The Seventh Word: “Father, into your hands…” (April 6, 2012)

Published on by Adam ThomasLeave a comment

…Opening To…

Sing, my tongue, the glorious battle; of the mighty conflict sing; tell the triumph of the victim, to his cross thy tribute bring. Jesus Christ the world’s Redeemer from that cross now reigns as King. (Venantius Honorius Fortunatus, from The Hymnal 1982)

…Listening In…

It was now about noon, and darkness covered the whole earth until about three o’clock, while the sun stopped shining. Then the curtain in the sanctuary tore down the middle. Crying out in a loud voice, Jesus said, “Father, into your hands I entrust my life.” After he said this, he breathed for the last time. (Luke 23:44-46; context)

…Filling Up…

For the last seven devos of Lent: last week and during this Holy Week, we are encountering Christ’s seven last words from the cross. These “words” are actually full sentences, and there are three in Luke, three in John, and Matthew and Mark share one, as well (though with a slight variation). For each of the words, I have written a song; now, the songs may or may not include the sayings themselves. Rather, think of them as my response to Jesus speaking out from the cross, a place of vulnerability, shame, and torment – that Jesus turned into a place of majesty, love, and salvation.

For each song, I gave myself no more than two hours to write and one hour to record it. These are by no means polished songs; they are the responses of my heart to Christ crucified. I hope that they enrich you on your Holy Week journey as they have enriched me. What follows is “How I’m Designed,” my response to Jesus’ seventh word from the cross.

(If you can’t see the music player, download the song here.)

In you, O Lord, have I taken refuge;
You wrote your word on my heart but then,
Lord, I forget at times I bear your good news;
Stick to my net and fail to fish for men.

There’s so much dross and it clutters my heart,
And yet the loss of that stuff is naught
Because I know the love of Christ surpasses
All things below, and everything I’ve got.

Into your hands I commend my spirit:
Let go my plans and take your will as mine.
In your commands I find perfect freedom;
I understand that’s how I’m designed –

To function best when I empty myself,
To take my rest in your love each day;
And in my choice between what’s right or easy,
I hear your voice: God, help me to obey.

Into your hands I commend my spirit:
Let go my plans and take your will as mine.
In your commands I find perfect freedom;
I understand that’s how I’m designed –

To show your grace to each person I meet,
To see your face in the poor and lost.
And when I choose to turn my back to cruelty,
Help me to lose my will no matter the cost.

Into your hands I commend my spirit:
Let go my plans and take your will as mine.
In your commands I find perfect freedom;
I understand that’s how I’m designed –
To take your hand and notice how I shine.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you designed me to fulfill your purposes in this world. Help me to let go of my own will so that I can embrace yours, which leads to freedom and joy. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, kneeling at the foot of the cross and feeling Christ’s arms of love reaching out to embrace the whole world.

The Sixth Word: “It is completed” (April 5, 2012)

Published on by Adam ThomasLeave a comment

…Opening To…

Sing, my tongue, the glorious battle; of the mighty conflict sing; tell the triumph of the victim, to his cross thy tribute bring. Jesus Christ the world’s Redeemer from that cross now reigns as King. (Venantius Honorius Fortunatus, from The Hymnal 1982)

…Listening In…

When he had received the sour wine, Jesus said, “It is completed.” Bowing his head, he gave up his life. (John 19:30; context)

…Filling Up…

For the last seven devos of Lent: last week and during this Holy Week, we are encountering Christ’s seven last words from the cross. These “words” are actually full sentences, and there are three in Luke, three in John, and Matthew and Mark share one, as well (though with a slight variation). For each of the words, I have written a song; now, the songs may or may not include the sayings themselves. Rather, think of them as my response to Jesus speaking out from the cross, a place of vulnerability, shame, and torment – that Jesus turned into a place of majesty, love, and salvation.

For each song, I gave myself no more than two hours to write and one hour to record it. These are by no means polished songs; they are the responses of my heart to Christ crucified. I hope that they enrich you on your Holy Week journey as they have enriched me. What follows is “Ten Years,” my response to Jesus’ fourth word from the cross.

(If you can’t see the music player, download the song here.)

I was sitting in the back pew on a Sunday morn
Pondering the sermon when my heart felt strangely warm
Whispers of grace set my life ablaze
And I heard you say, “I’ll be with you for all of your days.”

In the spring the next year I was reading from your saints,
And I saw my life clear as a brilliant artist paints.
The plan of your call there for me to see,
But the path was never as clear as I wanted it to be.

I’ve followed you for ten years,
Sometimes near and sometimes far;
You gave me courage when fears
Told me you’re not who you say you are.
But I wonder what you finished
On that cross at Calvary;
Is it just a faint wish
To believe you saved me?
‘Cause I’ve followed you for ten years
and the journey’s long and rough;
Sometimes I waver then hear
Someone say your grace is good enough.
But the fear still pulls me under,
The light seems far away.
Forgive me that I wonder
What did you finish that day?

I was saying healing prayers for teens one summer when
The Holy Spirit flowed through me and brought new life to them.
When we were done, I just sat and cried;
I was unprepared for how much God I could keep inside.

Nearly two months into first year classes at my school,
I was reading prayers at chapel, felt like such a fool.
Called you by name, but no prayer was found:
How could I be praying everyday and forget you’re around?

How come I can hear your call and ignore it just the same?
How come I can know you heal, yet pretend that I’m still lame?
You never said that this life I chose
Would be easy but you promised to be with me till the close.

…Praying For…

Dear God, help me to know that doubt is a part of faith. Help me to know that the good work you have started in me is far from complete, but is ever moving towards fulfillment. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, kneeling at the foot of the cross and feeling Christ’s arms of love reaching out to embrace the whole world.

The Fifth Word: “I am thirsty” (April 4, 2012)

Published on by Adam ThomasLeave a comment

…Opening To…

Sing, my tongue, the glorious battle; of the mighty conflict sing; tell the triumph of the victim, to his cross thy tribute bring. Jesus Christ the world’s Redeemer from that cross now reigns as King. (Venantius Honorius Fortunatus, from The Hymnal 1982)

…Listening In…

After this, knowing that everything was already completed, in order to fulfill the scripture, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” A jar full of sour wine was nearby, so the soldiers soaked a sponge in it, placed it on a hyssop branch, and held it up to his lips. (John 19:28-29; context)

…Filling Up…

For the last seven devos of Lent: last week and during this Holy Week, we are encountering Christ’s seven last words from the cross. These “words” are actually full sentences, and there are three in Luke, three in John, and Matthew and Mark share one, as well (though with a slight variation). For each of the words, I have written a song; now, the songs may or may not include the sayings themselves. Rather, think of them as my response to Jesus speaking out from the cross, a place of vulnerability, shame, and torment – that Jesus turned into a place of majesty, love, and salvation.

For each song, I gave myself no more than two hours to write and one hour to record it. These are by no means polished songs; they are the responses of my heart to Christ crucified. I hope that they enrich you on your Holy Week journey as they have enriched me. What follows is “The Well is Deep,” my response to Jesus’ fourth word from the cross.

(If you can’t see the music player, download the song here.)

As the deer longs for the water-brooks
So my soul longs after you.
My spirit is athirst for God,
Athirst for all that’s good and true.

But I have no bucket and the well is deep:
I see the water down below
Could life eternal gush up like a spring
The well begin to overflow?

The desert is a place of emptiness,
But God makes it a place of springs.
The sand will be afire with blossoms;
The desert shall rejoice and sing.

But I have no bucket and the well is deep:
I see the water down below
Could life eternal gush up like a spring
And the well begin to overflow?

From the throne of God a river flows,
Bright as crystal, fresh as birth.
The river waters trees of healing;
God rain grace upon the earth.

Now I know I need no bucket though the well is deep,
And though the water’s far below.
For life eternal gushes like a spring.
The well will always overflow.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you are the source of all refreshment and renewal. Help me ever to drink from your love, that I may remain nourished by your grace and ready to serve. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, kneeling at the foot of the cross and feeling Christ’s arms of love reaching out to embrace the whole world.

The Fourth Word: “My God, my God…” (April 3, 2012)

Published on by Adam Thomas1 Comment

…Opening To…

Sing, my tongue, the glorious battle; of the mighty conflict sing; tell the triumph of the victim, to his cross thy tribute bring. Jesus Christ the world’s Redeemer from that cross now reigns as King. (Venantius Honorius Fortunatus, from The Hymnal 1982)

…Listening In…

From noon until three in the afternoon the whole earth was dark. At three, Jesus cried out with a loud shout, “Eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani,” which means, “My God, my God, why have you left me?” (Mark 15:33-34; context)

…Filling Up…

For the last seven devos of Lent: last week and during this Holy Week, we are encountering Christ’s seven last words from the cross. These “words” are actually full sentences, and there are three in Luke, three in John, and Matthew and Mark share one, as well (though with a slight variation). For each of the words, I have written a song; now, the songs may or may not include the sayings themselves. Rather, think of them as my response to Jesus speaking out from the cross, a place of vulnerability, shame, and torment – that Jesus turned into a place of majesty, love, and salvation.

For each song, I gave myself no more than two hours to write and one hour to record it. These are by no means polished songs; they are the responses of my heart to Christ crucified. I hope that they enrich you on your Holy Week journey as they have enriched me. What follows is “The Torrents Overtake Me,” my response to Jesus’ fourth word from the cross.

(If you can’t see the music player, download the song here.)

A year ago I came up from the water
The river flowed around me as I watched
A spotless dove descend.
I heard the thunder from the sky say,  “You are my son.”
I stared in wonder at the dove and knew
How this would end.

In back I slept right through a raging storm out at sea,
The water swept up o’er the deck and then
We started to sink.
I told the squall, the waves, the winds: “Peace be still.”
And through it all you were with me, so what
Was I supposed to think?

My God, why did you forsake me?
Let the current pull me and the torrents overtake me?
My God, you could have emptied my cup
But we both know I’ll never give up.

A week ago I rode into Jerusalem;
The people showed their love for me that day,
How could that offend?
Then yesterday the people turned their backs on me
I was betrayed, abandoned, and denied
By those who are my friends.

My God, why did you forsake me?
Let the current pull me and the torrents overtake me?
My God, you could have emptied my cup
But we both know I’ll never give up.

My hands are screaming at the blinding pain of the nails,
And I keep dreaming that this fight will end
So I can die.
My breath is gone, I can’t keep any air in my lungs,
The pain goes on so I know I’m still alive,
All you who pass by —

As for me, I am a worm and no man,
Scorned by the people,
All who see laugh me to scorn
They curl their lips and wag their heads and say
He trusted in God, should not God rescue him?
Like the nails their words stung
But I chose this cup before the world was young.

But my God, why did you forsake me?
Let the current pull me and the torrents overtake me?
My God, you could have emptied my cup
But we both know I’ll never give up.

…Praying For…

Dear God, Jesus took on all human pain on the cross, even the pain of feeling abandoned. Thank you for knowing how that feels, and help me to wish to seek you when I feel alone. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, kneeling at the foot of the cross and feeling Christ’s arms of love reaching out to embrace the whole world.

The Third Word: “Here is your son…” (April 2, 2012)

Published on by Adam Thomas1 Comment

…Opening To…

Sing, my tongue, the glorious battle; of the mighty conflict sing; tell the triumph of the victim, to his cross thy tribute bring. Jesus Christ the world’s Redeemer from that cross now reigns as King. (Venantius Honorius Fortunatus, from The Hymnal 1982)

…Listening In…

Jesus’ mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene stood near the cross. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that time on, this disciple took her into his home. (John 19:25-27; context)

…Filling Up…

For the last seven devos of Lent: last week and during this Holy Week, we are encountering Christ’s seven last words from the cross. These “words” are actually full sentences, and there are three in Luke, three in John, and Matthew and Mark share one, as well (though with a slight variation). For each of the words, I have written a song; now, the songs may or may not include the sayings themselves. Rather, think of them as my response to Jesus speaking out from the cross, a place of vulnerability, shame, and torment – that Jesus turned into a place of majesty, love, and salvation.

For each song, I gave myself no more than two hours to write and record it. These are by no means polished songs; they are the responses of my heart to Christ crucified. I hope that they enrich you on your Holy Week journey as they have enriched me. What follows is “How He Loves,” my response to Jesus’ third word from the cross.

(If you can’t see the music player, download the song here.)

I’m standing at the foot of the cross,
And everyone around me is a stranger.
Then I see her standing, looking so lost—
She sees the boy she once laid in a manger.
She falls to her knees
Saying, “Please, oh someone, please
Help my son.”
I look at the nails,
And all my courage fails:
I come undone.

She’s kneeling barely ten feet away,
But it feels like half the planet is between us.
I look at Jesus: bloody, betrayed;
And I wonder if it’s possible he’s seen us.
He looks back at me,
Saying, “See your mother, see.
Help her, John.
You are her son:
A family begun
Before I’m gone.”

I’m standing at the foot of the cross,
And the woman next to me is my new mother.
His commandment has a beautiful cost:
To show we are his friends we love each other.
I take Mary’s hand,
Saying, “I don’t understand
How he loves.
But this is my prayer
That in his love we’ll share,
O God above—”

For God is love.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you gave us the commandment to love each other us you love us. Help me to take seriously this call to love, for you made me in your image and you are love. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, kneeling at the foot of the cross and feeling Christ’s arms of love reaching out to embrace the whole world.

The Unfair Fight

Published on by Adam ThomasLeave a comment

(Sermon for Sunday, April 1, 2012 || Palm Sunday Year B || Mark 11:1-11; Philippians 2:5-11 (NOTE: At my church, we read the Passion Gospel at the end of the service, so this sermon moves from Palms to Passion.))

I’ve always been struck by the incongruity of the scene. A crowd lines the dusty road leading up to the gate of Jerusalem. They are there to see a parade, but the spectacle is just a fellow riding a baby donkey. People spread their cloaks on the ground as a sign of respect. But Jesus isn’t stepping on the cloaks: the donkey is.

The crowd shouts aloud, “Hosanna! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!” Now when David entered Jerusalem, he did so at the front of a grand procession – “all the house of Israel,” II Samuel tells us. They were carrying the Ark of the Covenant. There were shouts and the sound of the trumpet and the sacrifice of an ox and a fatling. And “David danced before the Lord with all his might.” David had just defeated the Philistines and his dynasty was assured. His triumphant march into the city was a victory march.

But when Jesus rides to Jerusalem, he rides alone. No army. No conquering legions. The people in the crowd shout for the return of the kingdom of David, but all they see is a lone man atop a baby donkey. As I said, I’ve always been struck by the incongruity of this scene.

Sensing something to be incongruous – to be out-of-place – means that there are expectations that are not being met. If you go to a job interview at State Street in a t-shirt and jeans, there’s a better than average chance that the interviewer will take one look at you and send you home. The interviewer has the expectation that you will enter the room in your best suit, and the incongruity of your casual clothes will trigger discomfort and then disapproval in the interviewer. But say that you wear your t-shirt and jeans to the park to throw a Frisbee with the guys. No incongruity there. The expectations match the scenario.

When Jesus rides into Jerusalem on the back of the baby donkey, he is actively challenging the expectations of the crowd that is shouting “Hosannas.” They praise him while he rides in humility. They celebrate his arrival in the capital city while he knows the outcome of his arrival will be bloody. They show him the respect due to royalty. And all the while Jesus is boldly defying the people who have no respect for him, the chief priests and their lackeys, who have until now hoped he would keep a lower profile.

And in the greatest incongruity of all, the crowd shouts for the return of David’s kingdom; that is, a kingdom marked by a sovereign Israel, an Israel with no Roman occupiers. But Jesus frustrates this expectation, as well. In this case, the crowd is thinking too small. They have only their own country on their minds. But Jesus isn’t concerned with the Romans. They’re small potatoes. When Jesus rides into Jerusalem on the back of that baby donkey, he sets in motion events that will drive out, not the Romans, but the power of death, the grip of evil, all the forces of darkness. No wonder no one was expecting that.

Jesus hovers above the crowd, sitting atop the donkey as the beast shambles ahead. He remains above the crowd not for the glory of the exalted position, but in order that the powers of death, evil, and darkness might get a clear view of their target. And in seeing this small, humble human being, those powers underestimate their foe.

The powers of darkness do not realize that this Jesus riding on the donkey is someone they’ve met before, albeit in a more glorious form. In his letter to the Philippians, Paul tells us why the powers don’t recognize Jesus. Paul says, “Though [Christ] was in the form of God, [he] did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death–even death on a cross.”

The powers of darkness have their expectations too. The incongruity of Christ’s humanity throws them. They have no idea who they’re dealing with because Jesus acts in ways they never expect. While the powers of darkness would always seek to exploit, Christ empties. While they would always seek self-aggrandizement, Christ humbles. While they would always seek to get their own way, Christ becomes obedient to the point of death.

How could the powers of darkness possibly think they could win if they completely underestimate their opponent? And all the while, Christ is here on earth, learning all about the darkness, participating in the brokenness of people’s lives, bringing wholeness, bringing hope, bringing light.

And yet, the darkness sees the little man on the back of the baby donkey and wishes for a more impressive opponent, if only so the fight would be more interesting. But what the darkness fails to realize is that this is the most unfair fight of all time.

The powers of darkness bring all of their standard weapons to the ring: fear, mistrust, the desire to dominate. They expect Jesus to bring the same. But Jesus brings no weapons at all. Instead, he brings the willingness to sacrifice. He brings the love that gives him the courage to lay down his life. He brings the peace that passes all understanding.

They are David and Goliath, and David left his sling at home. Normal expectations would ask how Jesus could possibly win this fight. But we know the incongruity of God’s love. We know that God loves us even though we don’t deserve such an amazing gift. We know that God loves this broken, messed-up world so much that God sent God’s only Son to save the world. We know that God rejoices in letting us in on the secret that our expectations are always too small. God let slip this secret when the women went to the tomb on Easter morning.

But we’ll get there with them next week. First, the powers of darkness marshal. First, Jesus rides humbly into the teeth of the storm. First, the battle.

The Second Word: “You will be with me in paradise…” (March 30, 2012)

Published on by Adam Thomas1 Comment

…Opening To…

Sing, my tongue, the glorious battle; of the mighty conflict sing; tell the triumph of the victim, to his cross thy tribute bring. Jesus Christ the world’s Redeemer from that cross now reigns as King. (Venantius Honorius Fortunatus, from The Hymnal 1982)

…Listening In…

Responding, the other criminal spoke harshly to him, “Don’t you fear God, seeing that you’ve also been sentenced to die? We are rightly condemned, for we are receiving the appropriate sentence for what we did. But this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus replied, “I assure you that today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:40-43; context)

…Filling Up…

For the last seven devos of Lent: yesterday, today, and during Holy Week, we are encountering Christ’s seven last words from the cross. These “words” are actually full sentences, and there are three in Luke, three in John, and Matthew and Mark share one, as well (though with a slight variation). For each of the words, I have written a song; now, the songs may or may not include the sayings themselves. Rather, think of them as my response to Jesus speaking out from the cross, a place of vulnerability, shame, and torment – that Jesus turned into a place of majesty, love, and salvation.

For each song, I gave myself no more than two hours to write it and one to record it. These are by no means polished songs; they are the responses of my heart to Christ crucified. I hope that they enrich you on your Holy Week journey as they have enriched me. What follows is “Remember Me,” my response to Jesus’ second word from the cross.

(If you can’t see the music player, download the song here.)

Remember the child with the arms like twigs
Sitting in the dirt,
Remember the student going back to school
Trying on a brand new skirt,
Remember the tyrant, remember the fool,
Remember the victim of everything cruel,
Remember all those who have never been free,
And Jesus, remember me.

Remember the soldier in the chopper crash
Dying so far from home,
Remember the farmer digging in the field
Cultivating rich, dark loam,
Remember the banker, remember the thief,
Remember the mourner who is lost in her grief,
Remember all those who can never agree,
And Jesus, remember me.

Remember the patient in the ICU
Breathing by machine,
Remember the parent at the grocery store
Buying food when times are lean,
Remember the scoundrel, remember the queen,
Remember the vagrant who has never been seen,
Remember all those who from violence flee,
And Jesus, remember me.

Remember the foreman, remember the geek,
Remember the worker who makes pennies a week,
Remember all those who have their back to a wall,
And Jesus, remember all.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you are present wherever I go and in you is Paradise. Help me to see the glory all around me, even when times are dark. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, kneeling at the foot of the cross and feeling Christ’s arms of love reaching out to embrace the whole world.

The First Word: “Father, forgive them…” (March 29, 2012)

Published on by Adam Thomas1 Comment

…Opening To…

Sing, my tongue, the glorious battle; of the mighty conflict sing; tell the triumph of the victim, to his cross thy tribute bring. Jesus Christ the world’s Redeemer from that cross now reigns as King. (Venantius Honorius Fortunatus, from The Hymnal 1982)

…Listening In…

They also led two other criminals to be executed with Jesus. When they arrived at the place called The Skull, they crucified him, along with the criminals, one on his right and the other on his left. Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they’re doing.” They drew lots as a way of dividing up his clothing. (Luke 23:32-34; context)

…Filling Up…

For the last seven devos of Lent: today, tomorrow, and during Holy Week, we will be encountering Christ’s seven last words from the cross. These “words” are actually full sentences, and there are three in Luke, three in John, and Matthew and Mark share one, as well (though with a slight variation). For each of the words, I have written a song; now, the songs may or may not include the sayings themselves. Rather, think of them as my response to Jesus speaking out from the cross, a place of vulnerability, shame, and torment – that Jesus turned into a place of majesty, love, and salvation.

For each song, I gave myself no more than two hours to write it and one to record it. These are by no means polished songs; they are the responses of my heart to Christ crucified. I hope that they enrich you on your Holy Week journey as they have enriched me. What follows is “I am a Thread,” my response to Jesus’ first word from the cross.

(If you can’t see the music player, download the song here.)

I am a thread: see me shine in the sun.
You may never notice if I am the only one.
A thread is so thin, insubstantial, and frail,
And with a set distance from beginning to tail.

So please, God, weave me
In your tapestry.
Please, God, weave me.

We are all threads: see us shine in the sun.
But weave us together and together we are as one.
The fabric so thick, so substantial and strong;
There’s never a question of “do we belong?”

So please, God, weave me
In your tapestry.
Please, God, weave me.

Pull on a thread and you pull on each one;
So quick to unravel, so slow to weave again.
Father, forgive me: I don’t know what I do;
And grant me the eyes to see the fabric like you.

And please, God, weave me
In your tapestry.
Please, God, weave me.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you knit all of humanity together. Help me see how my actions and inactions threaten the thriving of my neighbors both here and far, that I may extract myself from the domination systems of the world, with your help. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, kneeling at the foot of the cross and feeling Christ’s arms of love reaching out to embrace the whole world

“Z” is for Zeal (March 28, 2012)

Published on by Adam ThomasLeave a comment

…Opening To…

There is a green hill far away, outside a city wall, where our dear Lord was crucified who died to save us all. O dearly, dearly has he loved! And we must love him too, and trust in his redeeming blood, and try his works to do. (Cecil Frances Alexander, from The Hymnal 1982)

…Listening In…

[Jesus] it is who gave himself for us that he might redeem us from all iniquity and purify for himself a people of his own who are zealous for good deeds. (Titus 2:14; context)

…Filling Up…

This Lent, we are exploring our faith by running through the alphabet. Today, “Z” is for zeal. Last year, I reached to Greek for “Z is for Zoe,” and I thought I was pretty clever until one of my youth pointed out that “zeal” is a perfectly good English word that I could have used instead. There’s always next year, I told her. And here we are.

The word “zeal,” I think, is used most often in our contemporary culture as part of the word “overzealous.” We hear of “overzealous police officers,” which is a euphemistic way of talking about cops that were too violent when they arrested someone. We hear that the estimates about how much money the new film would rake in during its first weekend were “a bit overzealous.” In each of these cases, the word “zeal” gets forced into service as a negative – too much zeal is a bad thing, these situations teach.

In the Christian context, the word is most often used to talk about “convert’s zeal”; that is, the extra exuberance shown for the faith by it’s newest members. Again, convert’s zeal is often seen as a negative – i.e. they’ll calm down when they’ve become a bit more seasoned.

But we can reclaim “zeal” from these negative connotations. At it’s truest and best, “zeal” describes the state when potential energy converts into kinetic energy. Put another way, zeal happens when talking about faith turns into living out faith. Zeal is not just a good feeling, but a state of being, closely related to bliss, but with an active component that I think bliss leaves out.

Zeal is the electricity of faith, the current that pulses through us when we are serving and loving as Jesus did. I’m not sure there’s a way to be “overzealous” if you think of zeal like this.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you plant in my heart the zeal for serving you. Help me to show others the joy I feel when I am serving so that they may know for whom I live my life. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, continuing my walk with you along this path through Lent and almost come to Jerusalem where I will wait and watch with the Lord.

“Y” is for Yeast (March 27, 2012)

Published on by Adam ThomasLeave a comment

…Opening To…

There is a green hill far away, outside a city wall, where our dear Lord was crucified who died to save us all. O dearly, dearly has he loved! And we must love him too, and trust in his redeeming blood, and try his works to do. (Cecil Frances Alexander, from The Hymnal 1982)

…Listening In…

He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast, which a woman took and hid in a bushel of wheat flour until the yeast had worked its way through all the dough.” (Matthew 13:33; context)

…Filling Up…

This Lent, we are exploring our faith by running through the alphabet. Today, “Y” is for yeast. Yes, the end of the alphabet is tough, but at least I didn’t have to resort to a gimmick like I did yesterday. While you might use the word “yeast” mostly in your baking, the word comes up a surprising number of times in the Bible.

First, yeast plays a part in the escape of the Israelites from Egypt in the book of Exodus. Or perhaps I should say, yeast is conspicuously absent from the account of the Israelites flight. To show the urgency of their departure, the writer of Exodus keys in on this small detail.  They didn’t have time to wait for the yeast to rise in their bread, so they resorted to unleavened bread for their journey. And to this day, unleavened bread is an important part of Jewish ritual.

Moving to the New Testament, Jesus speaks of yeast on at least two occasions. In possibly the greatest display of the disciples’ thickness, they don’t understand when Jesus says, “Watch out and be on your guard for the yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees.” The disciples don’t have any bread themselves, so they at first think that Jesus is telling them to go borrow some yeast from the Pharisees. I imagine Jesus took several calming breaths at this. “Don’t you know that I wasn’t talking about bread?” he says, no doubt exasperated. Then they realize he is using “yeast” to mean teaching – as in, something that helps you grow.

Finally, Jesus uses yeast in one of his parables about the kingdom of heaven, which you can read above. Here Jesus emphasizes the hidden aspect of the kingdom. It is there, inside each of us, working, reacting with the spiritual chemicals within us to turn us into agents of the kingdom. In the Bible, yeast is slow, it works in secret, but its affects are visible, and it helps us rise.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you help me rise by infusing my life with the leaven of your grace. Make me more and more aware of your kingdom growing within me so that I can be an agent of your reign in this world. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, continuing my walk with you along this path through Lent and almost come to Jerusalem where I will wait and watch with the Lord.