"Where Is God?" (Jer 2:4-13)

The Pinch-Hitter God

It has been said that even atheists become believers in a foxhole. Confronted with their powerlessness and the prospect of death, they suddenly find themselves praying for help. I imagine we can all identify with the experience—albeit in less surreal circumstances. It is common for us to turn to God when we run up against our own limits. Maybe a loved one has received a difficult diagnosis, and the doctors are doubtful. So, we turn to God. Maybe finances have dried up more than we anticipated, and we’re faced with the prospect of serious loss. So, we turn to God. Maybe we hit a rock bottom and realize we cannot manage our lives the way we thought we could. So, we turn to God. In each case, we turn to God as a sort of trump card, as a pinch hitter who will get us out of a jam.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German pastor who resisted the nationalism that overtook his nation in World War II, observed that this way of thinking—calling upon God only when we get in a jam—is actually symptomatic of society at large. In other words, society turns to God only when it reaches its own limits. When science runs up against a contradiction or a mystery, suddenly people start whispering about God. When the Twin Towers were inconceivably destroyed on 9/11, churches were suddenly packed and people were asking, “Where is God?” When people’s health deteriorates and they face the certainty of death, which is certainly a mystery, suddenly they start talking about God. The common thread is that when human knowledge or power comes up short, we start looking for God. We do not look for God at the center of life, where we feel quite capable and in control.  Only at the outer limits, where we are uncertain or helpless, do we begin to ask, “Where is God?”

Forgetting God When Things Are Good

The people of ancient Judah were like us, apparently. They did not ask, “Where is God?” when their lives were untroubled and they felt in control.

To recap, last week we read from the beginning of Jeremiah. We discovered that the big surprise in Jeremiah’s prophecy was not that Babylon would surely destroy Judah. Certainly, that would have caught people’s attention, but it would not have been a strange or unexpected take on events. Babylon was a growing empire, and its military was enjoying success after success. The big surprise was the claim that God, not Babylon, would accomplish Judah’s destruction. The big surprise was the claim that Judah’s battle would not be lost in the future on the battlefield, but rather that it had already been lost in the past in their hearts.

How had it been lost? In today’s passage, God twice attributes Judah’s downfall to the simple fact that the people had stopped asking, “Where is the Lord?” (Jer 2:6, 8). They will ask that question a lot in the days to come (cf. 2:27), when the Babylonian army destroys their land and takes them away into exile. Like us, they will turn to God when things get bad. The problem, God says, is that we don’t ask this question when things are good. We don’t look for God in our everyday lives, we don’t see or respond to God’s frequent gestures of love. We may enjoy the gifts, but we forget the Giver and mistake life as the work of our own hands.

God says in today’s scripture that God had brought the people into a land filled with good things. Life, in other words, was good. But the priests, the lawyers, the rulers—all of them stop asking, “Where is God?” (2:8). They forget that life is God’s gift to be shared, and instead compete for it as a prize to be won. Thus begins the people’s quiet departure from God and the subtle disintegration of society. People begin to live for themselves instead of for one another. The seeds of selfishness grow inconspicuously into struggle, conflict, and injustice. Society becomes divided against itself. I think Abraham Lincoln gave eloquent expression to this process when he declared in 1838, over twenty years before the Civil War, “If destruction be our lot, we ourselves [will] be its author and finisher.” What destroys us is not other people. What destroys us is what’s in our heart.

The irony is that, if we stop asking, “Where is God?” when things are good, then when things get bad and we do ask that question, God may already be far away. Not because God left us, but because we long ago left God (cf. 2:27). We are in such a poor spiritual condition, that we cannot recognize or receive or respond to God’s presence.

Divine Hide-and-Seek

Throughout the centuries, Jewish and Christian mystics have talked about life as though it were a game of divine hide-and-seek, in which we should always be looking for God in the hidden things. Meister Eckhart, a German theologian and mystic of the thirteenth century, says, “God is like a person who clears his throat while hiding and so gives himself away.” God wants to be found.

The question is, are we looking for God? Will we hear God clear his throat? Or is our attention turned in other directions? It’s like Jesus said: where our treasure is, there our heart will be. When I cast my gaze over our national landscape, I see many hearts that dwell on Wall Street, or in the capital, or in Hollywood. I see people asking, “Where is the money? Where is power? Where is acceptance and popularity?” These questions, Jeremiah says, are like trying to draw water from cracked containers when we have a fountain of living water right beside us. Money, power, status—they all promise us so much but deliver so little. We never quite find what we’re looking for. We’re left striving, struggling, exhausted, and alone.

What will we find if instead we ask, “Where is God?”? Well, this may be obvious, but it’s certainly good news worth repeating. Jesus promised us that if we seek, we will find God’s Spirit (Luke 11:9-13). I imagine that we each encounter God differently. But however we encounter God, the effect is the same: we are drawn out of ourselves and into a deeper relationship with others and all the world. Our society prizes upward mobility, which often results in competition and isolation. But many spiritual leaders have remarked that looking for God will lead us downward, as it did for Christ. We may discover that looking for God draws us to the needs of others and also to acknowledge our own needs as well (cf. Luke 14:7-14).

The Examen Prayer

Jeremiah’s prophecy suggests that asking, “Where is the Lord?” should be a daily practice. When we ask this question, we find ourselves drawn into a better way of life. For this reason, I would like to share with you a particular practice of prayer that asks just this question, “Where is God in my world?” Popularized by the 16^th century Spanish priest Ignatius of Loyola, this practice is often referred to as the examen prayer because it is a prayerful examination of God’s activity in our life. There’s an insert in your bulletin that outlines this way of prayer. (You could also google it and discover much more.) I’ll invite us to practice an abbreviated form of it right now, but I’d also encourage you to try it out a few times on your own. If you find it helpful, you might add it to your spiritual toolkit.

I’ll invite you to keep your eyes closed throughout the guided prayer, if you feel comfortable, as it may be easier to focus without visual distraction.

We begin with an opening prayer:

1. Loving God, lift up our eyes
To see beyond the limits
Of our own immediate interests.
Help us to see our lives and world
As you see our lives and world.

…

2. Now, allow your heart to open up.
Allow your heart to be thankful…
For anything that is good and has drawn you into the fullness of life and closer to God.

…

3. Now, allow the events of this past week to arise in your mind.
They may be events that include others, or events that happened in solitude.
They may be events that made you happy, or events that made you upset.
Do not analyze the events that rise from your heart to your mind.
Simply observe them.

…

4. For now, select the two or three events that seem most significant to you.
Review each one and ask,
“Where was God?
Was I drawn closer to God?
Or led further away?”

…

5. Now, listen for how God may be teaching you.
What is God’s lesson for you in these events?
Can you live more closely to God in similar future events?
How might you live faithfully?

…

We end now with a closing prayer:

Loving God,
Fountain of living water—
We thirst for you,
Yet turn frequently to cracked cisterns
That will not satisfy.
Help us to ask regularly,
“Where are you?”
That we might know your love
And share it with the world.
In Christ, who humbled himself: Amen.

History Written by the Heart (Jer 1:4-10)

History as a Game of Power

I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Game of Thrones? It was a wildly popular HBO television series based on a set of fantasy novels written by George R. R. Martin. It is estimated to have made HBO a profit of over two billion dollars.[1] I’ve only seen a handful of episodes, but I wouldn’t really recommend it. It’s filled with gratuitous violence and sex, and at the end of the day, no matter how many thrills and twists it packs, it tells a very straightforward story. It is all about power. It is exactly as its title suggests. Competitors for the throne duke it out with one another, employing whatever means suits them. Their exercise of political power assumes various shapes: military, diplomacy, alliances, espionage, betrayal, and propaganda. On the one hand, the series revels in the drama and arguably exaggerates it, regularly depicting brutal backstabbing and bloody scenes of conquest. On the other hand, you might say the series is quite realistic. It reveals the logic that animates much of our politics today, namely win-at-all-costs.

In some ways, the series reminds me of history class. In history class, we studied the past as though it were shaped primarily by people who imposed their will on the world, either through war or revolution or legislation or a decisive contribution in the form of an invention or new idea. We studied history like a sports game that was won or lost by big players making big plays.

While our personal lives rarely approach the dramatic and bloody extremes depicted in history books and TV shows like Game of Thrones, I imagine this way of viewing life is actually our default. We look around and we see various powers competing with one another: nations, political parties, candidates for office, businesses, employees scampering up the ladder, and so on. I imagine that this way of viewing life has always been the default, even over two thousand years ago in the seventh century BCE, when the people of Judah looked beyond their walls at the national superpowers encroaching on their land. To the south stood the ancient empire of Egypt. To the northeast they saw the emerging empire of Babylon, who was on the cusp of overtaking Assyria, the old guard in the ancient Near East. Poor Judah didn’t stand a chance against these empires, and the people of Judah knew it. Every year, heavy taxes turned them upside down and emptied their pockets, just so their king could go groveling to either Egypt or Babylon and pay a hefty tribute that would hopefully ensure the empire’s good favor and protection. The people of Judah knew how precarious their situation was. It was like being caught between two bullies, never knowing if your lunch money would be enough to buy one off. If something ever happened, the situation could deteriorate very quickly, and Judah would have had little hope on the basis of its own military strength.

How History Is Really Written

It wouldn’t take any political expertise, then, to imply as Jeremiah does that Babylon would one day “pluck up” and “pull down” its little neighbor. It wouldn’t take much special insight to foresee that Babylon would “destroy and overthrow” Judah. That’s what the Babylonian empire was in the habit of doing. If they were a sports team, they would have been undefeated in the seventh century BCE. This is not to say that the people of Judah would have liked hearing this forecast. Most of them were rather like an ostrich sticking its head in the ground, trying to ignore the reality surrounding them until it went away. God says elsewhere that the powerful and privileged in Judah were too busy making a profit off the poor and growing “rich” and “fat” to pay much attention to what was happening (cf. 5:27-28). But Babylon’s growing power was undeniable. They were the big kid on the block, and few would have put money on Judah in a fight with Babylon. If Jeremiah had said, “They’re bigger than us. This is going to end badly,” people would have at least understood where he was coming from.

But that’s not what Jeremiah said.

Today’s scripture tells us what Jeremiah did say, and why he said it. This scripture is often referred to as Jeremiah’s “call story,” and it follows a familiar pattern that we see throughout the Bible. God calls somebody. They resist. We see this with Moses, who protests that he can’t speak well (Ex 4:10). We see it with Isaiah, who protests that his lips are unclean (Isa 6:5). We see it later in Peter, who protests to Jesus, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man” (Luke 5:8). In each case, God insists that what matters is not the individual’s ability, but simply their faithfulness. When Jeremiah protests, “I am only a boy,” God says, “Don’t be afraid, for I am with you and will give you the words to say.”

Then God announces to Jeremiah what will be the heart of his prophecy. “Today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant” (Jer 1:10). Hidden in this message is the real surprise of Jeremiah’s prophecy. Here God claims that history is not written by the obvious forces of empires and kings and military strength, but rather by an unseen spiritual power. For most people, it was obvious that, if anyone plucked up and pulled down Judah, it would be Babylon’s military. Just as today, it would be obvious that the rise and fall of nations has to do with governments and big business and armed forces. But God declares to Jeremiah that it is not Babylon who will accomplish Judah’s destruction. It is God. And it has to do with what’s been happening in the people’s hearts.

The Truth Erupts

It’s hard not to get ahead of ourselves with today’s scripture. God gives a preview of the prophecy that Jeremiah will proclaim, but no real details. We catch a glimpse global upheaval, nations rising and nations falling, and God somehow at the heart of it, but we are not given any explanation for why one nation rises and another falls. God hasn’t gotten around yet to explaining why Judah will be plucked up.

I want to maintain this suspense. Why is God planning to pluck up Judah? Why has God authorized its destruction? We don’t know yet. All we can say right now is that God interprets history not in the conventional terms of political power, of who has the biggest army or the smartest leader, but in spiritual terms. God interprets history not in terms of battles or elections or presidents or legislative victories, but in terms of (as our Hebrews passage today puts it) what “cannot be touched.” God seems to be relocating history from empires and armies to the quiet, unseen space of our heart and the inconspicuous, automatic habits that are slowly shaping us and our world. In our unremarkable, commonplace lives, Christ either lives or is rejected. Either way, our lives and our world bear the consequence.

As I ponder God’s interpretation of history, I am reminded of Vaclav Havel, who was a poet and playwright that lived in Czechoslovakia during its communist era. He wrote a famous letter to Czechoslovakia’s dictator, Gustav Husak, in which he effectively said, You can do whatever you like, but eventually the truth always wins. “Life and history,” he says, will “demand their due.”[2] He describes the truth as something that lurks in the heart, as something that can erupt out of nowhere: “The machine that worked for years to apparent perfection, faultlessly, without a hitch, falls apart overnight. The system that seemed likely to reign unchanged, world without end, since nothing could call its power in question…is shattered without warning. And, to our amazement, we find that everything was quite otherwise than we had thought.”[3] Havel wrote this letter in 1975. For nearly 15 years, the dictatorial government seemed to control history, but underneath the surface lurked the truth—the truth, for example, that artificial entertainment and a relatively comfortable home life could not satisfy a people’s need for honesty and real community and lives of purpose. Finally, in November 1989, the truth erupted. It began with a student movement and grew day by day until the entire nation went on strike. The communist government crumbled in the face of this nonviolent movement, which has been called the Velvet Revolution (or Gentle Revolution).

What is the truth that lurked beneath the surface in ancient Judah, in its people’s hearts? What is the truth that lurks beneath the surface in the 21^st-century United States, in our hearts? If Jeremiah’s prophecy is any indication, what happens in the capitol or on Wall Street or in Hollywood is but an extension of what is already happening in our hearts, where history is really unfolding.

Stay tuned for the truth that is unfolding in Judah as we read through Jeremiah these next couple months. (If you’d like, you can read ahead. We’ll be spending the next month in the first twenty chapters of Jeremiah.) Perhaps in Jeremiah’s prophetic word to Judah, we will hear a prophetic word for our own world. For like Judah, our world also puts its trust in outside forces and disregards what is in the heart.

Prayer

Hidden God,
Whose love works unseen in our world,
Overthrowing mighty empires
And raising life from the ruins
…
Help us to see
Beyond presidents and political parties
History being written
By the humble figure of Christ,
Who is making all things new. 

In Christ, crucified and risen: Amen.

---

[1] “How ‘Game of Thrones’ Generated $2.2 Billion Worth of Profit for HBO,” https://decider.com/2019/05/21/game-of-thrones-hbo-profits/, accessed August 15, 2022.

[2] Vaclav Havel, Living in Truth (ed. Jan Vladislav; Boston: Faber and Faber, 1986), 34.

[3] Havel, Living in Truth, 30.

The Fire and Sword of Christ (Luke 12:49-56)

A Hero or a Fool?

Born in Austria at the beginning of the 20^th century, Franz Jägerstätter grew up with a reputation for being a bold, adventurous soul. He was the first man in his village to own a motorcycle. Given his competitive streak, he was no stranger to the odd fistfight. At the age of 26, he fathered an illegitimate child. At 29, he settled down and married, and he had three daughters. When the Nazis annexed Austria in 1938, he was identified as a natural leader and offered the position of town mayor, which he declined. Franz was no saint. But many of the townspeople respected him and even looked up to him. He was a man’s man, and his occasional missteps were just considered the collateral of a vivacious personality.

Apparently around the time of his marriage, Franz became curious about his faith. He had grown up in the church, but never taken it seriously. But his wife did. So he started asking questions about what it meant to follow Christ. And these questions ultimately set him on a collision course with the world, which would end in a fiery baptism. In 1943, with three daughters under the age of six, he was called to active duty in the Austrian military, which of course was under Nazi command. He refused to enlist on the grounds of his faith. He refused to take up the sword in a war machine that preyed on its neighbors and turned out death and poverty. For this, he was arrested and finally executed by beheading.

Was Franz a hero or a fool for living out his faith to the death? Opinion in his hometown and even within his family was sharply divided. Most people actually saw Franz as foolishly stubborn. In their eyes, this was a good, respectable family man who had gotten religion and gone too far. Was it worth risking his life for the sake of his faith? Would he deprive his family of a husband and a father? And what about his duty to his country? It was considered an obligation and an honor to serve one’s country when it called upon you. Even his priest and his bishop disapproved of his objection to military service. Citing Romans 13, they counseled him to submit to the governing authorities. When his body was returned to his hometown after his execution, many disapproved of the idea that he should receive a solemn funeral. Their sons, husbands, and brothers had fought courageously in the war. They were the heroes, not Franz, the man who had refused his duty. When his name was carved with other war casualties at a village memorial, it was defaced.[1]

In the eyes of the world, Franz was a fool. But in the eyes of God? Paul says that the wisdom of God is foolishness to the nations (1 Cor 1:23). Perhaps the foolishness of Franz was the wisdom of God. For his witness said “no” to the sin around him: “no” to the death camps where the Nazis sent all the undesirables; “no” to nationalism and the Nazi’s white supremacy; “no” to the sword of the aggressor that was ravaging the continent.

Change and Pain

Today’s gospel text is jarring for many of us. Jesus speaks in terms that seem antithetical to the gospel he had been proclaiming. Earlier in the story, he had rebuked James and John when they suggested calling down fire from heaven against unreceptive towns (9:54). But now he speaks about bringing fire to the earth (12:49). Earlier in the story, Zechariah had prophesied that Jesus would guide people “in to the way of peace” (1:79). Jesus himself instructs his followers to proclaim peace as they deliver the good news (10:5). But in today’s text, he insists he has come not to bring peace but rather division! (12:51). What’s going on? Is Jesus changing his message?

A closer look suggests that he is not changing his message, but rather that his message is all about change. Real peace—the peace that he brings—is like a fire and like a sword, because it says “no” to the judgment and violence that has become automatic in our lives. It burns and cuts at the sinful attitudes and practices that have become second nature. Blessing an enemy instead of retaliating? That is a real change. Giving to all who ask and not expecting anything in return? That is a real change. Not judging others or competing with them, but instead paying attention to our own spiritual condition? That is a real change (cf. Luke 6:27-38). Earlier in the gospel, John the Baptizer had proclaimed that Jesus would baptize people with “the Holy Spirit and fire” (3:16). Later in the New Testament, the writer of Hebrews refers to God’s word as “sharper than any two-edged sword” (Heb 4:12). When Christ dwells within us, there are sure to be painful moments when it feels like a fire or a sword within. The good news, of course, is that this pain is purposeful. In the words of our Hebrews scripture today, God is transforming life into “something better.” Jesus says that he cannot wait until the fire is kindled and his baptism is complete, not because he loves pain, but because God’s changes are for the better. God’s changes are what bring about the kingdom of God.

A Gospel That Burns and Cuts

It is hard for us to see it, but, according to Jesus, the life of Franz Jägerstätter was not in vain. True, he did not stop the Nazis. What he refused to do for them, someone else surely did. But he bore witness to a different way of life, and this witness was so strong that people couldn’t stop talking about it, even when they disagreed with it. That’s why his story is still told today. His story is kindling in God’s fire, a thrust of God’s sword, probing us as a society, asking us what really matters. National security? A political party’s triumph? The financial interests of the privileged? The preservation of our neighborhood’s demographic? Or…the wellbeing of the poor? The embrace of the marginalized? The welcome of strangers?

I heard the story once of a teenager who started going to church. At first, his parents were thrilled. They figured church could only benefit their son. But as it happens, the youth minister at this church was leading a study on the sermon on the mount, where Jesus boldly declares the values of the kingdom of God, such as simplicity, trust in God, and generosity. When the teenager graduated high school, he decided that he would move to an impoverished part of town to live there with a faith community that was working for better conditions in the neighborhood. His parents were surprised and deeply upset. Would he not go to college? Would he not get a job that paid him well? Would he really choose to live in this dangerous part of town? When they learned that their son had been inspired by his youth group’s study of Jesus’ teaching, their anger acquired a target. They took offense at the youth minister and clamored for his resignation. They had thought the youth group would provide their son with good friends and helpful advice for navigating life’s anxieties. They had not expected it to lead him into what they saw as harm’s way.

The prophetic Salvadoran archbishop Oscar Romero once said, “A church that doesn’t provoke any crises, a gospel that doesn’t unsettle, a word of God that doesn’t get under anyone’s skin, a word of God that doesn’t touch the real sin of the society in which it is being proclaimed—what gospel is that?” Well, today’s scripture confronts me with a gospel that burns and cuts. But it’s not a message of fire and brimstone, of punishment and condemnation. Rather, it is good news. Jesus really does take away the sin of our world. Only…it might feel like a fire or a sword, because the sinful attitudes and habits of our world are deeply ingrained and not easily removed. They do not fall away magically, but only as we follow Christ through flame and sword, and bear witness to a different, better way.

Prayer

Holy God,
Whose good news entails change:
Burn and cut within our soul
Where we still cling
To the violent, judgmental ways of our world
Instead of welcoming your kingdom
…
May we bear witness,
Like Christ, like Franz,
To your dream
Of abundant life for all. In Christ, crucified and risen: Amen.

---

[1] Willard F. Jabusch, “Franz Jägerstätter: The Austrian Farmer Who Said No to Hitler,” https://www.americamagazine.org/politics-society/2007/08/27/franz-jagerstatter-austrian-farmer-who-said-no-hitler, accessed August 9, 2022.

Receiving the Kingdom (Luke 12:32-40)

Good and Difficult News

Today’s gospel reading begins with an incredibly reassuring promise: “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom” (12:32). For me, however, the reassurance is short-lived. I am quickly unsettled by the invitation that immediately follows. “Sell your possessions, and give alms” (12:33). Talk about a promise with a catch.

It is common for interpreters to soften or rationalize Jesus’ call to a life of radical simplicity and generosity. For example, when Jesus tells the rich ruler he lacks one thing and invites him to sell everything and give the money to the poor, commentators explain that Jesus is not speaking to everyone. Rather he has tailored this invitation specifically to the greedy heart of the rich ruler. For the rich man to know freedom in God, he must give up his greed and therefore his possessions. But in today’s passage, Jesus makes the same invitation not to a particular person but to all his disciples. To me, it sounds like a universal invitation. It sounds like a necessary condition for receiving the kingdom. “God desires to give you the kingdom. Go, sell your possessions and give alms, so that you can receive it!”

This is one of those occasions when the gospel does not sound like good news to me, but rather difficult news. I have a hunch, though, that precisely these occasions are the ones where I have yet to be fully converted to the way of Christ. These occasions are where I am settling for what I consider good, instead of following Christ into something better.

Good News for the Church?

So, today, instead of focusing on what seems difficult to me—which is what I already do much of my life—I want to focus on what is better about Jesus’ promise here. Maybe the good actually outweighs the difficult.

When I read this scripture and listen for the good news, I hear especially a word of promise to a church in decline. I’m not talking about Trinity specifically, but about the church in general across our nation and much of the world. Jesus has good news for this church. And the good news that I hear is that we can stop worrying about ourselves. We can stop worrying about attracting new members, saving our buildings, or growing our churches. We can stop worrying because it is God’s good pleasure to give us the kingdom.

Many churches get anxious for the future because they assume that it depends on their survival. So they strive to preserve, to maintain, to build, to grow, to expand. What fascinates me, though, is Jesus almost never talks about the kingdom of God as something that we build or advance or plan or extend. Instead, he regularly talks about the kingdom of God as something that is coming, that arrives, that we receive or enter. In other words, it is not about us succeeding at church, but about us receiving whatever God wants to give us. It is not about ability or achievement but about openness.

What follows is a bit of a mashup between the two scriptures we heard earlier. Between the two of them, I hear a word of promise spoken to the church in general. A difficult promise, to be sure, but even more than that, a good promise. I’m not sure how inspired this mashup really is. I’ll leave that to your judgment. You can take what you like and leave the rest. You really can leave it all, if you’d like.

If, on the other hand, your curiosity is piqued, I hope you’ll let me know. There is a short, four-week study that has caught my eye, which our Anabaptist brothers and sisters have published, and which explores what church may look like in these changing times. I would really like to embark on this study at some point with fellow followers of Christ.

Now, without further ado:

Not Built by Us, but Given by God

Do not be afraid, little flock,
Asking, “How shall we grow?”
“How shall we attract more people?”
“How shall we keep our doors open?”

The kingdom of God is not something you build,
Nor is it something that you muster and marshal,
Nor is it something about which you can say, “Look, here it is!” (cf. 17:21).

Do not be afraid, little flock,
For it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.

So let go of your little kingdoms.
Open up your buildings, lend them, lose them;
share your savings and pour out your rainy-day funds.
Give what you do not need today to the needful.

Make your treasure something other than a building, or a civic club, or a bank account.
Did I ask for these steeples?
Does their height get you any closer to my heart?
Did I ask you to dress up?
Does formal attire clothe you in the likeness of Christ?
Did I ask you to protect the interests of a few?
Does your subsistence spread my love?

Make your treasure something that cannot be sold or stolen or set ablaze.
Make your treasure something like
The smiles of strangers
And the embracing of enemies,
The ease of the elderly
And the joy of children,
The serving of the needful
And the table of shared bread and cup.

For your life will be as good as your treasure.
So make your treasure what is truly good.

Always be ready to receive this treasure,
For the kingdom is already among you (cf. 17:21).
It will come like a knock on the door,
Like a ring on the phone,
Like an interruption on the street.
It will come in a voice that needs to be heard,
In a face that needs to be seen,
In a body that needs to be embraced.

If you but open the door,
You will see I am with you.
For I am hidden in the weakness of this world:
I am with you in those who worry,
I am with you in those who grieve,
I am with you in those who hunger,
I am with you in those who have no home.

Be with these
(Who are always closer to you than you know)
And you will be with me.
Let honest conversation with them be your prayer.
Let care for them be your praise.
Let broken bread and shared cup be your joy.

Then you will have a church that cannot be destroyed,
That cannot be sold,
That cannot be closed.
Then you will have the kingdom,
Which it is my good pleasure to give you.

Prayer

God, our shepherd,
Your rod and staff comfort us,
But they also challenge us.
“Sell your possessions, and give alms.”
This call of Christ is nearly paralyzing!
…
Help us to understand what these words mean for us—
To understand how they might be good news.
Plant these words in our heart like a seed
That may one day bear fruit better than we have ever known.
Thank you for giving us the kingdom.
Help us always to be ready to receive it.
In Christ, whose heart is gentle and humble: Amen.