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Ungodly
I will call to mind the deeds of the Lord; I will meditate on all your work. – Psalm 77:11a & 12a (NRSV)
There’s a problem with being made in the image of God: it’s easy to acquire a God complex.
“I have the divine right to…” “I hold the indisputable position to…” “I have the sovereign authority to…” “I have the superior righteousness to…” Fill in the blank with any example from the news. The divine right to go to war. The indisputable position to rewrite history. The sovereign authority to withhold food. The superior righteousness to deny freedom.
After all, God went to war, biblically speaking. God instituted famines, subordinated the histories of other gods, captured cities and peoples and subjected them to God’s divine will. We who are made in the image of God can surely do the same.
Of course, we might prefer not to see ourselves in the image of a warring, petty God.
More appealing might be: I have the divine right to love. The indisputable position to care for creation. The sovereign authority to demand justice. The superior righteousness to believe I am one of the “good guys” in a world of “bad guys.” Still a God complex, albeit in the image of a magnanimous God.
(There’s also the less obvious God complex, which sounds like: I am forever wrong. I hold no significance. I cannot change. I am subject to the world’s whims. Still an immovable position that inflates self-perspective.)
Against any complex, the psalms remind us: Our works are not wonders for meditation. Our images are not the grace to which people turn. Our reputations are not the power by which earth trembles or waters part.
We are made in the image of God, yes. And we are not God, ever.
To confuse the two is ungodly.
Prayer: Call my mind to meditate on you, O God—morning, noon, and night.
cross-posted with the Daily Devotional (ucc.org)
Many Miracles
The crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard [the disciples] speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? … [Yet] in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power. What does this mean?” Acts 2:6-12 excerpted (NRSV)
Language is a delightfully mystical phenomenon. Set aside the oddities of grammar and the hazards of translation, and you’ll find that language is a kind of miracle: A few funny scribbles on the page, a line here, a swoop there, and voilà! The scribbles now convey ideas that live beyond the page and the ink.
I can write three symbols, for example—R, E, D—and your mind’s eye immediately paints a picture of blooming roses, or of campfire sparks drifting up to the sky on a summer night, or of your grandmother’s red sweater that she wore to church on Pentecost and Christmas, always with a gold broach appropriate to the holiday.
Letters are only scribbles and sounds, yet when assembled together, they can capture our lived experiences. Miraculous!
As with most miracles, of course, language can be a source of confusion and conflict. Do we insist upon a single interpretation, confining language like wine to an old flask? Do we worry its inconsistencies to the point of death-by-grammar, concerned that nothing so messy as language can yield new possibilities—like the darkened sun and the bleeding moon welcoming God’s new day? When communication is strained, should our tongues retreat from language in favor of silence?
I imagine someone muttered to themselves on the day of Pentecost: “This is too many tongues, too much fire, too many languages, too much noise.” But who is God, if not the One with too many miracles still unfolding?
Prayer: I prefer to understand it all, O God. Thank heavens the Holy Spirit continues to interrupt and confuse me with new miracles.
cross-posted with the Daily Devotional (ucc.org)
O People, Hope!
O people, hope in the Holy One in whom there is steadfastness and with whom there is healing! Blessed be the One whose heart is attentive to pain with compassion and accountability. Blessed be the One from whom nothing is hidden, though we create our own shadows....
Where Are You?
Why should the nations say, “Where is their God?” Our God is in the heavens; God does whatever God pleases. … The heavens are the Lord’s heavens, but the earth has been given to human beings. - Psalm 115:2-3 & 16 (NRSV) Parenting college students is an interesting...
Shepherded
We want, O Shepherd -- how much we want! To be esteemed, to be secure, to be carefree, and we hoard to fill our insatiable egos. Feed us with the unlimited harvest of love, in all and through all and for all. We are tired, O Shepherd. Let us lie down, guard us as we...
At the Table
You make me lie down in green pastures; you lead me beside still waters. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. - Psalm 23:2 & 5 (NRSV) Green pastures aren’t hard to come by when you grow up in...
Protest (A Psalm)
The Holy One has been rejected so that routine might not be disrupted. Cry out, O Brokenhearted! The Holy One has suffered so that the murderer might walk free. Cry out, O Brokenbodied! Raise your lament, all you who are witnesses. Do not hold back your rage before...
Heart and Soul
Here is my heart, O Holy Life: ancient with the dust of stars, new as the day I was born. What use can it possibly have if it beats only for itself? Here is my soul, O Mystery: reluctantly tethered to flesh, marked with scars and calluses. Who else can recognize it...
Sunset
Light runs out before love is finished -- some days, I think, even before love begins -- and the horizon blazes with the angry grief of time we wish we'd had, moments we missed, stories we didn't begin to write together or could've written differently if the sun had...
Easter Feast
Who will break the fast? Joyful Jesus, how dare we continue to feed upon scarcity when there is a rich feast spread over endless banquet tables so that all who are hungry may know peace? We raise a glass to you -- Holy Abundance, Open Invitation, Broken Bread....
Harrowed
I'm not interested in your pain having purpose, my Friend, only in the space to grieve what has been done to you. Let no one call these harrowing days a hallowing. The broken flesh is not a fruit to harvest. The tortured earth is not a fortune to reap. The spilled...
