The Word Is Very Near You

We like stories where the mighty hero vanquishes the enemy through force and strength of arms. Evil is defeated as he flexes his muscles, fires his weapon, and saves the day. Something inside us loves the idea of a rescuer, a deliverer, coming to set everything right. Many of the prophecies surrounding the Jewish deliverer, or Messiah, referred to him as "the son of David." This stirred national hopes of a king like David, a military leader who would make Israel great again by winning battles and restoring her tarnished glory. However, when the Messiah did come, he couldn't have been more different. Born in a barn to a peasant family in a tiny village, he spent most of his life in obscurity. And in the three years he lived in the public eye, he didn't follow the script of cultivating friendships with the rich and powerful and politically connected, but rather wandered the countryside with the riff-raff, telling strange stories and healing the sick. Rather than occupying an opulent palace and commanding a powerful army, he was poor and homeless. By society's standards, he was a loser. Yet there was one prophecy that saw all of this coming. Isaiah 52:13 - 53:12 describes a mysterious figure, a suffering servant who would vicariously die for the sins of his people. Isaiah writes, "He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by others, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain." (53:2-3) Even though Jesus didn't fit his people's understanding of what Messiah should be, Isaiah is clear that he came for them nonetheless. And that through his suffering and apparent defeat, he would bear their sin, carry it away, if you will: "But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed." (53:5) So maybe rescue doesn't always look like we think it will or want it to. Even today, Jesus doesn't come into our lives and make all of our problems magically go away. Rather, he comes to be with us in those struggles, offering to take those sins on himself, offering us healing. Happy Easter!

When someone is about to leave us -- whether they're going on a long trip or whether they're about to die -- the last things they say and do carry special meaning. They are fraught with significance, given the possibility that we may never see them again. This was certainly the case on Jesus's last night on earth. At the meal we now refer to as the Last Supper, Jesus reinterpreted a feast that was central to Israel's identity and salvation history -- the Passover meal. The Passover was their last supper -- the last one they would eat in Egypt before God released them from years of slavery and oppression. The centerpiece of the meal was the sacrifice of a pure, innocent lamb, a symbol of God's rescue and deliverance. It's no coincidence that Jesus's own suffering and death coincided with the timing of Passover. During this last meal with his friends, Jesus tells them how his body is about to broken and his blood is about to be spilled -- just like the Passover lamb -- as a sacrifice for them. In this new telling of the Passover story, Jesus himself IS the lamb. And the new covenant he initiates inaugurates a new Passover story, the story of God rescuing his people -- and ALL peoples -- from the power of sin and death through the blood of the Lamb. In this new arrangement, God rescues people not because of their own goodness, but because of his. With John the Baptist we say, "Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!" (John 1:29)

"No regrets!" is a common refrain in high-school graduation speeches and wedding toasts. While it's a nice thought, if we're honest we know that to live very long or deeply in this world is to experience regret, the painful feeling of having to live with a mistake that cannot be fixed. Some actions, once done, cannot be undone. Some words, once spoken, are irrevocable. I can only imagine the tremendous regret Adam and Eve experienced after making their fateful choice to eat the forbidden fruit. Little did they realize the cosmic, far-reaching consequences of their choice. Yet what they immediately experienced was painful enough -- guilt, shame, hiding, blaming each other, and expulsion from Eden. The question God asks Eve, "What is this you have done?," is one that asks her to speak the truth and accept responsibility for her actions. But instead, she chooses to follow Adam's example of shifting the blame. In the curses that follow, we see the cosmic, trickle-down effect of our first parents' sin: a never-ending struggle between good and evil, pain in childbearing, strained relationships, work that is frustrating and backbreaking. And yet even in the curse, there is mercy. God clothes Adam and Eve with animal skins to replace their sorry fig leaves. It seems some innocent animal had to die as a result of their sin. Surely this points to the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world. In Romans 5:19 Paul writes, "For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the one man the many will be made righteous." Through the first Adam, sin and death spread to all people, but through the last Adam, Jesus, the effects of the curse are reversed as we experience his forgiveness and new life. He is the seed of the woman who will finally crush the serpent's head. (Genesis 3:15) Although I would love to live a life with no regrets, I have come to see that this is rather impossible this side of heaven. I have rather come to embrace Thoreau's maxim that "to regret deeply is to live afresh." May we experience renewal and fresh strength this week as honestly face the pain of our past mistakes and embrace the forgiveness and healing of the Cross.

More often than not, we don't particularly like the idea of someone telling us what to do, of there being limits or boundaries to our lives. And yet, this is the very nature of our entire existence. From the moment we're born, we are under the supervision and direction of our parents. As we grow older, teachers and coaches set parameters for us. Later on, employers and spouses have a thing or two to say about what we can and cannot do. Yet something in us chafes at the idea of being told what to do, and especially, being told what NOT to do. We certainly see this in the Bible's opening chapters, where Adam and Eve are presented with incredible freedom and an array of amazing choices. They are free to enjoy and work in a beautiful garden God has planted. They can eat from any tree in it...except one. Because we know how the story ends, this almost feels like a set up. Why would God say something like this and seemingly set them up to fail? It seems that God is saying something here about the moral universe he has created, that to be a creature entails having some limits, boundaries, that our growth involves developing moral discernment so we can learn to make good choices. We all know that Adam and Eve disobeyed God's command and chose to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. We live with the results of their fateful choice every single day. And we also often re-enact that choice, don't we? We extend our hand for the forbidden fruit, trying to seize a measure of happiness or fulfillment NOW. So what are we to do? How do we go on in this fallen, broken world, especially with our tendency to sometimes do the very thing that God has told us NOT to do? Our human failure points us to the need for something or Someone outside of ourselves to help us, Someone who can give us life, Someone who IS life. In Revelation 22, we see this Someone's new creation, his new Eden, where the tree of life reappears to bring "healing to the nations" (Revelation 22:2). As we consider the many ways we reach for the forbidden fruit, may we turn to the One who offers us life to find healing.

There is a simple, innocent freedom about being naked in an appropriate setting, whether it's showering, sleeping, or enjoying quality time with your spouse. However, in other settings, to be naked is to be humiliated, embarrassed, or ashamed. I still have that recurring dream about showing up for some final exam completely naked. What is THAT about? Before they sinned, Adam and Eve "were both naked, and they felt no shame." (Genesis 2:25). However, after they made the catastrophic choice to eat from the tree God had commanded them not to eat from, they are now hiding behind trees, afraid and ashamed. As God comes looking for them in this tragic game of hide-and-seek, he asks them a haunting question: "Who told you that you were naked?" (3:11) It's a piercing question that bespeaks the loss of innocence, the doing of something that cannot be undone. It's a quasi-rhetorical question, because the answer of course, is "No one." No one had to tell Adam that he was naked, it was the consequence of eating the forbidden fruit. Contrary to the serpent's promise of it offering life, power, and freedom to them, it only brought guilt, shame, and alienation. Adam and Eve's solution to their nakedness is sewing together fig leaves to cover their private parts. In much the same way, we futilely attempt to cover ourselves through our human striving -- through our accomplishments, possessions, appearance, and status. Yet God offers them (and us!) a better way. The most moving part of this story is at the end, when God clothes them in "garments of skin" (3:21) and sends them on their way out of the garden. Presumably, some innocent animal had to die as a consequence for their sin. Yet this tragic ending points to God's future, hopeful provision for his people through the substitutionary atonement of the sacrificial system (I sin and a lamb dies in my place), which would eventually find its ultimate fulfillment in the coming of the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, the One who was crucified naked that we might be clothed in the garments of salvation.

Although many have relegated the story of Adam and Eve eating the forbidden fruit to the level of a fairy tale on the order of Hansel and Gretel, there are profound truths here about both human nature and God's. A significant feature of this story is God seeking out Adam and Eve after they have sinned and asking them a series of questions. Rather than blasting them with his anger and disappointment, God invites them to confess, to take responsibility, to come clean about their actions. To be sure, there are harsh consequences for them, but the first step is for them to face reality. Like a loving parent who already knows what their child has done wrong, he knows it's important that they say it out loud and take ownership. Perhaps the most haunting question God asks Adam is "Where are you?". It's not as if he didn't know where Adam was, or that they were playing a game of hide-and-seek. Rather, the question is designed to get Adam to own up to his fateful choice. His response is telling, "...I was afraid because I was naked, so I hid." (Genesis 3:10) And ever since then, we humans have been hiding from God and one another, carefully arranging and rearranging our carefully sewn fig leaves to cover our nakedness. We suspect that if others saw the real us, they would not like what they see. And like our first parents, we attempt to hide from God due to our guilt and shame over breaking his commandments. Yet God doesn't leave them alone to wallow in their guilt and shame. Not only does he seek them out, but he provides "garments of skin" -- presumably an innocent animal was sacrificed -- to cover their nakedness. In spite of what Adam and Eve have done, their sin doesn't get the last word in this story, God's mercy does. I'm thankful we have a God who seeks us out, who comes looking for us no matter what we've done, and who provides to cover our nakedness.

Sometimes we feel as though we live in the shadowlands, a place that C.S. Lewis described as being forever in shadow: "The sun shone somewhere else, but not here." The last year has certainly felt like the shadowlands for many of us, hasn't it? As difficult as the last year has been, perhaps it has awakened in us a desire for something better. Because the subtle pull of comfortable, middle-class life is to lull us into thinking that this life is all there is, and that therefore, we must do whatever it takes to be happy NOW. God's people also knew a thing or two about difficult circumstances. Imagine most of our population being carted off to a foreign country by a conquering army and not permitted to return. Imagine other people living in our houses and using our stuff and enjoying all the benefits of our hard work. Certainly their ears must have perked up a bit when Isaiah spoke of a vision of "new heavens and a new earth," (Isaiah 65:17) a place where "the sound of weeping and of crying will be heard no more." (65:19) In spite of the Israelites' complete rebellion against God, in his mercy God promises a new beginning for those willing to change their ways. It's good news for us also as we journey through the shadowlands towards New Jerusalem, the place that God is creating "to be a delight and a joy." (65:18)

Sometimes we get stuck in ways of living that are destructive to ourselves and others. Sin has a stickiness to it that can make it difficult to extricate ourselves from a bad habit that we've started. Over time, our conscience can become so dulled that we're no longer sure that we're doing is even wrong, so we no longer see the need to be rescued. The only hope of deliverance from such a situation is the presence of God himself. Isaiah prays for just this in 64:1, "Oh that you would rend the heavens and come down!" Drawing hope from examples of how God has rescued his people in the past, he asks for deliverance once again, even though he acknowledges they surely deserve judgment. Because his people have wandered so far from God's ways that they are no longer capable of turning to him on their own, his merciful intervention is needed. His presence is needed. And God did finally come to rescue his people from exile in Babylon and bring them home. And God did crack the sky and come to earth in Jesus to lovingly and finally deal with the sin in our lives and offer us a way home. This is the hope we celebrate at Easter.

It seems incredible that a year has passed now since the pandemic began in earnest. I vividly remember this time last year when basketball tournaments began getting canceled, schools began indefinitely extending their spring breaks, and no toilet paper was anywhere to be found! What a difference a year makes! Now we see case numbers finally beginning to fall, vaccines being successfully rolled out, and schools and businesses beginning to reopen. It's almost like a switch has been flipped and a new day has begun. In the spiritual life also, we see these kinds of pivots where God begins a new thing. After a long, dark period of exile, the Servant of the Lord arrives on the scene "to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor" to God's people. (Isaiah 61:2). God proclaims that Israel's time of judgment is now over and that he is going to bring them back home to rebuild their ruined cities. It's significant that Jesus quotes this same words to inaugurate his ministry, to proclaim the dawning of a new kingdom. In Luke 4:14-30, Jesus returns to his hometown of Nazareth to deliver his first public sermon. What begins as a hopeful proclamation of good news, however, suddenly takes a surprising, violent turn when Jesus' hearers completely fail to understand him and his mission. He has come, you see, not just to bless them and make their lives great again, but for everyone, including those traditionally considered to be outside the club of "God's chosen people" -- foreigners, the sick, the poor, widows, tax collectors. We see this theme repeated throughout Luke's gospel, that God came not only for the Israelites, but for all peoples. This was the plan all along. God told Abraham in Genesis that he would make him the father of many nations, that all peoples on earth would be blessed through him. Yet so often God's people (including us!) tried to hoard God's blessings for themselves and not share them with the rest of the world. May we begin this "new year" with the reminder that we are blessed to be a blessing, that God restores and redeems us that we might share those benefits with others.

Human beings are innately religious by nature. For our entire existence, it seems we have been hard-wired to worship something or someone. Much of our religion has a nakedly transactional quality to it -- we perform certain rituals or activities to appease the Deity (or deities), and in return, we are blessed with abundant rainfall, plenteous crops, and a brood of healthy children. It's not surprising that God's people fell victim (and still do!) to this quid pro quo view of spirituality, to the illusion that they could somehow manipulate the Creator of the universe into granting their requests if they just checked the right boxes in their worship. Yet the prophets consistently railed against this hollow, self-serving kind of religion. Isaiah 58 focuses on the Israelites' emphasis on the ritual of fasting, which brings forth an ironic, if not biting response from God about what constitutes true fasting -- caring for the poor, sharing their resources, and fighting against injustice. It is this kind of heart-religion -- a religion characterized by living out God's own values and priorities in the world -- that will result in the kinds of blessings they seek. And the ultimate blessing will be his very presence: "Then you will call, and the Lord will answer; you will cry for help, and he will say: 'Here am I.'" (Isaiah 58:9)

We're rightly skeptical today whenever someone tells us that something is free. We're sure there are conditions, that strings must be attached. We brace ourselves for an endless, exhausting sales pitch. This suspicion may explain some of our innate resistance to the claims of the Gospel -- that God offers not only to freely pardon and forgive us, but to grace us with the lavish gift of new life in Christ. We see a memorable image of this offer in Isaiah 55 -- God invites his people to a sumptuous banquet at his table, cajoling them to quit snacking on spiritual junk food. He is about to do a new thing among them -- to bring them home from their exile in Babylon. Not because of their own goodness or moral striving, but as a free gift from his good heart. Like the Israelites, God offers to bring us home from our self-imposed spiritual exile of sin and displacement from him. Not because we are trying to be really good, but because he is really good. And though the offer truly is free -- for us, at least -- it wasn't free for the Suffering Servant that Isaiah described in brutal detail just two chapters earlier, the One who "was pierced for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities." (Isaiah 53:5) May we receive God's free offer of pardon today and "seek him while he may be found." (Isaiah 55:6)

It's common today to blame society's problems on "those people out there" -- those people in DC or New York or Hollywood, the members of that political party, or the groups who believe "those things." "If only those people would change," we think, "then our community and our country would be so much better." But the Gospel repeatedly challenges us to confront the reflection in the mirror we see staring back at us each morning. While it would be so much more convenient to blame others for society's many problems, the hard truth is that I am a part of the problem. The great Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy said, "Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself." The prophets consistently proclaim to us this difficult message of repentance. John the Baptist urged his hearers to change their ways, because doing so would somehow prepare the way for them to recognize the Messiah's imminent coming. Lent is an opportune time for us to do the same, to let go of our pride and all of our vain efforts to rescue ourselves by our own moralistic self-striving, to recognize our need for a Savior.

The dark and cold of winter -- especially a pandemic winter -- have a way of stretching on that makes it seem as if Spring is never going to arrive. At times we feel that we're trapped in Narnia under the reign of the White Witch where it's "always winter and never Christmas." Yet Spring does come -- slowly, almost imperceptibly at first. We notice the air doesn't seem quite so chilly, or we see the first green heads of daffodils poking out through the cold ground. Sometimes in the spiritual life we get stuck in a winter of the soul where it seems we are mired in the morass of our mistakes, like we can't get out of our own way. We need help. We need the Spring of warmth and sunshine to thaw out our frozen hearts and cold attitudes. In the Bible, hope always gets the last word. Restoration triumphs over judgment. Forgiveness defeats bitterness. God's grace is greater than our sin. Isaiah 40 is poignant picture of the tender comfort God offers after a long, cold season of his people's rejection of him. And it is comfort that is completely unmerited and undeserved. God does not restore them because they are good, but because he is good. As we trudge through the winter of Lent, it is helpful to remember that Spring is just around the corner, and that our job is to "prepare the way for the Lord" (Isaiah 40:3) by turning from our cold, dark ways and embracing God's light and warmth.

Some experiences affect us so powerfully that we never forget them. The awe, terror, and even beauty of those moments stay with us the rest of our lives. Negatively, I think of 9/11 and the recent Capitol riot. Positively, I think of my wedding day and the birth of my first child. The prophet Isaiah had an experience that trumps all of those -- a vision of the holy and transcendent God, the King of the universe. It shook him to his core, but also propelled his call to ministry. He tries to describe the indescribable, a vision of the Holy One that changed him forever. He volunteers for God's service, but things don't go as planned. Rather than his words causing people to repent and turn from their evil ways, they seemed to have the opposite effect -- people became even more entrenched in their sin and stubbornness. Even Jesus and Paul experienced this heartbreaking, haunting irony in their ministries, their very words seeming to "make the heart of this people calloused; make their ears dull and close their eyes." (Isaiah 6:10) We would do well here to consider the stern warning about the subtle, hardening effect of sin in our lives, the power it wields to exert a kind of spiritual momentum over us to increasingly close us off to God's love and truth.

The prophets' words have a way of unsettling us, of giving us a holy dissatisfaction with the way things are. It's not surprising then, that we often avoid reading their uncomfortable words. They just hit too close to home sometimes. We prefer to read the more sunny, optimistic parts of the Bible. Lent is the perfect time to linger in the words of the prophets. Historically, this penitential season is an opportunity to look both inside ourselves and at the outside world and consider "the tragic gap" -- the gap between the way the world is and the way it should be. Isaiah called out his people for failing to live up to the ethical requirements of their relationship with a holy God. Specifically, they have failed to exercise justice in their treatment of the marginalized and oppressed. Therefore, they have resorted to "playing religion," giving lip service to God in their worship services but still choosing to live however they please. Their insistence on having an open relationship with God -- worshiping him but demanding the freedom to worship their idols also -- has confused their hearts and perverted their sense of right and wrong. In spite of their many sins, God reassures them that it's not too late: "Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord. Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool." (Isaiah 1:18)

Sometimes the many warnings against idolatry in the Bible can seem rather quaint or even ridiculous to us. After all, it just seems incredulous that God's people would be tempted to forsake him and instead bow down to hunks of wood, stone, or metal. However, the fact that the first two of the Ten Commandments are prohibitions against idolatry should grab our attention. Even in the New Testament, Paul and John remind their people about the danger of idols. The subtle power of idols in our culture today is that they are largely invisible. They have names like success, pleasure, competence, acceptance, and security. These are not bad things in and of themselves, but they have a sneaky way of moving into hearts and trying to occupy the place that only God was meant to. Lent is the perfect time to examine the idols of our hearts and look for ways that we might break their power in our lives by turning to God. Jeremiah lamented that the sins of his people were twofold: that they had forsaken God and attempted to find meaning apart from him. (Jeremiah 2:13) He is the source of running water, who offers to quench or spiritual thirst. May we turn towards him and away from our broken cisterns during this season of reflection.

The idea that we are engaged in a great spiritual battle can seem somewhat overblown in our middle-class culture full of creature comforts. Advertisers invite us to sample their latest product so we can kick back and enjoy the good life. Yet the Bible is clear that if we are serious about pursuing God and his kingdom, that we should expect to encounter resistance, opposition, and even downright hostility. We have an opponent who is both vicious and strong. It was a common practice for generals to rouse their troops before battle with an inspiring speech to remind them of who they were and what they were fighting for, to help them summon courage for the dangerous battle ahead. Paul does just his in Ephesians 6:10-20, a passage that serves as the culmination of everything he has written them so far. The major difference between Paul's words and those of some great general is that Paul exhorts his followers to be strong in God's strength, to put on God's armor, that they won't secure victory through their own efforts, but rather by trusting in the God who is fighting on their behalf. We stand and fight depending upon God's strength, not our own. And we fight with the words he has given us through the Bible and through prayer.

Unfortunately, many human relationships descend into an arduous and exhausting state that can only be characterized as a protracted tug of war. Each side, firmly convinced of their rightness, digs in their heels and pulls against the other with all their might, convinced that their strength, their ego, their superior resources will win the contest. Marriages are especially prone to this dynamic. Writing during a time when husbands exercised tremendous legal and financial advantages over their wives, it is striking that Paul enjoins husbands to follow Christ's example by embarking upon a path of servanthood and downward mobility. He says their leadership comes not from flexing their muscles and demanding their rights, but rather by laying down their lives in self-sacrifice. And he tells them to follow the same pattern in the way they treat their children and slaves. (Sadly, slavery was an entrenched feature of the Roman Empire.) But the bigger picture here is Paul's message that marriage is meant to be a picture of the passionate, intimate, sacrificial love that God has for his people. Not content to have mere servants doing his bidding, the Creator invites his creatures into a deep, mystical union with him, so much so that "the two will become one". (Ephesians 5:31)

It's so easy to just go through life on auto-pilot, doing what comes naturally and just blindly following our own instincts and desires. Spirituality, then, can be understood as a kind of waking up, a coming to attention of the reality of God's presence around us and in us. Paul writes to a group of people and encourages them to make a clean break from their old lives of sin, to take off the clothes of their old life and put on clothes that now fit their new life with God. He addresses specific behaviors that they should stop doing as well as ones they should begin. Read in isolation, these verses sound like a daunting DIY project of salvation by works. However, Paul could not be more clear that God is the one empowering them to change from the inside-out and to begin to live in new ways. God is the one who shakes them from their spiritual slumber: "Wake up, sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you." (Ephesians 5:14) Paul invites them into a new reality of paying attention to God's movements in their daily lives, a life where they are saturated, waterlogged even, with God's presence: "Be filled with the Spirit." (Ephesians 5:18)

The "Covid Fifteen" has hit our family with a vengeance! Clothes that used to comfortably fit us are suddenly too snug and tight. We've had to buy some new clothes to accommodate our larger proportions! In Ephesians 4:17-24, Paul exhorts his readers to "take off" the clothes of their old life that no longer fit them and to "put on" the clothes of their new life in Christ. Like us today, the Ephesians frequently felt the pull of their old life, calling them back to unhealthy, destructive ways of living. They lived in a prosperous, busy commercial port, with easy access to all the pleasures money could buy. Yet Paul is inviting them to be transformed. Contrary to our American notions of self-sufficiency and rugged individualism, Paul is clear here about a couple of things: 1) that transformation is an inside job, and 2) that transformation happens through community, through the help of others. It is God's Spirit working in us who produces genuine, lasting life change. It is God teaching us through others that helps us to think new thoughts and gain new insights that eventually lead to new behaviors. Like an apprentice learning from a great master, Paul is inviting us to sit at Jesus's feet and learn his ways, to be changed from the inside-out.

Just as children raised by caring parents grow up to become mature, responsible adults who contribute to society, so our heavenly Father desires that his children should grow and mature to become the people he created them to be. The Bible is clear that such growth doesn't happen alone, in isolation, but rather through a rich, shared experience of community in the body of Christ. In short, we get better through community. By rubbing up against people who are different from us and by sharing our unique gifts with each other, the church "grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work." (Ephesians 4:16) So many of our struggles in the American church today are due to our ingrained tendency towards a self-sufficient, rugged individualism that hinders us from admitting needs or asking for help. We are materially wealthy but relationally impoverished. But the early churches were in a struggle for their very survival, being a distinct minority in a hostile political climate. This struggle for survival made their shared experience of community all the richer. Whatever your gifts are, commit to using them this week to grow and build up the body of Christ. After all, community is not a spectator sport.

Valentine's Day is a wonderful time to celebrate and appreciate all of the people we love. It's also a fitting occasion to reflect on the source of that love -- God. "We love because he first loved us." (I John 4:19) In Ephesians 3:14-21, Paul prays his readers would experience the vast, deep, infinite love of Christ in a way that would touch their hearts and change the way they lived. His prayer is not just that they would intellectually understand God's love for them, but that they would personally know it. In a way, Paul here is trying to describe the indescribable, his heartfelt desire that the almighty, omnipotent, holy Creator of the universe would make himself and his love known to finite, mortal human beings. It's a prayer we all need to have prayed for us, and the kind of prayer we should pray for others. Take a few moments this week and pray for someone else (or even yourself!), placing their name in this prayer. Because we all need more of God's love in our lives.

Every four years when a new administration is elected, we hear lots about "reaching across the aisle," "bridging the partisan divide," and "working together." In short, we hear many lofty words about unity. Sadly, we also know all too well how infrequently it actually occurs. However, our divisions are not confined to the political realm. Churches and families seem to be more divided than ever over political, social, and racial issues. The early church was no different. The chief struggle in the early church was between Jewish Christians -- those who claimed Israel's history and heritage and had embraced Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah -- and Gentile Christians -- those with a pagan or even no religious background but who were also drawn to the hope of new life in Christ. These two groups of people could not have been more different. Many Jews interpreted the law as forbidding them to intermarry, associate, or even eat with Gentiles. This snobbery was not missed by Gentiles, who in turn regarded Jews with suspicion because of their inhospitable attitudes. Therefore, Paul's words in Ephesians 2:14 about making the two groups one and "destroying the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility" are utterly remarkable. Through the cross, Christ has accomplished the amazing feat of creating "one new person" (Eph. 2:16) out of the two groups. It's as if Christ has created an entirely new race of people, people who are neither Jewish nor Gentile. Paul is clear here that, contrary to politicians' promises, unity is not something we achieve through human effort and striving, but rather something we receive as a gift when we enter the body of Christ. Later on, he will give his readers (and us!) some practical tips for how to dwell and walk together in unity, but what he wants them to know first is that they already are one.

Several years ago, the show Extreme Makeover -- Home Edition captured me because of its beautiful picture of a family receiving a beautiful new home through a sheer gift. I think it is a fitting metaphor for the Christian story -- that through no doing of our own we receive a completely new and improved spiritual home. Ephesians 2:1-10 succinctly summarizes this transformation for a group of first-generation Christians Paul wrote to. These folks had a clear dividing line in their lives between the times before and after they encountered Christ. And the contrast between those two times couldn't have been any greater. Before Christ, they were spiritually dead, following the whims of the world, the cravings of their flesh, and the promptings of the devil -- under control of the unholy trinity. But now through a sheer gift of God's love, mercy, kindness, and grace, they have been made alive in Christ and in some mysterious way, are now raised and seated with him in the heavenly realms. Given our human proclivity towards religion and constantly evaluating our moral and spriritual performance, Paul repeated reminds them (and us!) that this gift is just that -- a gift, unearned and undeserved. Whatever "good works" they now do are simply a response to God's prior work in them. In fact, they themselves are living proof of this, since they are God's handiwork, his work of art, his masterpiece.

Sadly, "I'm praying for you!" has become a cliche, even sarcastic reply to dismiss others' deepest concerns. It can be a way to end a conversation when what the other person is sharing with us has become too heavy. Or it can be a way to contemptuously dismiss an opponent on social media, declaring that they are beyond human help. But in the Bible, the power of prayer -- which again, points to the power of our words -- is nothing short of incredible. People pray and seas divide, battles are won, the lame are healed, demons are cast out. One of my favorite prayers is found in Ephesians 1:15-23, where Paul offers words of such depth and beauty for his friends that it puts most of my prayers to shame. In short, he prays for God to reveal himself more fully to them, in order "that they may know him better." (v. 17) He also prays that God will give them inner enlightenment, that he will help them to see with "the eyes of their heart." (v. 18) Finally, he asks that they will experience the same kind of power that God used to raise Christ from the dead. (vv. 19-20) And aren't those things we all need -- to know God better, to better see and understand what is really happening around us, and to experience God's resurrection power in our daily lives? I know I do. The next time you tell someone you're praying for them -- and of course there's nothing wrong with that, so long as you follow through! -- put their name in this prayer. Pray for them about what matters most.

Although we live in an age that is deeply skeptical of knowledge or anyone claiming to speak the "truth," the Bible is clear that knowing the truth about what God has done for us is essential to us living the way he intends. Right understanding leads to right living, or at least it should. Nowhere is this connection between knowledge and behavior, between thinking and doing, clearer than in Paul's letter to the Ephesians. In chapters 1-3, Paul both teaches and reminds his community about all that God has done for them in Christ, how he has rescued them from their old, empty way of living and set them on a new path of forgiveness, redemption, and hope for the life to come. The ideas in these chapters are to form the base of their knowledge, their theology, that should propel them into "living a life worthy of the calling they have received." (Ephesians 4:1) Knowing and believing the correct things about God and all he has done for us helps us to make our way through this world that often creates uncertainty and anxiety in us. And one of the best ways to reorient our minds to reality is to simply say back to God the amazing things he has done for us -- worship. Paul opens his letter to the Ephesians with a seemingly endless, tapeworm-style sentence that piles up words, phrases, and clauses in a beautiful attempt to describe all that God has done for us in Christ. It's a sentence that covers their (and our) past, present, and future, all included in the cosmic sweep of God's mercy and love.

Unfortunately, Christians have developed a reputation as people who use the Bible as a blunt instrument to beat people over the head with, to say, "You're wrong and I'm right, and here's the proof!" Of course this approach leaves much to be desired and often does little to convince others of the error of their ways. But make no mistake, the Word is a weapon. The writer of Hebrews says that it is "Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart." (Hebrews 4:12). However, the language here suggests that God's Word is more of a scalpel for divine surgery rather than an offensive weapon to cut down others with. And that totally fits with the writer's purpose of encouraging a struggling community of believers who were considering throwing in the towel. Using examples from Israel's past, he alternately warns and encourages them to consider the living power of God's words as an instrument of divine change in their current setting. May we open ourselves this week to the searching power of God's Word to cut away harmful attitudes and patterns from our lives that we may remain firm in our faith until the end.

As powerful as our words are, they become virtually meaningless if they are incongruent with our deeds. The Bible is full of warnings of examples of people who claim to believe and say all the right things about God, but then contradict themselves by their actions. The Pharisees stand out as an obvious example -- religious leaders who claimed to love God and his Law, but who failed to love and serve the most vulnerable members of their society -- orphans, widows, lepers. There is a refreshing clarity and directness about James's letter in the New Testament. There is a great divide between the rich and the poor in the community he is writing to, and some are showing favoritism to the powerful rich. Yet James reminds them that their faith must reveal itself in tangible acts of mercy and assistance to those who have nothing. "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." (James 1:27). Clearly, there must be an alignment of our words and deeds if we are to become the people God has called us to be. And of course each of us has areas of our lives where this is not yet the case. But God is not calling us to moral and spiritual perfection, but rather to open ourselves up to a process where he brings our words and actions into greater and greater alignment, most notably in the ways that we love and serve others. Words matter. But they mustn't stand alone. "Show me your faith without deeds, and I will show you my faith by what I do." (James 2:18)

We've all experienced the pain of someone breaking their promise to us, or the guilt of us breaking our promise to someone else. We're hurt when others let us down, and we beat ourselves up when we let others down. Sadly, we've all experienced the pain of someone -- including ourselves -- "overpromising and under-delivering," as we are wont to say in the business world. Which leads to an interesting question -- why is it we feel the need to even make promises or oaths in the first place? How did we get to the place as a society where we determined it was necessary to cajole or coerce people into telling us the truth by stringing just the right combination of magic words together? I believe the roots of it go back to very beginning. Genesis 3 tells the story of Eve believing the serpent's lies, and the avalanche of lies that then followed. Adam and Eve hid because they were naked and afraid, because they deeply felt the guilt and shame of having disobeyed God's command. They covered themselves with fig leaves in a vain attempt to cover their shame. And ever since, we have been hiding and trying to cover ourselves. One of the ways we do that is through lying, lying in an effort to prove to others that we are better than we are, or to show that what happened really wasn't our fault -- like Adam blaming both God and Eve ("the woman you put here with me") in the same sentence to rationalize his terrible choice. Or like Eve blaming the serpent. Nothing is our fault, you see. Oaths are nothing new. In Matthew 5:33-37, Jesus ridiculed the Pharisees' hypocritical loopholes in their oath-making. In their sincere desire to avoid taking God's name in vain, they allowed oaths to be sworn to heaven, or earth, or Jerusalem... But Jesus, as always, goes right to the heart of the matter, asking why oaths are even needed at all. A simple yes or no should suffice. That you need to swear an oath at all means you have already lost, or as John Stott says, it's "a pathetic confession of your own dishonesty." So let's recommit this week to using our words properly. Both our lies -- and our truth -- have tremendous power to impact others.

We've all experienced times where we've tried to take steps towards healing, wholeness, or freedom, only to find our moves thwarted, blocked, or resisted. And though some of this might be explained by our own weakness or the discouragement of others, at times there seems to be a greater force at work that has set its will against us. The Bible is clear that we have a spiritual enemy, who, though invisible, is quite real. And he apparently studies us carefully, for he seems to have a knack for coming after our weakest spots. He is cunning and crafty, and he seeks to thwart any move we would make to live out of our identity as God's beloved daughter or son. Jesus engaged in a famous duel in the desert with the devil in Luke 4. They both get off some good shots, but it's clear in the end that Jesus is the victor as the devil is unsuccessful in his attempts to distract Jesus from his mission. There is much for us to glean from this passage in our struggle against the enemy. First and foremost is that God -- not the enemy -- is the one in charge. His Spirit led Jesus into the desert exactly for the purpose of this testing. So know that whenever you are tested, it is something that God is orchestrating to reveal your faith for what it is...or isn't. The second thing to note is how Jesus fires back at each of the devil's temptations. Rather than trying to ignore the devil's twisted words, He fires back with the words of scripture. We also must actively resist the devil's words and schemes rather than passively hoping they will just magically disappear. As much as we don't enjoy desert experiences, be encouraged today that we have a God who leads us into opportunities for testing and growth. And he gives us the help and resources we need to stand firm against our adversary.

When God speaks, things happen. We see this in the creation story of Genesis 1, where God brings the entire cosmos into being through the power of his mere words. We also see it in John 1, where God inaugurates a kind of new creation, again through his words. John begins his account by describing a mysterious Being who has God-like qualities who is named, ironically enough, the Word. For John's first audience, it may not have been immediately obvious who he was talking about at first, because it takes him fourteen verses to get to his big reveal: "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us." (John 1:14). Of course, we who are on the other side of history are in on the secret, but it's both beautiful and telling the way the John begins to unfold this mystery. Because it would have been an earthquake to people who, for 1400 years had affirmed, "Hear O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one." (Deuteronomy 6:4). Now, as God is doing a new thing, he does it through a Word who is with him but also IS him. Mysteriously, the Word is God but also distinct from God. We read the Bible not as end unto itself, but to encounter this living Word, Jesus Christ the Messiah.

Wisdom has fallen on hard times these days. We live in an age when seemingly every truth claim is questioned, challenged, or spun in the service of someone's agenda. Perhaps now more than ever we need to return to the ancient sources of wisdom. The book of Proverbs is one such source. On the surface, it may not seem like much -- just a collection of sayings and maxims that a particular group of people collected over the years. But there's more going on here than meets the eye. Because Proverbs claims to be a revelation of God's wisdom and God's ways. We see this in one of the book's opening verses: "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; but fools despise wisdom and instruction." (1:7). It is God's nature to reveal himself, to show us something of who he is. As a wise and loving Parent, he desires that we grow and mature by learning from him. But we do not always learn his ways directly from him, though that is certainly possible. More often than not, God uses intermediaries -- parents, teachers, or people who walk with Him-- to teach us about the patterns and ways that God works through in the natural world. "Walk with the wise and become wise..." (13.20) Proverbs challenges our basic posture to learning -- are we open and teachable, humble enough to admit there are things we don't yet know? Or are we proud and closed-off, thinking we've got life already figured out? Proverbs speaks to us by revealing God's wisdom to us through others who have been paying attention to him. We would do well to listen.

None of us likes being corrected, being told that we're doing something wrong. Yet sometimes that is exactly what we most need. The prophets had the unenviable job of telling stubborn people that they were going down the wrong path. Not surprisingly, those people didn't want to hear it. It's not surprising, then, that most prophets were persecuted or even killed for simply doing their job of speaking God's words. Jeremiah stands out as the most passionate and anguished Old Testament prophet. It's no wonder he is referred to as "the weeping prophet" and that the other book attributed to him is called Lamentations. Clearly, he did not revel in having a front-row seat to the death of his own country. Would any of us? Consider today who the prophetic voices are in your own life, both individually and corporately. Sometimes we all need a swift kick in the rear to get us back on the right path.

Listening is a lost art these days. It seems like everyone is talking at once, with no room to actually hear what someone else is saying. In our busy, crowded lives, listening to God can also go by the wayside if we're not careful. Sometimes we complain that God doesn't seem to speak to us. The story of Samuel reminds us that the correct question to ask is not, "Is God speaking?" but rather "Am I listening?". The ones who should have been listening -- the priests Eli and his sons -- weren't, so God instead speaks to a young boy, Samuel. How fitting, because his name means "God heard," a reference to when God heard his mother's desperate cries for a child to end her barrenness. I Samuel 3 portrays the dramatic fall of Eli's family contrasted with the steady rise of Samuel, all because Samuel put himself in a position to hear God's words. May we, like Samuel, have the purity of attention and focus to say, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening."

We're bombarded with so many words on a daily basis -- especially words that are trying to sell us or convince of us of something -- that it's easy to grow cynical and dismissive about them. The hollow promises of advertising and politics can leave us feeling cold and empty. And social media can sometimes be a twisted landscape of distorted, destructive words. What's the point in being careful with our words when others are so careless with theirs? Yet the Bible is full of admonitions to watch our words. In the classic summary of God's law -- the Ten Commandments -- two of them (that's 20% for those of you keeping score at home) are exclusively devoted to the use and misuse of words. The third commandment is a warning against misusing God's name, which by the way goes much deeper than simply not cussing. And the ninth commandment warns us agains the social damage of lying, the oppression we visit on others when we bear false witness against them. So give some thought today about the words you use to talk about God and others. They really do matter.

Words may not seem like much -- little puffs of air that seem to vanish as soon as they're spoken. But they have a subtle power about them, a power to linger on long after they're uttered. In fact, the Bible seems to indicate that words are irrevocable. That once they are spoken -- for better or for worse -- there is no taking them back. Some of us still remember hurtful words that were spoken to us or about us long ago. Or alternatively, we remember words of hope and encouragement spoken to us that changed the course of our lives. We see this principle at work in Genesis 27, when Jacob steals Esau's blessing. To be sure, there is great cultural distance between us and the ancient Hebrews, but the message here could not be clearer -- once Isaac has blessed Jacob, he cannot go back and bless Esau instead. So give thought today to the power and permanence of your words. The way that you name people, feelings, and situations has a strange way of causing those things to actually become so. And once those words are out there, there is no taking them back.

Some of my favorite stories are the Lord of the Rings trilogy, C.S. Lewis's Narnia series, and the Harry Potter books. I know many of you love these stories also. I believe one of the appeals of these stories is the characters' use of magic -- they say things, and then those things happen. I believe these stories are an echo of the deepest, truest Magic in the universe, the Magic we see in Genesis 1 where the Creator speaks the entire cosmos into existence through the power of mere words. I think one of the implications of this iconic chapter that we often overlook is that we who are made in God's image (Gen. 1:27) also wield tremendous power through the use of our words. We speak words of anger or encouragement over someone else, and create a world of either hurt or blessing. Or in our internal self-talk, we speak either words of despair or hope to ourselves and set the entire tone for the rest of our day. Truly, our words create our worlds.

Hello, this is James and I want to welcome you to my podcast, The Word is Very Near You! I believe that God wants to speak to us through the Bible and through his ongoing, everyday presence in our lives. Each episode, I will read and reflect on selected verses from the Bible, offering some brief information about context and background, always with an eye of helping us apply the words to our everyday lives. (Usually I will work through a book or theme in the Bible to give a larger framework and context for those verses.). Context helps us appreciate the original intent and meaning that the words were first written (and heard) in, which helps us to better understand the words' intent and meaning in our modern setting. Let us not forget that Bible reading is never meant to be an end unto itself, but rather a means of encountering the voice and presence of the Creator of the Universe, whose help and wisdom we desperately need in our lives. Indeed, the Word is very near us!