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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)
Faith-in-Flesh
Evil is well worth our anger, our outrage, our fury, our deep indignation. Violence too is a worthy recipient of our defensiveness, our horror, our disquiet, even our fear. To rage against the injustices of the world is an appropriate response of Christian faith.
And yet…
Carrying all that rage and fear around on our shoulders as if they are the yoke of Jesus is not faithful living. Holding anger tightly within our bodies—in a knot in our backs, in the tension of our hips, in the shallowness of our breath—is not a spiritual practice. Allowing fear to establish a residence in our guts, hunching our shoulders permanently forward to guard our hearts, fatiguing our minds with the obsession of resentment—these are not the disciplines to which Christ calls us.
If we were called to a faith of rage, we would be followers of Peter with his sword swinging wildly in the Garden of Gethsemane.
If we were called to a faith of fear, we would be adherents in the church of Ananias and Sapphira with their hands clenched tightly around security and their hearts racing with anxiety.
If we were called to a faith of self-righteousness, we would be siblings to the sons of Zebedee in our clamor for seats of judgment and control.
And if we were called to a faith of stiff necks and tense backs, we would be known by the sign of a millstone rather than the sign of the cross, weighed down by worry, tripping over our own doubt.
Instead…
We are called to a faith of radical love and abundant life. We are called to displace the bitter anger from our bodies with a strong backbone of love, the kind of loving backbone that moves easily to make room and holds steady to protect joy. We are called to exhale fear from our guts, to breathe in the expansiveness of hope. We are called to throw off the burden of anxiety from our shoulders, so that we have room to bear the light yoke of Christ.
Anger and fear and heartache have their place in faith—God knows!—but when they sink their roots into our bodies, psyches, and nervous systems, we are hindered from faith. So we choose to love from our physical core, trading fear for community. We love from our hips and our backs, releasing resentment in favor of hope. We love with our whole bodies, because Christ did too. We love, and God is known.
cross-posted with Witness for Justice (a ucc.org publication)
In the Wee Small Hours
On that day when the Lord gave the Amorites over to the Israelites, Joshua spoke to the Lord; and he said in the sight of Israel, “Sun, stand still at Gibeon; and Moon, in the valley of Aijalon.” And the sun stood still, and the moon stopped, until the nation took...
As Far as the Western Sea
Not me, O Life, but us. Not mine, O Life, but ours. As far as the eastern horizon, as far as the western sea, all that is and all that can be. Not us or them, O Life, but every. Not us or theirs, O Life, but all's. From the first wisp of dust to its final sighing...
Bargaining
You have said to me, "Come," but you have left me to wander in search of your desired "where." You have named me, "Blessed," but you have been unrelenting with every trial on my life. You have said to me, "Be still and know," but you have covered the eyes of my heart...
At the Altar
deep breath roll your stiff neck: right, slowly left, slowly right, slowly left, slowly deep breath listen: you are god's testimony, a sign of god's repentance deep breath pause from your race-of-a-journey: curl your toes, slowly flex your toes, slowly turn your face...
Thunder and Lightning
Spare us, Most Holy One, from the rolling thunder of your voice as it quakes our weary souls and sends us scurrying for lesser comforts. Let our comforts not be secondary gods, false idols, exploitation or cruelty or jealousy or lies. Spare us, Most Holy One, from the...
Dear God: Do Better
During the day when I’m in trouble I look for my Lord. At night my hands are still outstretched and don’t grow numb; my whole being refuses to be comforted. I remember God and I moan. I complain, and my spirit grows tired. - Psalm 77:2-3 (CEB) There are houseplants at...
New Songs
Praise the Lord! Sing to the Lord a new song, God’s praise in the assembly of the faithful. - Psalm 149:1 (NRSV) I used to sing. Not shower singing or holler-in-the-car singing or hum-to-myself singing, all of which I still do. But once upon a time, I sang in trained,...
Here I Am
Here I am: lost in the wilderness, chasing sheep and rabbit holes, out of touch with my own spirit and being, but here I am -- wherever "here" is. Here I am: unsettled and uncertain, overwhelmed by grief and setback, desperate for meaning from burning bushes, but here...
Ready for a Miracle
Then Moses said, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.” - Exodus 3:3 (NRSV) If summer is your favorite season of the year, you might want to cover your ears while I say this: Hints of autumn are beginning to appear....
