A Matter of Naming (January 30, 2012)

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…Opening To…

The Bible is a harp with a thousand strings. Play on one to the exclusion of its relationship to the others, and you will develop discord. Play on all of them, keeping them in their places in the divine scale, and you will hear heavenly music all the time. (William P. White)

…Listening In…

I will open my mouth with a proverb. I’ll declare riddles from days long gone—ones that we’ve heard and learned about, ones that our ancestors told us. We won’t hide them from their descendants; we’ll tell the next generation all about the praise due the LORD and his strength—the wondrous works God has done.  (Psalm 78:2-4; context)

…Filling Up…

Last year at the end of January and beginning of February, devotiONEighty looked at certain topics having to do with the Bible – five things you shouldn’t do when you read it, five things you should do, and five words that often get misinterpreted. This year, we are going to have a few more weeks of Bible study on devotiONEighty, starting today with the beginning of “Five things about the Old Testament.” (You can probably guess what next week will be.)

Our first thing about the Old Testament is the fact that “Old Testament” is not really the best name we could be using for this set of books that makes up the majority of our Bibles. Saying “Old” puts it in direct comparison with the part of the Bible we call “New.” Now, of course, when we say “New,” most of us mean “more recent.” This is a fact. The books and letters that make up the “New Testament” were written more recently than those in the “Old Testament” that came before it. But when we say “Old” and “New,” what we hear (and what some folks think) is “Obsolete” and “Current.”

But the truth is, both the Old and New Testaments make up our Bibles. One is not better or more important than the other. Indeed, the “More Recent” Testament developed from and built on the “Less Recent Testament.” So, if you retain the phrase “Old Testament,” make sure the word “Old” doesn’t carry the baggage of obsolescence. I tend to use the name “Hebrew Scriptures” because it says what they are, but doesn’t set them up to lose to the New Testament.

Stayed tuned tomorrow when we delve into this, the bulk of our scriptures, on what I will henceforth call “Five things about the Hebrew Scriptures.”

…Praying For…

Dear God, you were a guiding presence for so many of my spiritual ancestors, who wrote about you in the Bible. Help me to see your presence as clearly as they did and to follow your Word with all my heart. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, grateful for your presence throughout time and space, as recorded in the Bible and lived in my life.

Be Silent, and Come out of Him

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 (Sermon for Sunday, January 29, 2012 || Epiphany 4B || Mark 1:21-28 )

I don’t know about you, but if I were the unclean spirit in today’s Gospel reading, I probably would have kept a lower profile. I would have lain low, kept my mouth shut, perhaps donned a pair of those Groucho Marx glasses with the big eyebrows and moustache. Then, after Jesus left the synagogue, I would have slunk home, incessantly cackling and cajoling, coercing and enticing, whispering, persuading, coaxing, craving, swaying, squeezing, luring. I would have slunk home, still embedded within my “patient,” as C.S. Lewis’s Screwtape calls you delicious people. I mean, us delicious people. I mean, us people.

*shakes head vigorously*

What I’m trying to say is this unclean spirit doesn’t seem to have much of a sense of self-preservation. If the unclean spirit knew that Jesus was “the Holy One of God,” and therefore had plenty of authority to command said spirit, then why did the spirit make a peep? And not just a peep, but a scene? And not just a scene, but a scene in the synagogue, which would be like the event taking place right now during this service. As I said before, I probably would have kept a lower profile.

However, maybe I’m not giving the unclean spirit enough credit for trying. Perhaps, this thing afflicting the guy in the synagogue did attempt to keep his lips zipped. Perhaps, the unclean spirit knew that Jesus would make the spirit’s existence rather uncomfortable if Jesus caught wind of the afflicting presence. And perhaps, the spirit just couldn’t help but cry out when Jesus was nearby.

The unclean spirit is caught in Jesus’ gravitational field. Like a satellite in a degraded orbit falling to earth, the spirit succumbs to Jesus’ gravity and reveals itself. The gravity – the authority – of Jesus’ presence compels the unclean spirit to cry out. And by this same authority, Jesus pulls the spirit from the man with the words: “Be silent, and come out of him!”

Now, I know that dismissing this kind of Biblical story is easy in our day and age. We look to psychology for a comfortable, modern lens with which to interpret unclean spirits. Demonic possession belongs to horror films and to currently popular fantasy worlds populated with vampires, zombies and werewolves. But for all the science and science fiction that we can use to explain away stories like today’s Gospel, the fact of the matter remains that Jesus took this man, who was afflicted by spiritual uncleanness, and made him well. The thought of unclean spirits may make you uncomfortable – sure makes me uncomfortable. But the reality of Jesus standing near and cleansing the filth within replaces my discomfort with wonder and awe and thanksgiving.

“Be silent, and come out of him!” says Jesus. He says this to the unclean spirit within the man at the synagogue, and he says this to the unclean spirits within us at St. Stephen’s church. Our afflictions may not look like the ones depicted in Renaissance frescos or horror film special effects, but that doesn’t make our unclean spirits any less real or damaging to our walks with God and one another. The question is: do we want to stand close enough to Jesus for his gravity to act on our uncleanness?

Whenever I ask myself this question, an overwhelming sense of lethargy strikes me out of nowhere. The status quo may not be perfect or even ideal, but I’ve gotten along well enough so far, I tell myself. May as well stay the course. “If it’s only somewhat broke, don’t fix it!” But honestly, this lethargy doesn’t strike out of nowhere. The lethargy comes from the unclean parts of me that want to be left well enough alone. I hear a voice within that sounds like mine, but I know deep down this voice is not the one I should listen to. The voice coaxes me back: back to bed, back to sleep, back away from the Holy One of God, whose gravity is always seeking to pull me to a closer orbit.

To this voice, Jesus says, “Be silent, and come out of him.” For me this voice belongs to pride and self-sufficiency and self-importance. Jesus calls the owner of this voice to leave me so that I can follow Jesus more closely. That’s mine. I wonder what your unclean voice is coaxing and coercing from you?

Perhaps, yours tells you that if you do just enough to get by, everything will work out. Your life might not be great, but your life will be easy, and that’s good, right? You don’t study for the test because you know you can scrape a C-minus, and that’s good enough. You don’t practice the piano piece because you can hit most of the notes most of the time, and that’s good enough. “Good enough, good enough” says the voice, which belongs to the indolent drifter within you, the slacker who’d rather just play video games all day. To this unclean spirit, Jesus says, “I never promised life would be easy, but I did promise life would be abundant, not just good enough. Be silent, and come out of him.”

Perhaps, your unclean voice tells you that working all those extra hours shows your dedication, and you never think to ask, “Dedication to what?” You stay late at the office most nights and the tonnage of missed dinners and little league games and ballet recitals piles up around you. You burned out a year ago, but you’re still plugging away because you’re no quitter. “You’re giving your family a better life, no matter if you’re not around,” says the voice, which belongs to the petrified consumer within you. To this unclean spirit, Jesus says, “Your relationships are more important than your money. Be silent, and come out of him.”

Perhaps, your unclean voice tells you that you are unattractive, unlovable, and doomed to a lonely existence; or that you should just shut yourself in your house so others won’t see that the years are taking their toll on your faculties; or that your challenges are too insignificant to ask others for help; or that others will laugh at whatever you say; or that whatever you do, nothing will be enough for God or anyone else to love you. To each and every one of these unclean spirits, Jesus says, “Be silent, and come out of him.”

These unclean spirits are familiar to us. They are comfortable, even though they demean and debase and shackle us. The overwhelming feeling of lethargy happens when they sense that we are moving nearer to Jesus Christ, when we are circling at a closer orbit. The unclean spirits feel the pull of his gravity, and they try to escape, to keep us for themselves. But they can never escape, because we were made not for them, but for God. And the Holy One of God has the authority, the mercy, and the grace to cleanse us.

When you give in to the unclean spirit within you, the enticing voice that speaks of lethargy or apathy or anger or fear, listen also for a second voice, the voice of Jesus Christ speaking from the depths of your soul. His is the voice of freedom from the filth that keeps us from living into the fullness that God desires for each of us. His is the voice filled with the gravity and authority of the Holy One of God. His is the voice that cries out: “Be silent, and come out of him.”

The Spectrum (January 27, 2012)

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…Opening To…

It is when we notice the dirt that God is most present in us: it is the very sign of His presence. (C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain)

…Listening In…

Jesus went down to Nazareth with them and was obedient to them. His mother cherished every word in her heart. Jesus matured in wisdom and years, and in favor with God and with people. (Luke 2:51-52; context)

…Filling Up…

In times of consolation, we notice God filling us to overflowing. We cannot possibly hold any more grace, so it spills from us, hopefully landing on those around us. Our joy prompts us to invite others to gather up their blessings and notice God’s presence in their lives. We form communities to share our joy, and these communities help sustain those who inevitably fall into periods of desolation.

You see, desolation and consolation are the extremes of life – the subsistence and the abundance. Most of the time, we exist somewhere along the spectrum between the two. Remember the story from Wednesday? At the end of it, Luke tells us that Mary cherished “all these things in her heart” – both the empty time of desolation when Jesus was lost and the joyful time of consolation when she found him again. Mary takes both categories into her heart and ponders them. Her life, like all our lives, brings together experiences both of desolation and consolation. As faithful people of God, we try with God’s help to lead lives that trend toward consolation on the spectrum.

Today, I invite you to take stock of where you fall on the spectrum between desolation and consolation. If your trajectory is moving toward consolation, rejoice, and continue to gather your small blessings and keep a weather eye out for God’s presence in your life. If your trajectory is moving toward desolation, I pray that God grants you the courage to turn around. You may still be stuck in the wasteland, but you will be facing the right direction – out of the desert and toward the garden.

Finally, may God grant you the grace to survive when you are desolate, to thrive when you are overflowing, and to treasure all these things in your hearts.

…Praying For…

Dear God, your presence abides in every decision and indecision I make, every cause and effect, every question and answer. Help me to recognize and live my life in the light of that presence. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, and wherever I am – whether in the garden or the wasteland – I pray that you help me see your presence in my life.

Consolation (January 26, 2012)

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…Opening To…

It is when we notice the dirt that God is most present in us: it is the very sign of His presence. (C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain)

…Listening In…

You changed my mourning into dancing. You took off my funeral clothes and dressed me up in joy so that my whole being might sing praises to you and never stop. LORD, my God, I will give thanks to you forever. (Psalm 30:11-12; context)

…Filling Up…

Whereas desolation makes the soul a wasteland, consolation makes the soul a garden in full bloom. In consolation, the roots of our souls grow deep in the rich soil of God’s presence. We are aware of the persistent activity of creation, and we revel in the joys that life has to offer.

Sometimes, our determination brings consolation to us: a young girl is told she’ll never become a concert pianist. Her hands are too small, her technique mediocre, pedestrian. But she practices and practices and practices. Her joy is in the vibration of hammer on string buzzing up through her fingertips, in the notes transferred from black dots and squiggles to tones of weight and beauty. She may never play at Carnegie Hall, but the music is inside her soul.

Sometimes, as with desolation, external events bring consolation to us: the city-dweller finds himself in rural woodland at night. The sky is clear, the moon a sliver. He lies on his back and gazes up at the stars. He didn’t know there were so many. The subtle band of the Milky Way brings shape to the clutter. The innumerable points of light in the darkness bring light to his soul.

More often than not, consolation happens when we gather together all of the small blessings in our lives. A good night’s sleep leads to energy and cheerfulness. An unexpected phone call comes from an old friend. The house is warm. Chicken for dinner again! Each blessing enriches the soil, in which our souls thrive, and our gardens bloom with unrestrained life.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you have given me a heart that beats in time with the rhythm of your grace. Help me to live everyday feeling the joy that rhythm. In Jesus Christ’s name Pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, and wherever I am – whether in the garden or the wasteland – I pray that you help me see your presence in my life.

Losing Jesus (January 25, 2012)

Published on by Adam Thomas1 Comment

…Opening To…

It is when we notice the dirt that God is most present in us: it is the very sign of His presence. (C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain)

…Listening In…

When they didn’t find Jesus, they returned to Jerusalem to look for him. After three days they found him in the temple. He was sitting among the teachers, listening to them and putting questions to them. Everyone who heard him was amazed by his understanding and his answers. When his parents saw him, they were shocked. His mother said, “Child, why have you treated us like this? Listen! Your father and I have been worried. We’ve been looking for you!” Jesus replied, “Why were you looking for me? Didn’t you know that it was necessary for me to be in my Father’s house?” But they didn’t understand what he said to them. (Luke 2:45-50; context)

…Filling Up…

Before we transition to the good news, let’s pause for a day and check out a story from the Gospel that moves from desolation to consolation.

While our desolation may happen when we think God is gone, Mary’s desolate moment happens when she literally loses Jesus. The family has been attending the festival of the Passover in Jerusalem. They start their journey back to Nazareth, and Jesus is not with them. But they’re not worried because the caravan is peopled with family and friends; surely, he’s wandered off to chat with some favorite uncle. A day out, Mary and Joseph realize Jesus is missing. They rush back to Jerusalem, frightened, anxious. They search for three frantic days. As someone who has only experienced the combination of harsh words and fervent embraces that accompany a parent finding a lost child, I can only imagine the desolation that those three days brought to Mary’s soul.

On the third day, Mary’s search brings her to the temple. And there she finds Jesus, safe and sound and unaware of the years his absence has shaved off his mother’s life. What was lost, Mary now has found. The nightmare scenarios she has been imagining have not come to pass, but her heart continues to pound anyway – it pounds out of love and relief and jubilation. Desolation gives way to the warmth, the electricity of consolation, which we will talk about tomorrow. For now, put yourself in Mary’s shoes. What would it be like for us to find Jesus?

…Praying For…

Dear God, whenever I am lost, you seek me out, find me, and bring me home to you. Help me to search for you with the same diligence and welcome you with open arms. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, and wherever I am – whether in the garden or the wasteland – I pray that you help me see your presence in my life.

Desolation (January 24, 2012)

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…Opening To…

It is when we notice the dirt that God is most present in us: it is the very sign of His presence. (C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain)

…Listening In…

I have sunk into deep mud. My feet can’t touch the bottom! I have entered deep water; the flood has swept me up. I am tired of crying. My throat is hoarse. My eyes are exhausted with waiting for my God. (Psalm 69:2-3; context)

…Filling Up…

Usually, people want the bad news first, so we’ll begin with the emptiness of desolation. Desolation is the nuclear winter of the soul. Desolation makes the soul a wasteland – arid, parched, rendered uninhabitable by events in the life of the very person who must inhabit the internal desert.

Sometimes, we bring desolation on ourselves: a man cheats on his wife, and she doesn’t even catch him. He expects to feel the thrill of adventure, of subterfuge. Instead, he feels the pain of a broken promise. He doesn’t realize he is a moral person until he fails to live up to his own unexamined values. And his failure eats away at his soul.

Sometimes, external events bring desolation upon us: the pregnancy has been difficult, but the doctors have managed to stay positive. If she can hold on just a few more weeks…but the contractions start, and she delivers a tiny life. The infant’s underdeveloped lungs struggle for breath. He lives for four days, and her soul dies with him.

Sometimes, desolation happens not in these large events but in the accumulation of small frustrations and disappointments. They hired the other guy. The repair cost more than the estimate. Another D-minus. Chicken for dinner – again. Each frustration erodes the soil of the soul, nutrients leach out, and eventually only the wasteland remains.

In these times of desolation, we do not look for the presence of God because we think God can’t possibly be there. We abandon ourselves to despair, so we expect that God has abandoned us too. We may even stop believing in God, while paradoxically blaming God for our situations. When we are desolate, we don’t live: we merely subsist. And we fail to realize that our very ability to survive through the torment of despair is a manifestation of God’s awesome power and love.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you are near me even when I am far from you. Help me never to forget that, even when I can no longer see your presence. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, and wherever I am – whether in the garden or the wasteland – I pray that you help me see your presence in my life.

Two Categories (January 23, 2012)

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…Opening To…

It is when we notice the dirt that God is most present in us: it is the very sign of His presence. (C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain)

…Listening In…

Look at me! Answer me, LORD my God! Restore sight to my eyes! Otherwise, I’ll sleep the sleep of death, and my enemy will say, “I won!” My foes will rejoice over my downfall. But I have trusted in your faithful love. My heart will rejoice in your salvation. (Psalm 13:3-5; context)

…Filling Up…

They say that every therapist should be in therapy. Likewise, every priest should participate in spiritual direction. Without trained professionals helping us priests notice God’s movement in our lives, one of two things happens. We either forget to rely on God, thus emptying ourselves of all nourishment even though a feast is perpetually spread before us. Or we decide we don’t need to rely on God, because we are doing just fine on our own (thank you very much!) and the same starvation results. We priests are a rather thick bunch, usually quite stubborn when faced with the Almighty, because the Creator-of-All-That-Is rarely seems to fit the predictions of our seminary studies.

When I was in seminary, my spiritual director, who is now my boss (funny how life works out sometimes!), diagnosed my particular case as a combination of failing to notice God’s presence and deciding I didn’t need God anyway. I’m glad I could offer her such a potent mixture of blindness and stupidity. Needless to say, our sessions were never boring. Over our two years together, she taught me many things, but one stands above the rest. You can basically separate the events of your life into two categories, she said. There are moments of consolation, and there are moments of desolation. Both will happen and ignoring one will make the other that much harder to define. This week, we are going to look at these two categories and see how we can follow Christ more closely if we keep stock of where we are on this spectrum.

There’s the good news of consolation and the bad news of desolation. We’ll start with the bad news first. But that will be tomorrow.

…Praying For…

Dear God, my life is a canvas upon which you are painting. Help me to live out every line, every shade, that I may live to the fullest the life you would have me live. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, and wherever I am – whether in the garden or the wasteland – I pray that you help me see your presence in my life.

The Sense of Touch (January 20, 2012)

Published on by Adam Thomas1 Comment

…Opening To…

“A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)

…Listening In…

A woman was there who had been bleeding for twelve years. She had spent her entire livelihood on doctors, but no one could heal her. She came up behind him and touched the hem of his clothes, and at once her bleeding stopped.  “Who touched me?” Jesus asked. When everyone denied it, Peter said, “Master, the crowds are surrounding you and pressing in on you!” But Jesus said, “Someone touched me. I know that power has gone out from me.” When the woman saw that she couldn’t escape notice, she came trembling and fell before Jesus. In front of everyone, she explained why she had touched him and how she had been immediately healed. “Daughter, your faith has healed you,” Jesus said. “Go in peace.” (Luke 8:43-48; context)

…Filling Up…

We have reached the last of our five senses, and it’s Friday, so that worked out well! I don’t know about you but the sense of touch is by far the most important sense for the human experience. Think about an infant bonding with a mother in the hours after delivery or a couple slow dancing or friends high-fiving at a football game. God has built into our DNA the need to touch and be touched.

I remember in college when I sensed that I just wasn’t getting enough hugs. They say you need X number of hugs a day for emotional sanity (the number varies – I’d say between five and eight), and I was getting a grand total of zero. I remember mentioning this to a couple of friends, who had the same experience. So we made a point to hug each other whenever we saw one another. You can be surrounded by people all day, but if there is no physical contact, then loneliness can creep in.

So what’s so important about this sense of touch, especially considering our God is not someone we have ever had any tactile experience with? Touch, more than any other sense, helps us feel connected. Oftentimes, you can communicate more with a squeeze of a hand or a pat on the shoulder or a firm embrace than you can in words. Just think about the first time you attempted to hold your date’s hand or kiss your date good night. I bet your heart pounded. You could feel the impending connection, and it made you a little dizzy.

God may not touch us physically in this way, but just think about the expression: “That was so touching.” When we use this expression, we are never actually talking about physical contact. But the act of reaching out and touching someone is so powerful that we have transferred the emotional connotation of the touch into other realms of our experience. God does touch us; maybe not physically, as Jesus once did, but God touches every corner of our spirit and sets us on fire.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you have given me the sense of touch to experience more fully the connecting joy you have built into creation. Help me to reach out my hands in service, and make them to be your hands reaching out to this world that is in dire need of your embrace. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, ready to see, hear, taste, touch, and smell your presence, that I may be more aware of your movement in my life.

The Sense of Hearing (January 19, 2012)

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…Opening To…

“A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)

…Listening In…

Let me hear what the LORD God says, because he speaks peace to his people and to his faithful ones. Don’t let them return to foolish ways. (Psalm 85:8; context)

…Filling Up…

Like the sense of sight, hearing can be tricky. As a sense, hearing consists of vibrations hitting special parts of our ears and then our brains organizing those vibrations into intelligible sounds. Now, I suppose I could have started each day this week with a scientific explanation of the sense, but since I’m neither a scientist nor a Time Lord (Doctor Who reference – check it out, seriously), we’ll just have to make do. Anyway, the sense of hearing is all about making intelligent guesses about the vibrations bombarding us. How does this jive with our exploration of God’s presence? I’m glad you asked.

“No one has ever seen God,” claims the prologue to the Gospel according to John. But throughout the Bible, people certainly hear God. There are three kinds of people who hear God. First, there are the prophet-type people who are so in tune with God that they know God’s words as their own, like Isaiah or Amos. Second, there are the people who would never have expected to hear God because of some perceived impediment, like Moses or Jeremiah. Third, there are the people who are going against God and need a shout (such as the kind your dad gave when you wandered into the street), like Saul who becomes Paul.

In each case, these folks’ hearing of God’s message goes much beyond mere receiving of the verbal stimuli. The sense of hearing translates into the act of listening, which is another way of saying they obeyed. You’ll notice if you look in a mirror that God designed us humans a certain way where hearing is involved. It’s easy to close our eyes, but difficult to close our ears. We have to ram our hands over our ears and press as hard as we can to stop the sound from coming in. Notice also that if you turn around so your eyes are looking the other way, your ears haven’t changed place. God designed us this way on purpose, I think. God is still continuing to speak creation into being, and God has given us the biological reminder that we can always remain open to hearing and then listening to God’s voice.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you have given me the sense of hearing to experience more fully the ways you communicate your creation into being. Help me to listen and obey you when I hear your voice guiding my life. In Jesus Christ’s name pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, ready to see, hear, taste, touch, and smell your presence, that I may be more aware of your movement in my life.

The Sense of Taste (January 18, 2012)

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…Opening To…

“A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)

…Listening In…

Your word is so pleasing to my taste buds—it’s sweeter than honey in my mouth! (Psalm 119:103; context)

…Filling Up…

Scripture is filled with images of tasting, which is our third of the five senses for this week of devotions. Both Ezekiel and John of Patmos eat scrolls with words from God written on them. They taste like honey. Actually, tasting like honey is a big deal in the Bible. In Psalm 19, the Lord’s judgments taste like honey, as does the Lord’s word in Psalm 119. In Exodus, the manna that the Israelites eat in the wilderness tastes like honey as well.

Pair these descriptions with the notion of tasting of God. Psalm 34 invites us to “taste and see that the Lord is good.” 1 Peter assumes we have already done so and reached the same conclusion about God’s savory quality. Honey does, indeed, taste good. I put it in tea to sweeten up the Earl Grey.

But think about the claim we are making whenever we reference these pieces of the Bible. We say that tasting the Lord is good. Therefore, the claim we make is that the Lord is like food, and not just any food, but food that tastes as good as honey. We really should eat food every day to stay healthy; sadly, not everyone in the world has that opportunity. When we don’t eat, we become malnourished. The same is true when we fail to taste of God. We become malnourished spiritually and forget what it is like to be full of the Lord, to have the honey of God’s word dripping from our lips.

But remember that God tastes good. God makes it desirable for us to come to the table for our meal. There’s no wonder that Holy Communion is a feast that we do often – we physically taste of the bread and spiritually taste of the binding and weaving movement of God. (Now I know many of us use the thin, disc-like wafers that don’t taste like much of anything at all, but just go with me here.) So taste and see that the Lord is good. Fill your belly with the word of God that tastes sweeter than honey dripping from the comb.

You may develop a sweet tooth, but it’s a sweet tooth for God, so your dentist won’t complain.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you have given me a sense of taste to experience more fully those good things that nourish my body. Help me to savor your word as I would savor my favorite food. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, ready to see, hear, taste, touch, and smell your presence, that I may be more aware of your movement in my life.