Think And Let Think

One of the most compelling and evergreen reasons to follow Jesus is that discipleship is playful. There’s a dance to the life of faith and it’s fun, or at least, its supposed to be. I know a pastor’s whose church’s motto is: We take Jesus seriously, but not ourselves. Even Karl Barth noted that one of the truest tests of faith isn’t whether or not we can laugh, but whether or not we can laugh at ourselves. I also love that. But faith is often seen as a very serious endeavor. And for good reason. We’re talking about salvation here. But, if the only thing we ever heart about, or think about, or talk about is the law, all the things we should and shouldn’t be doing, then we will always find ourselves sitting under the shadow of failure, judgement, and seriousness. And yet Luther, Paul, and Jesus remind us that God always speaks two words: Law and Gospel. Dave Zahl writes, “The law tells us what we ought to do; the Gospel tells us what God has done. The law shows us we need to be forgiven; the gospel announ

Dave Zahl writes, “The very notion of a weekly Sabbath breaks the twenty-four-seven cycle of more and reminds us that we are God’s treasured children, not slaves to the ever-mounting demands of the pharaohs in our lives.” To anyone who feels like they can’t keep up, slowing down is a relief. Notably, according to Genesis, to be made in God’s image is to be a person who needs rest. And, according to Exodus, lest we forget the gift that is rest, we’re literally commanded to do it. In fact, the command to sabbath receives more detail and explanation than any other commandment except for idolatry. Rest is all over the Old Testament from psalms that describe the comfort of laying down at night, to prophets who find relief under the shade of trees, to further commandments about letting the land rest. And then Jesus takes it to a whole new level because he talks the talk and walks the walk. Have you ever noticed how tired Jesus gets in the gospels? He rests at the well, he rests from casting out demons, he re

When Jesus commands the disciples to be like children, he’s telling us to recognize how much we’re like children no matter how old we actually are. Because the truth, the inconvenient truth, is that we don’t have it all together. Most of us are just barely scraping by and we need all the help we can get. If our standing in the world is based entirely on what we can do and achieve, then the status anxiety will always remain as an anxiety. But if our standing in the kingdom of God is based on what God can do, then we’ve been set free from the shackles that bind you and me...

We're all obsessed with control and we tend to mask it under the guise of efficiency. We adopt and adapt new behaviors and practices that promise order in a world out of control. But it is precisely from the burden of control that we need relief. We don’t need better ways to control because, as Dave Zahl notes, “the problem with control as the be-all and end-all of existence is that [all the things] we use to control our lives often end up controlling us.” And it is into the midst of all of this that Jesus embodies a life out of control. His time management is terrible, often letting interruptions interrupt the work of the kingdom. His evaluation of potential disciples is indefensible, calling fishermen and tax collectors to evangelism and community organization. If Jesus is trying to control people, he’s not doing a very good job. The movement he inaugurates dwindles the closer he get to Jerusalem, and by the end all the disciples abandon him. Jesus, to quote Zahl again, is clearly not a type-A personal

Salvation has personal, domestic, social, economic, and theological dimensions. Salvation, in the New Testament, is the same word for health and well-being. There’s more than just heaven at stake here. Or, perhaps better but, heaven is at stake here and now. Jesus says salvation has come to Zacchaeus’ house because he, himself, is salvation in the flesh. He is wholeness and saving and everything else. He has a resurrecting effect on the bodies of those who just happen to be near by. Jesus raises Zacchaeus up from his dead life into a completely new existence. He moves him from reject to elect. And, again, Jesus loves to hang out with the rejects. Jesus loves dead ends, dead beats, and people we wouldn’t be caught dead with because Jesus is the one who makes a way where there is no way. Which is why Jesus can be so irritating at times. Shouldn’t he know better than to hang out with a dirty rotten tax collector? Who’s next? Lawyers? Politicians? Preachers? The story of Jesus and Zacchaeus is a reminder tha

All of us have some moment we would redo if given the chance, some past decision or action or utterance that we would take back if we could. Our pasts exert pressure on us in the present. Sure, we can become very good at moving on or pretending we’ve moved on, but the truth of us, what we’ve done or left undone, never really leaves us. Regret is real. Which is why forgiveness is so important. Forgiveness is the only thing that frees us and relieves us from the burden of not just who were were, but also who we are.

The prodigal perfectly proclaims the paradox of the gospel: Jesus dies and is resurrected for us whether we deserve it or not. Like the younger brother, we don’t even have to apologize before our heavenly Father is tackling us in the streets of life with love. And like the older brother, we don’t have to do anything to earn an invitation to the party, save for leaving our judgments and self-righteousness behind. Contrary to how we might imagine it, or even experience it, the whole ministry of Jesus isn’t dependent on our deservings, or our abilities, or our morality, or our faithfulness. Instead, it’s all about the God of the good time who is just dying, literally, to share it with us.

Hosea’s life becomes the parable of his preaching. Gomer, Hosea’s wife, mother of his three oddly named children, whom he loves and cherishes, is not faithful to him. Her adultery is not something hidden away, it’s a known element among the whole community. And so Hosea does as the law commands, he sends her away. The prophet Hosea thus meditates on what it’s like to lose a partner, to have a promise broken. He begins to enter into God’s own pain and suffering and anguish. Hosea is what we call a minor prophet, but his book is major among the minors. Its the longest, the most detailed, and the most vivid. He speaks of bitterness, anguish, and even wrath. Not just God’s, but his own! But then, wonder of wonders, the humiliated husband, the pathetic prophet, goes out in search of the lost love of his life. And he goes not to bring retribution, but instead he brings redemption. He finds Gomer among the last, least, lost, little, and dead, he saves her from destitution, brings her back to his own home (i

It’s not too late to change your mind It’s not too late for the truth this time It’s not too late to fall on your knees It’s not to late for apologies It’s not too late to come clean To face all the fallout that there might be And it’s not too late to understand Grace is more than a concept to believe in It’s something more real than your beating heart And it runs to the depths of where you are It follows you there retracing your steps Whispering over and over again That it’s not too late, it’s not too late, it’s not too late. - Andy Gullahorn

When healing comes, its usually quiet and unexpected and surprising. Sometimes it requires a crack in the sidewalk before the root of healing can take hold. But when it does, it is the difference that makes all the difference in the world.

Elijah climbs the mountain on a hope and a prayer, looking for a theophany. He comes looking for fire, wind, smoke, and earthquake, a decisive declaration of the divine. But he discovers the truth is a cave. Elijah is met by God in the silence. Elijah delivers more fireworks than all of the other prophets put together, but maybe God speaks in silence to Elijah because Elijah needs to know, needs to learn, that God’s always speaking and always with him. Even when God seems silent. Perhaps that’s the reminder for us today as well...

One day, in the city of David, shadows darken as a cross is raised. Upon which is nailed the last king to come from the line of David. What does God do with us sinners gathering at the foot of the cross? What does God do with us Davids who take and break and sin and suffer? My sin, oh the bliss, of this glorious thought, my sin not in part but the whole, is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more; praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul! The cross is a sign of truth. It is a sign of our sin, our shortcomings, our situation. And the cross sets us free. But not before shaking us to the core, not before confronting us with the truth.

There’s only once church that matters, and it’s not a church that’s wealthy, or powerful, or prestigious, or bursting at the seems, or filled with acclaim. The only church that matters is a church that looks like Jesus. Jesus, the tiny vulnerable baby who is totally dependent on others. Jesus, the young child ready to challenge the status quo of those who have lingered too long in the temples of yesterday. Jesus, the faithful one who spurns the temptations of the devil in the desert days of life. Jesus, the story teller re-narrating the reality of existence. Jesus, the embracer of the last, least, lost, little, and dead. Jesus, the friend who stays with those who abandon him even to the very end. Jesus, the forgiver of those who do not know what they are doing. Jesus, the resurrected, who returns, reconciles, and receives everyone. The Spirit is poured out among us, working in and through us, giving us everything we need to look like Jesus.

Idolatry is real and it is more destructive than anything we can imagine. Idolatry is believing that social media is actually social when it fact is is constantly tearing us apart. Idolatry is believing the number at the bottom of our bank statements is indicative of our true worth and value in the world. Idolatry is believing that if our kids get on the right team, or the right score on a test, or into the right college everything will finally be forever perfect. Idolatry is believing that the names on our bumper stickers are more important and determinate than our relationship with people who happen to have a different name on their bumper sticker. Idolatry is believing we can know everything we ever need to know about another person by what type of music they listen to. And God says, “I am tearing down your idols, I’m busting them up into a million tiny little pieces. Nothing can ever get between us.” Faith in the Lord is a crazy thing. Keep at it long enough, keep singing these songs and praying t

Saint Augustine said, “You are the Body of Christ. In you and through you the work of incarnation must go forward. You are to be taken. You are to be blessed, broken, and distributed, that you may be the means of grace and vehicles of eternal love.” In other words, we come together to be blessed in order that we become blessings to others.

Hear the Good News: The mercy of God is going to catch you. It might happen in a backyard summer celebration. It could happen in church on a Sunday. Or it might happen when you spin a record with some friends. But the mercy of God is coming, and there’s nothing you can do about it...

The world rings with praise only because the whole of creation is in on it! Praise the Lord! The sun and moon, the sea, fire and snow, speckled frogs and spotted dogs, wrens and thrushes, old men with walkers and little babies who do little more than drool and sleep. The world joins up in the praise parade not with words, but with being. The snow whirls, the fires roar, the frogs croak, the cows moo, the birds sing, the old men sigh, and the little babies burp. In short, we learn to praise God not by paying compliments, but by paying attention. Have you ever watched a forest dance in the wind? Or listened to the symphony of a thunderstorm? Or sat in the silence and sound of a church service? Or experienced the fog lifting while you’re on the back of a motorcycle on your way to the zoo? We can praise when all is well and when all is hell because, as Frederick Buechner puts it, “What’s lost is nothing to what’s found, and all the death that ever was, set next to life, would scarcely fill a cup.”

God works in ways seen and unseen. The psalmist can only sing this song as one who has made it to the other side and is able to look back and see how God was in the business of deliverance. Maybe you’re able to look back and see the same. But if you’re in the pit right now, hear me when I say, it’s okay to not be okay, and this isn’t the end...

Good music, and I mean good in the true and beautiful sense, good music has a magic to it. It hits us, brings forth from us feelings we didn’t know we had. Music can travel us through time, backward and forward. Music moves. And its not always entirely clear how music does to us what it does. We can take a song that has shaped us, play it for someone else expecting similar magic, only to have them look back at us as if to say, “That’s it?” But that’s also the beauty behind the bands and artists that make the magic we call music. Even though the songs, melodies, and words stay the same, we all receive them differently. Just as music has a magic to it, so does scripture. It might not appear as such, hidden away under the dust covered Bibles of our sanctuary or living rooms. But, if you take out the Bible, and flip near the middle, it’s like finding an old mixed tape or CD. The psalter is a playlist of the prayers of God’s people.

Matthew tells of an angel who comes like lightning to roll back the stone. Mark recalls the women waking up early to go anoint Jesus’ body, John starts with Mary running back to tell the disciples about the empty tomb. But when Luke is finally ready to describe the power of Easter, he begins with the word “but.” The previous chapter ends with Joseph of Arimathea wrapping up Jesus dead and forsaken body and leaving it in a tomb. “But” Luke begins, “on the first day of the week, at dawn, the women came to the tomb and found it empty.” But, yet, however, nevertheless. These are the words that signal a sacred intrusion into reality. The gospel always turns on a great but...