Category Archives: gratitude

The Covenant Within

Readings: Psalm 80:1-7; Jeremiah 31:31-34; Hebrews 10:10-18

The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah. It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt – a covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, says the Lord. But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more. Jeremiah 31:31-34, NRSV

I’d put this one in the “too good to be true” category. Imagine a promise of God that the covenant will be written in our hearts. Jeremiah seems to be saying that someday we’ll be struck by a holy zap that will transform us. We won’t have to do anything. In an instant we will live as God wants us to live. We will love our neighbors as ourselves. We will no longer be victims of our own ego needs. We will turn the other cheek and give the shirt off our back. And it will all come easily, naturally. We’ll simply start to live that way. What a promise!

But there’s one word in this passage that should get our attention and help us see that the promise is not what it might seem at first glance. That word is covenant. Covenant is always mutual. It requires action from both parties. What Jeremiah is offering to us is a description of God’s side of the covenant. But there is still our side that needs to be fulfilled. As much as I resist using pietistic evangelical language, I have to admit that it has a way of getting at that side that is both simple and direct: “Let Jesus come into your heart.” You see, that is what the promise shared by Jeremiah is all about—the covenant being written in our hearts. And Jesus is what that covenant is all about, the sign and guarantee of God’s part of the covenant. Our part is a willingness to be open enough, honest enough, courageous enough to let Jesus in.

That, I believe, is one of the reasons for Advent. It is a time of preparation. That preparation isn’t always easy. It takes effort on our part. But in Advent we are more likely to be able to do what it takes, because in Advent we have before us the promise of a covenant fulfilled in the birth, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. A covenant written in our hearts isn’t necessarily easy to fulfill, but it is radically different from the old covenant. It is no longer a matter of following rules and regulations, of obeying the law. Now it is a matter of living out the new reality of who we are because Jesus has in fact come into our hearts.

Offered by Jeff Jones, to light our path to Bethlehem.

Reconciled, reconciling

If anyone is in Christ she/he is a new creation; the old has passed away, behold the new has come. All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to Godself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation. (BCP, p.106, 2 For. 5:17-18)

God offers us the chance to be a new creation, every minute of every day. The old can pass away at any time, and the new ushered in with gladness. This isn’t something we do for ourselves – it’s a blessing Christ offers.

Thanks be to God, we respond.

But there’s something missing if we leave it at that. God also gave us the ministry of reconciliation – the joy and responsibility of handing on that reconciliation in our own lives, our own relationships. It’s not an easy or pleasant thing in all times, places, and circumstances. Sometimes, reconciliation is painful, difficult, and at the expense of something we’d rather do or have.

This ministry of reconciliation doesn’t seem like much of a gift compared to the chance to be a new creation. But there it is. I’m going to take it on faith that this ministry of reconciliation is every much the gift that new life is. For that reason, I’ll respond:

Thanks be to God.

The Words of My Mouth

July 16, 2021

Twenty years ago today, just after eight in the morning, Jared Embrey Fredrickson arrived. For these twenty years, I’ve watched him grow from an infant to toddler, elementary student to high school graduate. That first day, I didn’t know what his favorite color would be, what would make him laugh or cry, or where he would find God’s presence in his life. What I did know: the words I would say and the words I would leave unsaid would matter to him. Tone of voice and eye contact would make a difference; whether I was talking to him or at him mattered.

Words matter, and the heart behind the words matters even more. There are a few prayers that I say because of this truth.

Teach me to act firmly and wisely, without embittering and embarrassing others.

Direct my will, teach me to pray, pray thou thyself in me.

And most important:

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer. Psalm 19:14

Marc Cohn, The Things We’ve Handed DownThe Best of Marc Cohn

God To Surround Me

What surrounded me today?  Images on screens, traffic, Ikea shoppers, clothes on the drying racks.

What surrounded you?

I wish I had taken the time to ask for God’s presence in what I saw on various screens, on routes 495 and 24, in the aisles at Ikea, and in my bedroom. But I didn’t.

Lucky for me, God is willing to work with what’s here rather than waiting for the state of my soul to improve.

That’s true for everyone,  including you.

Thank God.

The Deer’s Cry, The Pilgrim, Rita Connolly, Shaun Davey, 1994

Ann’s Colors

Colors (by Shel Silverstein)

My skin is kind of sort of brownish

Pinkish yellowish white.

My eyes are greyish blueish green,

But I’m told they look orange in the night.

My hair is reddish blondish brown,

But it’s silver when it’s wet.

And all the colors I am inside

Have not been invented yet.

[Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends, New York: HarperCollins, 1974, p. 24]

Ann Fowler picked this poem to share for last Thursday’s poetry reading. The theme was “color,” and these eight lines are all about that. In fifty words (a few more, if you count the contractions as two words), a simple and profound truth: what we are on the inside is so much more than a passing glance of the outside reveals.

Twenty-six years ago today, I stood with my love in a church chapel. We said our vows and began a whole new adventure. I know Dave better than most do, but I don’t kid myself into thinking I’ve seen all his inside colors. There’s a lot more to see.

But what I have seen these past twenty-six years: amazing.

August 25, 2020

Contemporary Announcement (1983)

Contemporary Announcement 

Ring the big bells,

cook the cow, 

put on your silver locket.

The landlord is knocking on the door

and I’ve got the rent in my pocket.

Douse the lights,

Hold your breath,

take my heart in your hand.

I lost my job two weeks ago

and rent day’s here again.

[Maya Angelou, Contemporary Announcement; Shaker, Why Don’t You Sing?; New York: Random House, 1983]

That wonderful feeling when there’s enough money to cover the basics: food, clothing, shelter. The dread and shame when there’s not enough money to cover the basics: food clothing, shelter. In just two paragraphs and a word short of a full deck’s count, Maya Angelou puts us in that rented apartment.

These words are being lived out by millions today, thirty plus years after Angelou published them. Will we ever learn that poverty is not a moral shortcoming or a character flaw?

Jesus, Saint Francis, and Gandhi all figured that out. I have hope the rest of us can, too.

 

A Great Gray Elephant

A great gray elephant,

A little yellow bee,

A tiny purple violet,

A tall green tree,

A red and white sailboat

On a blue sea –

All these things

You gave to me,

When you made

My eyes to see –

Thank you, God.

[National Society for the Prevention of Blindness, Inc]

God gave me the world when God gave me sight – and touch, smell, taste, and hearing. Through these senses, I discover the world.

But I have to remember that all these things aren’t my personal possessions. God-given is an offer of sharing, not a transfer of ownership.

(A Great Gray ElephantPoems and Prayers For The Very Young; selected by Martha Alexander; New York: Random House, 1973)

Gospel According to Shel

THE SEARCH

I went to find the pot of gold

That’s waiting where the rainbow ends.

I searched and searched and searched and searched

And searched and searched, and then –

There it was, deep in the grass,

Under an old and twisty bough.

Its’ mine, it’s mine, it’s mine at last…

What do I search for now?

Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends; New York: HarperCollinsPublishers, 1974, p. 166

It’s the last poem in the collection, followed by a couple of blank pages and an index. I could just pass it off as a clever rhyme, but I’ve spent too much time reading works of wisdom and mystical theology to do that. When I reach the last couple of pages in the book that is my life, I hope that I’ve done more than search for some coins in a pot. With just a couple of blank pages to go before I reach the obituary/index, I pray that the decades of pages I was given hold words of love and beautiful illustrations – not just the tracks of someone running as fast as possible to reach the end.

Unexpected Gifts

Seventeen years ago, I ordered heirloom hollyhocks from Burpee – three red and three yellow. Once the first summer passed, they bloomed faithfully every year. Being an heirloom variety, they reseeded themselves as well. But after the first five years, they didn’t stay the same: along with the red and yellow flowers, cross-pollination created blossoms of varying colors. About five years back, the original red and yellow didn’t return. Reseeding also caused a migration: plants grow halfway up the walkway rather than at the end, and a few have come up in my neighbor’s flower beds.

There’s something wonderful about a world that fosters change and growth in unexpected ways. I haven’t had a hand in the hollyhocks that grace my front walk in any meaningful way – a little weeding, watering, and feeding is all I’ve done. But these plants have been transformed through their own innate capacity. How wonderful is that!

There’s a generosity to nature that’s hard to deny when $19.95 spent seventeen years ago yields such beauty. Constantly growing and changing, constant in reappearance. But if I didn’t know where it all began, I doubt I’d appreciate this ever-transforming botanical miracle…