            The author of Psalm 37 offers a cure for this man’s distress: “Trust the Lord and do good.”[i]The instruction offered here is considerably richer than a cursory glance may offer. Throughout the Old Testament the word which is here translated “trust” is translated “careless.” Insert this translation and what is heard is, “Be careless in the Lord!” Rather than carrying a weight of concern for what intolerant, fundamentalist Christians may say to us, let our “care” be absent. As J. H. Jowett so cleverly expresses it, we are to be as careless little children running about the house in the assurance of their father’s care and love.[ii]The responsibility for the intolerance that causes us distress belongs to God, not us. What is our responsibility, according to this third verse, is that we are to continue living as faithfully as we know how: to “do good.”

            That closing instruction, “do good,” is not offered as a soft, cheerful ending to the weightier encouragement to “Trust the Lord.” The author of this Psalm has been where we are; has experienced our distress and anxiety over those who would distort our Christian witness with an intolerant view. It is precisely because we experience distress and anxiety that we are cautioned to be intentional with our response: “do good.” That is because distress and anxiety easily moves toward anger. And the natural result of anger is weakness rather than strength. Perhaps you have used the expression that someone is “hot under the collar” as I have. At such moments, unwise and irrational decisions can be made. It is then that our cause – our sense of justice – is not advanced. Our behavior does not vindicate us. The occasion is made worse than it was before.

            Today, faithful Christians are under considerable pressure from groups who are intolerant and, sometimes, hateful toward those who hold a different position. The certain risk is that we join them in their hatred by our unmeasured response. Psalm 37 is a call to “cool the heat” and trust that God remains Lord. We may temporarily experience distress – even alarm – by the behavior of others. That is a signal that we care deeply about our faith and wish for an authentic witness to others. Yet, what an authentic witness requires at such moments is an unwavering confidence in God’s faithfulness and capacity to move all of us toward healing and wholeness. “Trust the Lord!” Assume that the river of God’s redemptive purposes is flowing even on the darkest day. It is this that will provide a cure for our distress.

Joy,   

2 Kings 20:2, 7 (Common English Bible)

            Theodore Roosevelt, our nation’s 26^th president, was born a frail, sickly child with debilitating asthma. At seventeen, Roosevelt was as tall as he would grow, five feet eight inches, and was just shy of 125 pounds. His health, a continual concern of his parents, prompted Theodore Senior to decide that the time had come to “present a major challenge to his son.”[i]At the age of twelve, Theodore – nicknamed as a child, Teedie – was told by his father that he had a great mind, but not the body. Without the help of the body, the mind could not go as far as it should. “You must make your body. It is hard drudgery to make one’s body, but I know you will do it.”[ii]Teedie made the commitment to his father that he would do so. The promise was adhered to with bulldog tenacity. The young Theodore Roosevelt took personal responsibility for his physical health and development.

            Hezekiah, king of Judah, became a very sick man during his leadership. He had a wound that had become so serious that his spiritual counselor, a prophet named Isaiah, informed him that he should put his affairs in order because he was dying. That diagnosis came like a bolt of lightning to Hezekiah. In desperation, Hezekiah “turned his face to the wall and prayed to the Lord.” He pled with the Lord to reward his faithfulness as a man of God and to spare his life. Then, the scriptures tell us, Hezekiah cried and cried. Before Isaiah had left the courtyard of the king’s residence, God sent him back to Hezekiah with another and more hopeful message: “I have heard your prayers and have seen your tears. So now I’m going to heal you. I will add fifteen years to your life.”[iii]Then follows something that is most curious: Isaiah orders a bandage made of figs be placed on the swelling. Hezekiah prayed and Isaiah prepared a bandage: prayer and responsibility.

            With powerful clarity, this passage of scripture teaches us that two things were responsible for Hezekiah’s rapid recovery: prayer and a bandage, faith and personal responsibility. If the king was to recover his health, both were required. The Bible refuses to indicate which of the two was the more important. We cannot know which was the most effectual. The message is that without either of them Hezekiah would have died in the prime of his life and at a time when his country most needed his leadership. The power of the Assyian king, and his armies, threatened the peace Judah. The death of Hezekiah would have made Judah most vulnerable to their enemies. With his health restored, Hezekiah was able to defend his nation from the Assyian threat. This story provides an important lesson for God’s people: While prayer is essential it must never be made a substitute for personal responsibility.

            There are people who make the mistake of choosing between the two, prayer and responsibility. We have seen in the news recently where parents of a particular Christian sect refused medical treatment for their young son because they chose the avenue of prayer alone. A choice between faith and medicine is simply not supported by this Bible lesson. Each is a gift of God and each has its own power. Faith and medicine are both means of healing. They belong together. Both are agents of a compassionate God. Prayer and personal responsibility cooperate closely in effecting the highest well-being of those who struggle with illness. This story from 2 Kings reminds us not to neglect either. The sixteenth century French physician, Paré, reminds us of this truth when he wrote, “I dressed the wound and God healed it.”

Joy,

Mark 1:35 (Common English Bible)

            It was said of the disciples long ago that people held them in wonder and awe that they had been with Jesus. To be with one of the disciples was to experience one degree of separation from our Lord. That close proximity to Christ resulted in an experience of spiritual vitality and power. God’s love, and wisdom, and strength were no longer limited to one’s imagination as stories of Jesus’ life and ministry were shared. In the company of a disciple – or disciples – God’s presence seemed to come near. The vision of God’s glory grew more expansive in the heart as a result of being in the presence of one of the disciples. Perhaps that same fascination is what drives each of us to be photographed with those we admire. There is an unmistakable attraction and thrill to standing in the presence of those who have acquired a larger-than-life persona.

            In this passage from Mark’s Gospel, Jesus had just finished a hard, grueling day. A similar day would follow. How could he be ready for it? What would be the spring of fresh physical, emotion, and spiritual strength from which he would drink? Mark gives us the answer and with it the key to Jesus’ vitality and stamina, “Early in the morning, well before sunrise, Jesus rose and went to a deserted place where he could be alone in prayer.” This one verse suggests the great wisdom of prayer: Every morning, draw from the inexhaustible power of God by drawing near to God’s presence. That is done in prayer. Once when a man was asked what he was doing each day sitting alone in a church, gazing upon a picture of Jesus, he answered, “I am simply looking at him and he is looking at me.” Prayer is time with God.

            The weakest, humblest life can be made stronger when placed before God. As we pray, the Bible promises that God will be there. There will be days when God seems absent. The Psalms tells us this. Pray anyway. Know that God is present. Day after day the eyes of the soul become more sensitive to God, the heart more aware of God’s still small voice speaking. Eventually, prayer becomes that daily practice by which the individual soul becomes intertwined with the presence and strength of God. The fact of intimate communion with God is the great reality of true, regular prayer. In prayer we come to see ourselves surrounded by God’s love and concern for us as we begin each new day.

            How strange, how foolish it must seem to God that we should be content with so little prayer. This particular occasion, mentioned in this one verse of scripture from Mark’s Gospel, was no unusual occurrence for Jesus. Jesus prayed often; Jesus prayed for himself and for others. Jesus took time for prayer before each day and before every difficult challenge that drew near to him. Jesus teaches prayer to us by example, for he knew from his own experience that prayer was a vital part of navigating the inevitable difficulties that each one of us must face. Today, many Christians are troubled by weakness, doubt, and fear, largely because they miss the help that prayer might provide. The greater wisdom of prayer is simply discovering – and experiencing – that we never have to face a day alone. 

Joy,

Luke 11:1 (Common English Bible)

            Some years ago I returned home from a business meeting in South Carolina. After claiming my baggage at the Tampa International Airport I proceeded to my car parked in the short-term parking garage. I found a flat tire. Only once in my life had I ever changed a flat tire. That was before I was married. That one time it took me nearly forty minutes. I remember my father once telling me that I wasn’t worth much with my hands. I never disappointed. Exhausted from my trip and staring down at a flat tire I made the decision to call my father-in-law who lived near the airport. He giggled – he giggled at me often, wondering what kind of man his daughter married – and said he would be there in ten minutes. In about the same amount of time it took him to arrive, my tire was changed and I was ready to go. I thanked him, we hugged and each of us said “I love you” to the other. On my drive home I realized that it had been nearly a month since the last time I spoke with my father-in-law.

            Often, this is what our prayer life looks like. Life is moving forward in a pleasant manner, we are happy, and our needs are few. Conversation with God – in prayer – is virtually non-existent. Suddenly we look down at a flat tire and a phone call is made to God. For many, it completely escapes them that there is anything deficient in their practice of prayer. All that has been understood about prayer is that God is the great giver who shows-up when we make the call. Some of you reading this will recall the major home appliance manufacturer, Maytag, and their television commercials of the Maytag repairman sitting by the phone waiting for a call. When our flat tire is not resolved quickly we question, “Where is God?” Our confidence in the power of prayer wanes. Perhaps even more tragic is that some may begin to question the very existence of God.

            Jesus’ practice of prayer astonished the disciples. Such was their amazement at Jesus’ prayers that they asked him to teach them to pray. As far as we know from the Gospels, this is the only thing the disciples explicitly asked Jesus to teach them. Notice that this fresh interest in prayer does not arise from the study of an apprentice manual for discipleship or from a conversation with Jesus on the topic. It followed immediately after observing Jesus at prayer. There was something about Jesus’ prayer life that was different from their own practice of prayer; something that evidenced a greater sense of intimacy with God, and something that gave release to more power. As Harry Emerson Fosdick so clearly expressed it, Jesus went into prayer in one mood and came out in another. Praying was not a form but a force.[i]          

            Fortunately for the church today, the Gospels have captured many of Jesus’ prayers. A close examination of those prayers reveals a surprise for many: absent is any hint of begging. Jesus does not approach his heavenly father with pleas for his personal welfare, as though a disinterested God must be cajoled or convinced to offer a blessing. What becomes startling clear is an affirmative tone to Jesus’ prayers. Jesus turns his back on any doubt of God’s goodness and stretches out his hand to appropriate the inexhaustible resources available to any one of us. Such prayer retires for a moment from the swirling darkness that may surround us from time to time and affirms that God is present and active in our life. Such prayer, Fosdick affirms, “does not so much asks as take; it does not so much beg for living water as sink shafts into it and draw from it.”[ii]That is praying as Jesus’ prayed.

The following meditation is from Doug Hood\’s book,

Nurture Faith: Five Minute Meditations to Strengthen Your Walk with Christ.

Romans 13:14 (Common English Bible)

For some, the experience of the Christian faith lacks the heroic and adventurous texture of the lives of great biblical personalities. Safe, comfortable boredom is more often presented today in the life of those who follow Christ. Absent are uncalculated risks, the thrill of battling difficulties and the appetite for conflict and victory. The faith has become soft, the individual life one of self-indulgent behavior. The demands of scripture go unnoticed, perhaps on purpose, and everything is made too easy. The casualty is a faith without power or interest.

In more honest moments, such people will often confess to a desire for something more, something deeper.  A world of risk and adventure is preferred over the predictable routines that our lives fall into. The zest of struggle and conquest teases our minds and the ever-present possibility of calamity and pain doesn’t diminish the lure. Rather, these are the factors which make possible human happiness; joy the product of discipline and effort.

Such a faith remains within the reach of anyone who desires it. It arrives along the route of spiritual discipline. Unlike military discipline, a discipline that is imposed from without, spiritual discipline emerges from within. It is self-imposed.  It builds spiritual muscle that is revealed in unquestionable character and contagious personalities. Discipline may seem, for a time, to be a thing of pain and not joy, but those who are trained by it are quick to demonstrate a life that is stronger, healthier and marked by joyful anticipation. Faith, properly experienced, becomes life’s grandest adventure.

Those who endeavor to claim such an experience of faith are addressed in these few words from Romans, “dress yourself with the Lord Jesus Christ.” The daily discipline of arising from bed and dressing our bodies with clothes appropriate for the day is purposely chosen. Dress the spiritual body each morning, as the physical body is dressed. Strive to eliminate unchristian attitudes and thoughts and consider how to be more loving of others. Remain alert to the needs of others and less preoccupied with your own. And do not neglect the regular reading and reflection upon God’s Word in the Bible. Think of how to please Christ throughout the day and such strength of faith as never known before will be given to you.

Romans 13:14 (Common English Bible)

Ephesians 4:26 (Common English Bible)

            If you are like most people, you were raised with the old maxim, “feed a cold, starve a fever.” Writing for Scientific American.com, Mark Fischetti has traced this maxim to a 1574 dictionary by John Withals, which noted that “fasting is a great remedy of fever. The belief is that eating food may help the body generate warmth during a ‘cold’ and that avoiding food may help it cool down when overheated.”[i]But recent medical science says that that old wisdom is wrong. It should be “feed a cold, feed a fever.” Naturally, doctors advise meals that are balanced and nutritious for optimal support of the body’s struggle to overcome the illness. Apparently, what still holds true is the value of a simmering bowl of chicken soup.

            That old maxim has been disproved by modern medicine but a portion of it – “starve a fever” – is precisely the spiritual prescription the Apostle Paul advises for unhealthy anger: “don’t plan to indulge your selfish desires.” Anger is one of the most common sins when it stirs within us a passion of fury that can result in threats and violence. The world has witnessed this anger in the increased level of violence often done in the name of religion. Fear occupies the thoughts of many simply because they may be found to have a different religion or point-of-view. Broken relationships and estrangement from loved ones due to anger also rips at the fabric of God’s good intention for all of humanity. Paul offers counsel: let the selfishness of anger be destroyed by the withholding of appropriate support – “don’t plan to indulge.”

            There is no method more efficient and assured of victory over the sin of anger than destruction by neglect. As another maxim goes, “deny the fuel, you exhaust the flame.” In practice, what Paul urges in all of his letters is that we redirect our thoughts from those things we disagree to the one conviction that holds each of us together, the Lordship of Jesus Christ. Dwelling on the things that divide us results in aroused feelings. Unchecked, those feelings boil over and scalds and destroys the more gentle places of our spirit. We can control our passion by wisely directing our thought to our unity in Jesus and a common striving to love our neighbor as ourselves.

            Paul is clear than anger itself isn’t sin. Anger often signals that something is wrong, requires attention, and calls for a measured response. At the deepest level, anger demonstrates that we are awake, aware, and care deeply about the world we live in. “Be angry,” writes Paul to the church in Ephesus, “without sinning.” Those last two words must not be glossed over. We are not to sin whenever anger is present. There is no consideration given to whether the anger is justified or not. And when we do experience anger, resolve it quickly before it arouses those passions that lead to destruction. We have been baptized into the life of Jesus Christ. At its most basic meaning, that means that Christ is placed first in our lives, not our ideology, our prejudices, and our convictions. If we keep our eyes on what our baptism means, we will make no provision for the care of selfish desires. And, an unhealthy anger withers.

Joy