Tag: #presbyteriandelraybeach

Occasionally, many who pray experience an inadequacy—an inadequacy of words, an inadequacy of expression of a deep longing or need. In those moments, this teaching from the Book of Romans offers the assistance of the Spirit. When words fail us, the Spirit is sufficient to overcome our difficulty. John Calvin, a leading church leader in the 1500s, beautifully notes, “we are supplied with heavenly assistance and strength.”[iii]Simply, the promise here is that we are not left alone in our stumbling for adequate words. We are transported to Dostoyevsky’s bridge, where we meet the Spirit who speaks to God on our behalf. We knock on God’s door in prayer and God responds with an impulse of the heart that we are understood even in the absence of words. As the protagonist in Dostoyevsky’s story, we also experience a powerful sense of intimacy—an intimacy with God through the intercession of the Spirit. 

It is the ultimate paradox—where we are the weakest, God’s power is the strongest. Unable to pray, as God would have us pray, the Holy Spirit searches our hearts and crafts prayers on our behalf. It is, finally, an act of grace. Where we are inadequate, God completes the work of prayer. It is work because it results in changes in attitudes and behavior—changes that are the direct outcome of prayer. It is sacred work because it results in a conversion from seeking God’s blessings for our own small projects to becoming captivated by God’s hopes and dreams for us. The Spirit’s prayer on our behalf results in an interruption of our lives. We become attached more firmly to God’s redemptive work in the world. Looking back on the shape and character of our former prayers, we realize how inadequate they really were. They were about us, not God. They were about our individual pursuits, not about a life in a relationship with God.

What remains is a promise. When we don’t know how to pray, when we are at a loss to communicate effectively with our Lord, the Spirit restores communication. From the earliest pages of the Bible, we see that human rebellion and sin broke intimacy with God. That resulted in our hiding from God when God came walking in our garden. With “unexpressed groans,” the Spirit pleads our case before God. We know that God is receptive to the prayers of the Spirit on our behalf because the Spirit “pleads for the saints, consistent with God’s will.” (Romans 8:27) Now we have confidence in our relationship with God—and for our future—because both are now held in God’s grasp, not ours. Without the Spirit interceding on our behalf, it is a certainty that we would continue stumbling in sin and hiding from God. Because God has now taken control of our feeble utterances we can now rest quietly before God, confident that the Spirit will express well our longings.

Joy,

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  [i]Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Best Short Stories of Fyodor Dostoyevsky. (London: Folio Society, 2021) p. 3-48.

[ii]Dostoyevsky, 11.

[iii]John Calvin, Theological Foundations: John Calvin, Commentary on Romans. (Nashville: B&H Academic, 2022) 198. 

The following meditation was written by Hannah Anglemyer, a youth at First Presbyterian Church of Delray Beach.

My math teacher from my freshman year of high school had a tradition each year right before we took midterms. She went around to each one of her classes with a little black bag containing a bunch of tiny rocks with motivational sayings or phrases etched into the front. Then, without knowing what the rocks say, we all reached inside and grabbed one. According to her, the rock you grabbed is supposed to be something you need or something that can motivate you to get through midterms. The rock I grabbed had the word “gratitude” etched into its front. And so, taking its advice, I thanked my teacher for the gift and tucked it into a tiny pocket of my backpack I almost never touch. See, when I reach into my backpack, I’m usually looking for something—my trigonometry notes, my calculator, my Chinese textbook—or because I have midterms, tests, and then finals to worry about. But now, I’m a sophomore, and that’s all still true! But my homework takes longer, my tests are harder, and for the first time ever, math doesn’t make as much sense anymore. So I forgot about that little rock.

That was until a couple of weeks ago when I happened to reach into that same forgotten pocket and found that little rock right where I had first left it, the word “gratitude” still etched into its front. At first, I smiled at the memory and my teacher’s kind gesture. Then I started to think. In the little over a year since I had first placed the rock in my backpack, I had become incredibly consumed by the homework I still needed to do, the test grades I didn’t yet know, and by my math grade—which is lower than I would like. Finding the rock reminded me that even in the tiny world of high school, I still have so much to be grateful for. Though my math grade may not be what I want, it has improved from where it was! My teacher has gone out of her way to meet with me on several occasions to help me better understand the material, and every academic challenge I’ve faced has helped me to develop better study and time management habits. But it’s easy to forget about gratitude when you’re charging ahead to what comes next. It’s difficult to pause and be grateful for what’s in front of you right now.

I’ve found that applies outside of school, too. When I was younger, my family and I would spend a large portion of the summer with my grandparents in the North Carolina mountains. One of our favorite activities were going on long walks or hikes together. Whenever we set out, I was always very eager for the adventures that lay ahead, oftentimes volunteering to wear a very stylish fanny pack, even when the length of a hike really didn’t necessitate it. But, my attitude usually changed around halfway in. I would start to complain that I was tired of walking and could think of nothing but getting back home to a yummy snack and my favorite kids’ show. My grandfather “Doc-Doc” usually had other ideas, and he always seemed to find ways to add to the length of a hike, never missing a teachable moment. He would often pause to ask what felt like ten million questions: “So Hannah, what type of plant is this,” or “so Hannah, can you name that mountain?” As expected for a kid my age, I almost never answered correctly, which meant an even longer conversation involving a history or science lesson. Despite being moments I now look back on fondly, my eagerness to get back home prevented me from appreciating this time with family and the incredible beauty of God’s creation surrounding me. Looking ahead to what could come next prevented me from being content with the blessings right in front of me.

In his Epistle to the Philippians, Paul writes that he has learned “the secret to being content in any and every circumstance, whether full or hungry or whether having plenty or being poor.” It sounds like an incredible secret; after all, it’s not easy to be content with the present when you don’t know what the future holds. But Paul gives away the secret in the next line. He says he is able to “endure all these things through the power of the one who gives [him] strength.” When we struggle to take moments to show gratitude or find ourselves ignoring what we already have, Paul teaches us to turn to God. Through God, we are able to find peace with what is in front of us now and give proper gratitude for all we have.

Joy,

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,

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ⁱ Clayton 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.

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

ⁱⁱⁱ Long, 76.

The following meditation is by Dr. Michael B. Brown, former senior minister of Marble Collegiate Church in New York City.

The late Dr. Charlie White told a humorous story about an elderly woman deep in the Ozark Mountains. She possessed very little in material ways, but always maintained a spirit thankfulness for what she did have. When asked to say Grace at a family holiday dinner (with a huge spread on the table), she bowed her head and said: “Dear Lord, as I look at this food I find myself thinking, I may have only two teeth, but thank God they both meet!”  

Laughter is good medicine, the Bible tells us (Proverbs 17:22). It can also be the source of deep wisdom, as in the story of that woman who said Grace. An attitude of gratitude focuses not so much on the amount of possessions as on their quality. My dad was a man with that sort of perspective about things. As a teen, whenever I would return from a friend’s house and remark to Dad about how big and beautiful it was, he had a standard answer: “You can’t live in but one room at a time.” Or, when I would brag (hint, perhaps?) about some buddy’s new car and how great it was, he would say: “The purpose of a car is to get you safely from Point A to Point B. Yours does that, so it’s a `good’ car.” The older I grow, the more I understand the astuteness of his words.

This doesn’t mean, of course, that we should denigrate nice things or fail to appreciate such things when we possess them. It is rather to say that anything which is useful, anything that brings joy or comfort, is a “nice thing.” Think of Mary, as Luke tells her story in the first chapter of his gospel. 

• She is an unwed young girl (probably in her early teens). 
• She is betrothed (engaged in a legally binding way). 
• She and her fiancee are not people of means. 
• She is startled (Luke says “confused”) by an unexpected angel who brings an equally unexpected message. Mary “will conceive and give birth to a son” though, in her own words, she has not been “with no man.” (Luke 1:28-34)

At that moment, Mary was sure of a handful of things:

• Joseph would neither believe nor understand this strange tale, and he would in all likelihood end their relationship. 
• Neither his family nor her own would take her at her word.
• In her small town where everyone knew everyone else, her reputation would be ruined (she would be forever branded with a scarlet letter).
• Even her life could be in danger, as infidelity when betrothed was a capital offense should the betrayed party choose to pursue it. 

No wonder that young girl was alarmed. And yet, when she assessed the situation in its full context, and when she focused on the angel’s words, “the one who is to be born will be holy. He will be called God’s Son (Luke 1:35),” Mary exclaimed not with fear but with joy: “The mighty one has done great things for me!” (Luke 1:49)

Mary had every reason to envy others who possessed more, or to lament the challenges that had been placed before her. But instead, she focused on the blessings, hope in the midst of hard times, goodness located in a world of challenge. She realized it is not the quantity of one’s possessions that matter, but rather the quality. And what could bring greater quality than to know she had a personal relation with the Holy One who “will be called God’s Son”? (Luke 1:35) Her awareness of quality and her gratitude for it brought her a sense of deep joy. “The mighty one has done great things for me!” That’s the place we always wind up if we cultivate attitudes of gratitude.

Joy,

Nicodemus calls the church to a ministry of imagination. A Pharisee, Nicodemus departs from the narrow, walled-in sectarian views of his colleagues and comes to Jesus in sympathetic inquiry. Perhaps Nicodemus is weary of the wooden, cramping, and belittling understanding of the Bible that limits fellowship with others of another point of view. Perhaps Nicodemus fears that barriers of thought and divisions in the fellowship of faith can produce nothing higher than spiritual dwarfs. Perhaps Nicodemus simply wishes for a more expansive and imaginative faith and believes that Jesus can offer the necessary nutriment. For whatever reason, Nicodemus comes to Jesus.

A large faith, a full-grown faith must borrow from others. The genius of maturity is the recognition that a wider vision of this life demands the stimulus of thought found in another’s wealth. No one discovers adequate nourishment for their own development within the poverty of self-centeredness and narrow-mindedness. If we are to exercise ourselves in the wider vision of imagination—as does Nicodemus—we must listen sympathetically to understandings not our own. Otherwise, we exist only in an echo chamber, our thought never growing, never expanding. It is well documented that even Shakespeare fetched his water of inspiration from the wells of other great thinkers and writers.

J. H. Jowett reflects that one’s life, thinking, and theology will remain comparatively dormant unless it is breathed upon by the bracing influence of fellowship of thought that is beyond our own.[1] Communion with viewpoints on every side, viewpoints to both the left and right of our own grasp of the Bible and the world of thought, lifts our powers for imagination. It is in a grand and inquisitive imagination that our faith discovers strength and grand proportions. It is where we acknowledge that Jesus is more than anyone can ever fully grasp.

It would be well if persons of faith were to exercise the same imaginative curiosity as Nicodemus. Sincere recognition of another’s position, appreciation for another’s point of view, and discovery of another’s purpose and aim in faith strengthen the fellowship of the church. Rather than “leaving the table” when disagreements of faith arise, perhaps it would be a richer and more spacious church if we recall the largest common denominator that has always held the people of faith together, the Lordship of Jesus Christ.

Joy

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[1] Jowett, J.H., Thirsting for the Springs: Twenty-Six Weeknight Meditations, London: H.R. Allension, Limited, 1907, 193.

One of the most moving—and inspiring—moments in any athletic completion is that one where an athlete stumbles and another competitor goes back to offer help. The tone of the moment is transformed from a test of strength and speed to one of mutual humanity, sharing in one another’s frailties. Such moments remind us of something nobler than defeating another in a game of skill, strength, and speed. Competition may push each of us to realize our best potential—and that is good. But more extraordinary are moments that reveal our common infirmities; moments where we strengthen one another in the storms of life.

This is not so with God; it must not be so. Unfailing strength is the very nature of God. Yet, here Isaiah fashions for us a sharp contrast between gods that are carried and a God that carries us or, as Henry Sloane Coffin once observed, “Between religion as a load and religion as a lift.”[1] In another of Isaiah’s tirades against idols, against imaginary gods, he provides the reader with graphic clarity of the gods of Babylon bobbing and swaying in an absurdly undignified fashion on the backs of animals. Weary from the weight of these gods, the animals strain to move forward as the frightened devotees lead the animals to a place of safety away from the invading armies. What a picture; ordinary, mortal human beings struggling to secure the safety of gods! Isaiah intends for this to strike us as absurd.

Isaiah then contrasts this ridiculous image with the living God, the God who bore Israel in his arms from its birth and has carried it ever since. The prophet would have us understand that a burdensome religion is a false religion; that a god which must be taken care of is not a faith that can sustain us. Israel needs, as do we, a faith that takes care of us. Communion with the God of Israel is a faith that always shifts the weight of life to God, not the other way around. And Isaiah wants us to know that if we ever feel that we are carrying our religion, that if faith has become burdensome, then our gaze has moved from the one, true living God.

The wonderful teacher of the Christian faith, Paul Tillich, once commented that we are not asked to grasp the faith of the Old and New Testament but, rather, are called to be grasped by it.[2] A Christian’s beliefs are not a set of propositions that we are compelled to accept. That would be a burdensome religion. The Christian faith is an invitation from a living God to come and be held in God’s grasp, to be lifted and carried along through the difficulties of life we must all face. We may struggle at times to free ourselves from God’s embrace, to go through life alone, in our own strength. But sooner or later, we will become as weary as the animals carrying the idols of Bel and Nebo. And when we are depleted, God will be there.

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[1] Coffin, Joy in Believing, 8.

[2] Captured from lecture given by Thomas G. Long in summer of 1992, Princeton Theological Seminary.