Nurture Faith with Dr. Doug Hood

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

The following is from Doug Hood\’s 

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

Acts 1:8 (Common English Bible)

When the king in Alice in Wonderland was asked where to begin, he said gravely, “Begin at the beginning… and go on till you come to the end: then stop.” Begin at the beginning. Naturally, that guidance seems reasonable. That is, until you have to actually open your mouth, and speak. With thoughts racing from one place to another, it quickly becomes apparent that there are many fine places to begin. Jesus tells his disciples, here in Acts, “you will be my witnesses.” Where do the disciples begin? Where are we to begin? Sharing our faith in Jesus seems reasonable until we actually confront that moment – that moment when we are asked, “Who is Jesus?”

That moment came to me one Easter morning. I was enjoying breakfast in a Doylestown, PA diner, looking over the message I would preach in just a few hours. Mary, the waitress assigned to the table where I was seated, approached with coffee and said, “I guess this is your big day, pastor!” “I guess so,” I remarked. Then Mary asked, “What is Easter all about anyway?” Initially, I dismissed her question, not thinking she was serious. But I was mistaken; Mary was very serious. It was then I took the time to really notice her, to look into her eyes and really see her. I will not forget those eyes – eyes that betrayed her silence; silence of considerable pain. “Where do I begin?” I thought. I began with her pain. “Easter means that you can stop beating yourself up. Whatever guilt you may have now, whatever mistakes you have made in life, Easter means that you are to stop immediately from beating yourself up. God has removed it all.”

“But there is more,” I said to Mary. “Easter is an invitation to pay attention to Jesus.” I shared with Mary that as she paid attention to Jesus, by reading of him in the Bible, she will discover that she will want to be more than she is now. “Pay attention long enough to Jesus and you will experience a compulsion to be something more; you will begin to live differently.”  Mary needed to hear that Jesus doesn’t leave a life unchanged. Any significant time spent with Jesus always results in a desire to be made new. “Your whole world will appear different. You will want to be different.”

“Finally, Mary, begin to follow Jesus as you learn about him.” I shared with her that what that means is to “do what he asks in his teaching.” Imagine Jesus as a mentor in life and do everything that is asked of you. Something inexplicable happens when someone commits to doing all that Jesus’ asks: they receive an uncommon power to do so. People who obey all that they understand of Jesus’ teachings receive a power from outside of themselves; a power that actually makes them something so much more than what they were. Mary began to cry and asked how to begin. That is when I knew I had come to the end. And there, in a diner in Doylestown, PA, Mary gave her life to Jesus.

Joy,

Psalm 42:1 (Common English Bible)

            On a recent vacation, my wife, daughter and I climbed the Dunn’s River Falls in Jamaica. This world famous waterfall cascades 600 feet down a giant rock staircase to the Caribbean Sea. Visitors to the falls are divided into teams of eight, join hands, and follow a guide up the natural stepping platforms as they are showered with cool, clear water all the way up. There are various places on the way up that we stop, let go of one another’s hands and rest, splash each other, and take photos. But movement toward the top always requires holding onto one another to assist a secure footing on slippery stones. Naturally, each person experiences moments of awe at the tropical beauty around us and laughter as we struggle together toward the top, firmly holding onto each other. Yet, at a deeper level I experienced something of God’s Kingdom surrounding the whole experience. We were joined together – by hands – in a common quest to reach the top without any consideration of the other’s political, educational, or ethnic identity.

            Similarly, all people are possessed by a common quest which has taken hold of the human heart. It is a quest that leaps across the borders of religious affiliations, races, and nations. It cuts across generations and continually challenges women and men. What I speak of is a deep and increasing desire to know God. Every person, atheists or religious, experiences a desire to connect with someone or power greater than their individual self. We may disagree on much and desire different things in life. But, in the last analysis, behind every search in life there is one, eternal, common quest. It is a quest driven by questions such as, “What are we here for?”, “What is it all about?”, and “Is there one, singular purpose in life”. Those who are honest admit to an inescapable yearning for fellowship with the one who is above and beyond this life.

            This quest is driven by disillusionment – disillusionment with striving for more stuff, disillusionment with political activism to correct social ills, and disillusionment with charitable organizations’ ability to meet increasing human need. At one time believing that human power, intellect, and resourcefulness was sufficient for every need, all things spiritual were neglected. That abandonment of the spiritual has shown-up in the Christian pulpit. The pulpit is asked to support ministries that address homelessness, hunger, addiction, and broken relationships rather than proclaim the presence and power of God. What has been experienced is little contentment and even less peace of heart. What eventually dawns upon the church is that all alone, we are not sufficient. The revolt against God has not turned out very well. We need God

            Episcopal pastor and author, Barbara Brown Taylor once heard from church members that they were hungry to know the Bible. She hired professors from a nearby seminary and offered regular courses on the Old and New Testaments. The classes were small and sporadically attended. After multiple starts and failures with various Bible studies Taylor finally realized that “Bible” was a code word for “God.” People were not hungry for information about the Bible; they were hungry for an experience of God.[i]Naturally, Bible study is important. Also important is housing the homeless, feeding the hungry, caring for the addicted, and helping people mend broken relationships. But these are on the circumference rather than the center. It’s like tinkering with a sprinkler system without watering the grass. Without water, the grass dies. Without God, our faith withers.

Joy,

     

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

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

     This simple truth, that we have been filled by Christ, directly impacts the nature of our Christian life. Guidance for our decisions, the pattern of our behavior and inspiration for the common tasks of life each comes from our communion with Christ. This is what the New Testament means by, “walking by the Spirit” – the glad and spontaneous response to the love of the risen and living Christ. Jesus desires to have the same quality of relationship with us as does a good friend. The best of friendships are those that gently but courageously work in the depths of our hearts to change our habits and shape us to be better. It is this influence upon us that Christ seeks.

     Unfortunately, there are some people of faith that never understand this. Their faith is one lived according to the law – a code of religious or moral duties which are accepted as binding. With a clear set of rules in hand, such people strive to please God by sheer effort of self-discipline and restraint. They seek to “get it right” by their own strength, convinced that this is what God wants in a relationship with us. What’s more, they do their best to impose their rules upon others. No one really wants to suffer alone.

     Naturally, there is nothing wrong with living a disciplined life. The exercise of faithful obedience to the teachings of our Lord is an important part of following Jesus provided such a decision is freely accepted and not imposed upon others. But we must never substitute faithful obedience for a loving, grateful and direct relationship with the person of Jesus. God’s call to us has always been one to a relationship with God’s Son, not a rulebook.

     With our primary attention directed to building a relationship with Jesus rather than learning the particulars of a rulebook, life is filled with wonder and mystery and delight. The joy of discovery that is characteristic of any relationship always trumps the experience of being observed by a watchful eye ready to pounce when we stumble. As our relationship with Jesus grows, life is lived with the confidence that one day we will be complete, not because of anything we have accomplished but because of what God has promised to accomplish in those who love him.

Joy,