Author: Ron Poe

“For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested on the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the seventh day and consecrated it.” – Exodus 20.11
 
The Israelites had arrived at God’s holy mountain. It had been three months since they fled the familiar land of Egypt and followed God’s lead into the wilderness. They had crossed the sea, cried out to God in fear that there wouldn’t be enough food or water, witnessed God provide, and arrived at Sinai. Their journey was far from over. This was a stopover on their way to the promised land. They will wander in the wilderness.

At this mountain, they are given a gift from God, ten statements, that they might desire to live as God wills. We often present this gift as a burden. Commandments, or rules, that must be followed, or else. We become caught in “thou shalt not…” and forget these words were intended to remind them and us that God is among God’s people. To these first hearers, this was freedom.

We can see our story in Exodus. As people who have been freed from sin, death, and evil by God’s abundant mercy, we find ourselves wandering in the wildernesses of life. We search for certainty in an unpredictable world. We are unsure of ourselves, we wonder where God is, and we long for the days when life was better before we left the safety of the familiar. Even if it wasn’t healthy, it was at least familiar. We are afraid, even though we have seen God act. How easy it was for the Israelites, and us, to look for and create another god when it seems like God has delayed!

The wilderness can be severe, but it is a place of transformation and growth. It is the place where we learn to rely less on ourselves and more on the Holy One who has promised to raise us up. It is the place where we learn to submit to God’s will and let go of our egos. It is the place where God speaks, and we are found ready to listen. God spoke a gift to the people who were once held in bondage, permission to rest.

This permission extends to you. You have permission to rest in the wilderness. You don’t have to figure out life today. You don’t have to solve all the world’s problems today. You don’t have to do everything perfectly today. You don’t have to “get over it” today, whatever “it” might be. You are invited to trust that God has you, that you are God’s own and loved unconditionally, and let the divine love enfold you as it does, and rest.

“…being fully convinced that God was able to do what God had promised.” – Romans 4:21

Most intimate relationships begin with an abiding trust between two parties. Rarely, do marriages, families, and friendships set out from the place of, “I’ll stay with this until something better comes along, or something better finds me and lures me away.” Yet, because of our human nature, our tendency towards self-absorption to the exclusion of other’s concerns, relationships endure conflict inevitably. These experiences are painful and heartbreaking. Sin doing what sin does, harms our relationship with ourselves, others, the God who made us, and the world that God made. Our negative, inner voice tells us that we may be unlovable. We doubt and wonder, “will they still love me if I am unlovable?”

Our broken nature affirms that negative voice with our siblings in Christ when we become the perpetuation of that cycle of suffering instead of its alleviation. When we doubt our loveliness, we tend towards scarcity and project our harmful self-image, instead of the divine, grace-filled image, on each other. It continues on, generation after generation, relationship after relationship. Is there a way out of this cycle of harm that we exact upon each other? As one of my favorite duos once sang, “Can’t we stop hurting each other…making each other cry…tearing each other apart… without ever knowing why?”

In the play, “By the Skin of Our Teeth,” by Thorton Wilder, at a place of conflict between the main characters, Mr. and Mrs. Antrobus, there were significant doubts about their future together. Mr. Antrobus was asking a similar question when he was feeling unlovable. His spouse reassures him, saying, “I didn’t marry you because you were perfect. I didn’t even marry you because you loved me. I married you because you gave me a promise. That promise made up for your faults. And the promise that I gave you made up for mine. Two imperfect people got married and it was the promise that made the marriage.”

Promises transform us into new people. They give us a new identity, as we are not alone, but connected. Promises bring the power to offer hope and healing in an otherwise disappointing and damaging reality. The promise that God enfleshed in Jesus transforms this world. When human beings fall short of fully giving and receiving love in their unloveliness, God remains faithful, and answers the terrifying question, “Will you still love me when I am unlovable?” with the grace-filled answer, “Yes. You are mine. I love you without condition.” The divine gifts received in that promise heals us and frees us from the cycles of harm that we have created for ourselves and others. The promise forms us into new creations and pulls us out of our inward gazing.  The promise wakes us to see the divine image, the divine promise, in all that God has made, in all whom God made. In this transformation, this conversion, we live by faith in the promise and remember. Remember that we have been, are now, and will be loved in our imperfection, in our unloveliness. God’s promise perfects.

“And baptism, which this prefigured, now saves you.” – 1 Peter 3:21

In the center of Fredsville Lutheran Church, where I did my vicariate year (internship), there is a small, replica of a sailing ship suspended by wires from the ceiling. Fredsville was founded by Danish settlers, and its name means “peaceful village” or “village of peace.” This is a common practice among Danish churches symbolizing the memory of their ancestors who made the journey before them. It is the common ship that sails across the waters of life to our heavenly home. This ancient symbol of the ark represents the church, the body of Christ, always leading God’s beloved to safety and freedom. 

We hear this imagery of the ark from the prayers read during the baptism service. They remind us of our common baptismal journey. One of these prayers read, “by the baptism of his death and resurrection, your Son, Jesus, carried us safely to freedom. The floods shall not overwhelm us, and the deep shall not swallow us up, for Christ has brought us over to the land of promise.” 

Often, the ship of the church sails through rough waters and impassable storms. We cry out like the disciples caught in a storm, “Lord, save us! We are perishing!” (Matthew 8:25) We wonder if Jesus cares about us. We find it hard to have faith when we are overwhelmed. Yet, Jesus does hear our cry. He looks at us with compassion. He stands in the storm and commands, “Peace! Be still!” (Mark 4:39) The wind and the sea obey him because he is God. He reminds us who he is, “I am; Do not be afraid!” (John 6:20)

Jesus went before us into the storm when he accepted death for our sake on the cross and was risen from the dead. He carries us over the sloshing waters of life. He sees us through the damage that we have created by things we have done and failed to do. He does this because of his love for us. He has marked us by his promise, and we are his. We belong to Christ in whom we have been baptized. He forgives our sins, heals our brokenness, and restores our weariness. We are never alone when we go through the storms. The flood of life’s woes does not have the power to overwhelm us or swallow us up, because Christ has already overwhelmed and swallowed up sin, death, and all evil. 

Jesus guides the ship that we are on. Living by faith, we trust that the Holy Spirit is going to fill the sails of our hearts, minds, spirits, and churches with the inexhaustible, divine wind of grace and mercy. We pray that the church, and God’s beloved within it, will always be led to safety and freedom through the hearing of the Gospel until the day comes when all will rest beside still waters in the peaceful village of heavenly rest, the fulfillment and completion of God’s promise to us in our baptism.

“For it is God who said, “Let light shine out of darkness.” – 2 Corinthians 4:6

Several years ago, a friend gifted me a handmade, ceramic coffee mug and ashtray that she had found at a craft fair. Both found a lot of use during my first year of ministry. Unfortunately, for both, it was short-lived. The coffee mug fell in the sink while washing dishes and shattered. The ashtray broke during a healing service when it was knocked off a wooden pedestal accidentally. Like most ceramics who have faced similar fates, they were beyond the power of super-glue to heal them, and sadly found a new home in the trash. 

            St. Paul, writing to the church in Corinth, describes holding a treasure in clay jars. The clay jars represent human fragility. The treasure is the extraordinary power of God to make known the glory of God in Jesus, God’s Holy Spirit. God chose to give this treasure, the awesome free gift of faith, the most precious treasure one can have, to easily shattered hearts, discouraged minds, and overwhelmed bodies. They become witnesses to God’s power to restore wholeness. God’s Spirit raises God’s own to trust in the one who was crucified for them, Jesus. These shattered vessels offer testimony that is by God’s gracious gift alone that we live.

            There will always be difficult days. Sin, death, and evil will always attempt to convince us that they have won. Our life may seem empty of God’s loving and merciful presence. There are days we might feel like giving up, that nothing is ever going to change or get better. We may be tempted to run after quick fixes, reacting to the temporary, failing to trust in the eternal and permanent God, who is holding the world together. We may feel like broken vessels, damaged goods, that no one wants. 

            Yet, the Spirit of God, St. Paul reminds us, that raised Jesus Christ from the dead still lives in you and will raise you up. His and our testimony of God’s saving power is, “We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken, struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in us the body of the death of Jesus to that the life of Jesus may be visible in our bodies.” (2 Cor 4:8-10) God’s beloved carry the death of Jesus because he has carried your death to the cross already. The very God who breathed life into the clay and raised Jesus from the dead breathes new life in you. This power of God repairs the unrepairable and redeems the unredeemable. God makes whole all that is fragile and shattered.

The Lord heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. – Psalm 147.3

At the beginning of each bible study, I ask, “For what shall we pray for today?” We have a regular member of the group who without fail will say, “healing.” There are no specifics given, just healing. This request has been made so often, that even when that person is absent from the gathering, someone else will offer the request in absentia. It is an important reminder that we ought to always pray for healing. It also makes that person present with us, even though absent physically. 

Human beings suffer. Hearts are broken every day. New wounds are opened. Disappointment abounds. Unfulfilled dreams are mourned. Creation longs for its redemption and cries out for the fulfillment of Christ’s promise. The world needs healing.

Try as we might, all the skills and science, the full use of God’s gift of mind, body, and spirit, cannot heal our innate brokenness. The advancements of medicine cannot heal the sin-sick soul. Pandemic and political divisiveness has left in its wake damaged, if not shattered, relationships among families, congregations, and friends. Communities were worn already by differences in opinion and the need to physically, mentally, and spiritually distance from each other. Sadly, there is no vaccine that will prevent the further spread of our most grievous faults that are ingrained in our DNA. People will harm us. We will continue to fail one another. We need healing. 

Martin Luther writes in the Large Catechism, “Suppose there was a physician who had so much skill that people would not die, or even if they died, would afterword live eternally. Just think how the world would snow and rain money upon such a person! Because of the throng of rich people crowding around, no one else would be able to get near. Now, here in Baptism, there is brought free of charge, to every person’s door such a treasure and medicine that swallows up death and keeps all people alive.”

The source of our healing comes from the very promise of Christ given to us in baptism. This baptism has joined us to Christ’s own self, his suffering body. We are joined to his death and therefore rise with him to new life. We do not face our broken-heartedness and woundedness alone, Christ suffers with us and for us. 

Psalm 147 begins with “Praise the Lord!” This psalm was written by those who have returned from their version of distancing, an exile that forced them from the familiar and returned them to the uncertainty of the future. They offered their praise to God for God’s graciousness towards them. They proclaim that the Lord heals the brokenhearted.  The Lord gathers the outcast. The Lord lifts up the downtrodden. They had been witnesses to God’s restorative power in their lives and they gave praise.            

Healing is not easy. It requires time, patience, and much prayer. God’s word has been sent out to us. As God has done before, God will do again. Cling to the promise of the good news, the only treasure and medicine that can heal us is Christ crucified for you. The Lord is with you. Healing will happen. Praise the Lord.

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; all those who practice it have a good understanding. – Psalm 111.10

Fear. Wonder. Awe. When I was preparing to be confirmed, we were encouraged to learn the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit. For those unfamiliar with them, they are found in the 11^th chapter of Isaiah and are gifts bestowed on the branch from the stump of Jesse, Jesus, the prophesied messiah. As Christians, who are joined to Christ in baptism, we share in these sevenfold gifts from on high. The seven gifts are traditionally listed as wisdom, understanding, knowledge, strength, counsel, piety, and fear of the Lord. These gifts are given to reveal Christ and empower those who believe to follow him.

            Of the seven, I feel the most misunderstood is “fear of the Lord.” We associate “fear” with scary. We are fearful of many things, loss, loneliness, illness, poverty, and death. We may ask ourselves, “Why would God, who is our only source of hope, healing, and salvation, be something to be feared?” “If God is love, and loves us unconditionally, perfecting our conditional and limited love, why should I be afraid?” St. Paul reminds us in Romans, “For you didn’t receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry ‘Abba! Father!’ it is that Spirit bearing witness that we are children of God.” (Romans 8:15-16). How can we be afraid of the God who is “for us?” (Romans 8:31)

            I was taught to consider fear in terms of “wonder” and “awe.” These better capture “fear of the Lord.” “Great are the works the Lord, studied by all who delight in them,” writes the Psalmist. Our eyes, opened by this gift, enable us to see God’s magnificent and continuous work of love in the world. Awe of God’s good creation, such as the Desert National Wildlife Refuge or Red Rock Canyon, stirs us to praise the One who made us. Wonder grows in us as holy curiosity leads us to ponder deep in our hearts, the mysteries of God’s Word and what God is doing in our lives and the lives of those God loves. Wonder and awe of the Lord lay the foundation for a heart and mind to be focused on higher, greater things and thus lead us to God’s will.            By this gift, God’s people are transformed to daily recognize that we are “not God” and to receive that as good news. Only God can be God; we can only be God’s beloved creation. From this place, wisdom grows, knowledge deepens, and understanding develops. We are strengthened and consoled as we wrestle through the difficulties of this life. A spirit-filled hymn sings in our ears, “we’ve come this far by faith, trusting in your holy Word, he’s never failed us yet.” In fear, wonder, and awe, we behold the one who makes all things new.

For God alone my soul waits in silence, from God comes my salvation – Psalm 62:1

I keep an old shoebox of handwritten letters that were sent to me in the first years of adulthood. Every now and again, I unbury the box, read through a few of them, and transport to a person twenty year ago with different dreams, concerns, and priorities. I loved to send letters to friends and family, and there was tremendous joy when I would receive their replies. There was a silent, caring beauty about the cycle, especially knowing that at one time, someone took the time to handwrite, stamp, and send a letter. Letter writing’s sunset has long since passed with the rise of the speed and efficiency of text messaging and email, and I feel that we lost something precious and necessary for our lives in this advance of technology, the ability to write silently and to wait patiently for a reply. 

Along the same road, I remember the days when I was more comfortable missing a phone call, caused by leaving the phone at home because the cord wasn’t long enough. I didn’t purchase my first cell phone until I was 22. How did we ever function without this leash attached to us that provides connection, information, and entertainment every second of every day at our fingertips? Card catalogs, board games, waiting six to eight weeks for delivery, and actual conversation were all things that subconsciously taught us to be patient with ourselves and others.

These instant conveniences seep into our souls and cause us to despair when we think God is too silent, for too long. We forget that God doesn’t work in our schedule. Consequently, we pollute these gifted moments of silence with social media, podcasts, and cable news. This makes it near impossible to hear that still, gentle voice of our maker and obstructs our view that God alone is the source of our salvation. We build a crumbling fortress on the noise we ingest and the silence we reject and are surprised to discover how easily shaken we are by every wave that comes our way.

However, the good news doesn’t evade us, there is freedom from our impatience and our noise. There is always hope. We can return and renew, rebel against the encroaching information overload. We can begin to retrain ourselves to listen and be patient. 

We can turn it off. 

            Not forever, but for a time, after all this isn’t intended to be a luddite’s rant. Technology is beneficial and essential when used in moderation and for health and safety. For now, the newspaper, the Facebook page, and the television can wait. The smart phone can be put down. We can spend some time in the uncomfortable silence. We can meditate, breathe deeply. We can write a letter to a dear friend, itself a form of meditation. You don’t have to send it, because that letter can be a place where we pour our hearts out before God, a prayer written to the one who is our refuge. We can once again tune our ears, our minds, and our hearts to the God whose steadfast love calls to us.             In this, we might share the psalmist’s encounter with the divine, “Once God has spoken, twice have I heard this; that power belongs to our God, and steadfast love belongs to you, O Lord.” In the gift of silence, we learn to trust again.