Spiritual Hiccups - O Lord, It's Hard To Be Humble

"Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven."

Over the years, there have been countless suggestions concerning what it means to "become like children," as Jesus says we must do.  The innocence of children is sometimes suggested, although anyone who has ever raised a child might say that the illusion of such innocence is hard to maintain past infancy.  It seems likely that childhood in Jesus' day was understood far differently than in ours, and this likely makes for additional difficulty in understanding what Jesus asks of us.

Jesus does offer us a clue when he adds, "humble like this child."  But of course humility is not much admired in our world, in children or adults.  We learn at an early age that we must draw attention to ourselves if we're going to get ahead.  There are books and seminars that tell you how to make your résumé stand out or how to make sure your college application gets noticed amidst all the others.

But Jesus seems to think that children are humble, and I suspect they were much more so in that day.  Children in First Century Palestine had no power.  They were totally dependent on parents.  They had no disposable income.  Very often their worth was understood more in terms of potential than intrinsic. Such a status might make me humble, too.

The English word "humble" comes from the same Latin root as humus, referring to earth or soil.  I suppose this has connotations of lowliness, but it also speaks of the earthiness that is part of our created nature.  We don't need the Bible to tell us that we are dust and we shall return to dust.  But for the gift of life, we are simply organic material, humus.

But God has made us but a little lower than angels, says Psalm 8.  God has given us amazing gifts and abilities, and those who realize how dependent they are on God for these understand something about humility.  And they tend to deflect attention from self and toward God.  Who we are "in Christ" becomes more important than who we are on our own, and our lives point beyond ourselves to Jesus.

This requires a fundamental shift for many of us.  We are so used to saying, "Look at me; look at me!"  It is so difficult to speak as John the Baptist does of Jesus when he says, "He must increase, but I must decrease."

Humility is not about being a doormat for others.  Jesus speaks of himself as humble, and his power and authority are obvious, even to his opponents.  But in his ministry, Jesus always points people beyond himself to the Father.  The earthly, human Jesus is totally focused on God's will rather than his own.

That is often very difficult for me, just as it is difficult for me to trust Jesus when he says, "Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life more my sake will find it."  Can that really be true?  Can losing my life in Christ truly heal me and make me whole?  Jesus, give me the confidence and faith to know it is so, and live in ways that reveal you to the world.

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Spiritual Hiccups - Getting It Right

This Sunday in worship, we will celebrate Christ the King, and we will also ordain and install elders and deacons to lead the ministry, mission, and spiritual life of our congregation.  As we do so, they will respond to a number of "constitutional questions," including one that asks, "Do you promise to further the peace, unity, and purity of the church?"

Over the years I have had prospective elders or deacons express concern about some of the other questions they will answer.  But I've never heard anyone express any reservations about this question.  Who wouldn't want the church to be more peaceful, unified, and pure?  Who wouldn't want a congregation to look less like the broken world we live in and more like the community God calls us to be?

But in practice, this question may be the most difficult one to live into.  This difficulty arises because seeking peace often sacrifices purity, seeking purity often throws out unity, and so on.

In today's reading from Ezra, the focus is very much on purity.  Ezra has condemned Israel for marrying foreign wives, for incurring guilt before God by marrying those whose religious practices are "abominations" and so polluting the purity of the faith.  Ezra has the commandments on his side as he chastises the people, leading them to "send away all these wives and their children."  In a day when women were totally dependent on men for protection and provision, this may well have been a death sentence to many of these mothers and children.  But in the name of purity...

Interestingly, the Old Testament contains another book where one of these foreign wives is lifted up as a paragon of virtue and faith.  Ruth, who like Ezra has a short biblical book named for her, is a foreign wife who is celebrated and who is great-grandmother to King David.  Even more interesting, some scholars think the book of Ruth was written in the same period when Ezra was encouraging the sending away of such women.

We people of faith often worry a great deal about getting the rules correct.  My own denomination's decades long wrangling over whether or not to ordain gays and lesbians is a good case in point.  For people on both sides, this issue became the purity line in the sand, a line of such importance that it justified sacrificing peace and unity.

I sometimes wonder about my denomination's (and my own) desire to read Scripture carefully in order to construct a clear theology that covers all the bases.  Don't get me wrong, I do think that deducing some sort of theology is necessary and even unavoidable.  All people have some sort of theology, some notion of what God is like and what difference that makes for their lives.  But it seems to me that any biblical theology has to leave room for a fair amount of ambiguity and tension.  "Getting it right" cannot become the god we serve.  Even Jesus, speaking in today's gospel reading, tells Peter that he does not owe the temple tax, that he is free of its requirement.  Yet he also tells Peter to procure the coin for the tax and pay it, "so that we do not give offense to them."

It very often seems to me that the Presbyterian passion for theology tends to squeeze out the Spirit. We prefer clear conclusions and guidelines, well crafted order, over the wind of the Spirit "that blows where it chooses."

And so I really like that ordination question which insists that getting it right means furthering "the peace, unity, and purity of the church."  Not one of them, but all of them.  Seems that getting it right often means balancing somewhat contradictory calls and living faithfully within that tension and ambiguity. 

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Spiritual Hiccups - Save Us!

It has been interesting - sometimes even comical - watching the ever changing polls on the Republican presidential front runner.  Romney, to many the presumed, eventual winner, tends to stay near the top, but others take their turn surging to favorite status and then falling into disfavor.  Newt Gingrich is now on his second ride toward the top, having previously crashed, burned, and been given up for dead by many.

I suppose that much of this is simply the normal political process.  A fresh face catches people's attention and generates excitement, but then the person's flaws and liabilities become more evident, and he or she falls from grace.  But I also think something else is at work.  We want someone to save us.  We want someone to fix things and make them right.  We're looking for a savior, but of course no one can live up to such expectations.

Whether the savior we embrace promises to take back America or restore hope, whether they are Republican, Democratic, or Libertarian, they end up disappointing us to some degree.  President Obama's campaign has already acknowledged that they do not expect to energize students they way they did in 2008.  Too many have become disenchanted with their savior.

Do not put your trust in princes,
     in mortals, in whom there is no help.
When their breath departs, they return to the earth;
     on that very day their plans perish.
Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob,
     whose hope is in the LORD their God. 

We live in difficult times, and we want someone to save us.   Very often it seems we want someone to save us from ourselves.  We want someone who promises to fix things without it costing us anything, goring our ox, or requiring hard work and sacrifice from us.  Others need to provide that.

Sometimes I think that we put our trust in candidates because putting our trust in God means following Jesus.  It means becoming different from what we are now, being transformed so that we look and act more and more like Jesus.  That looks too much like work.  Surely there is another solution.  Surely there is an ideology that will solve everything.  Surely enough money and things will make life good.  Surely making sure all of my needs are met will make me feel complete.  Surely there is some answer that doesn't ask me to change.

Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob, who have discovered new life by letting go of the old life and becoming new beings in Christ.


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Sermon video - Hearts on Fire

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Spiritual Hiccups - Mountaintop Experience

If you're the religious or spiritual sort, you likely cherish mountaintop experiences.  I know I do.  Those moments when God's presence is vivid and God's will for me clear are touchstones in my faith walk.  Recalling them sometimes can keep me going in those all too frequent times when God's presence is less vivid and God's will less clear.  And sometimes I would like to reconnect to such moments, especially if I'm in something of a spiritual dry spell.

Such a desire is natural, but it can have its pitfalls.  It can long for religious/spiritual experience for the sake of that experience.  I take it that Peter's desire to memorialize the mountaintop experience reported in today's gospel is something along those lines, plans for a physical connection to that moment that would allow him to reconnect with the unbelievable vision he has just seen.  But his plans are interrupted by the divine voice which commands Peter (and us?), "Listen to him!" that is to Jesus.

And so I find myself reflecting on the place of religious experience this morning.  I cannot imagine a faith of much consequence without some such experience.  But I also have met a few people who seem to be addicted to such experiences, who spend much of their time cultivating them.  (Some of the more negative stereotypes about "spirituality" are related to such folks.

In his devotion for today, Father Richard Rohr says this.  "When you see people going to church and becoming smaller instead of larger, you have every reason to question whether the practices, sermons, sacraments, or liturgies are opening them to an authentic God experience."  I suspect the same can be said of attempts to cultivate religious experience simply for its own sake.  Such experience is meant to enlarge us so that we go deeper into relationship with God as well as with those around us.

Sometimes I just want my "God fix."  Thankfully, Jesus usually finds a way to draw me out of such self centered spirituality.  Jesus, help me listen for your voice, calling me to my vocation in the valley.

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Sermon audio - Hearts on Fire

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Sermon text - Hearts on Fire

Matthew 25:14-30

Hearts on Fire

James Sledge                                     November 13, 2011

For most of my life I have thought of banks as some of the more conservative institutions around.  By conservative I don’t mean politically conservative.  Rather I’m using a more basic definition of preserving and conserving what exists.  This sort of conservatism makes changes only after very careful consideration.  The default decision is the tried and true, what has worked well in the past.  This sort of conservatism has little use for the novel, and it does not take unnecessary risk.

To me, banks and bankers epitomized this sort of thinking.  At least they did until the financial collapse of 2008.  When the financial markets tumbled a few years ago, we discovered that those staid bankers had abandoned their traditional conservatism.  Far from fearing the novel, they had embraced all sorts of creative and innovative investment vehicles.  There seemed to be no worries that some of the more exotic, mortgage-based investments could fail.  People acted as though big profits were simply guaranteed.  But then it all came tumbling down.

But if the image of bankers as cautious, prudent, careful, and risk-averse folks disappeared in that 2008 economic collapse, another group still has its cautious, conservative, careful image fully intact; the typical Mainline church congregation. 

We don’t reject all innovation and novelty.  We have a somewhat contemporary worship service here, after all.  But of course traditional Presbyterian congregations generally didn’t adopt such services until they had been a huge success for many years in other, non-traditional congregations.

I let The Presbyterian Hymnal plop open in my lap.  I flipped through a few pages, seeing more dates from the 1600s, 1700s, and 1800s than from 1900s, the century in which that hymnal was published.  And the couple of hymns I saw from the 1900’s were set to hymn tunes from earlier centuries.  This is not necessarily a criticism or a complaint.  There were some wonderful hymns on those pages.  And our economy would probably be in much better shape right now if bankers had retained a bit more of this sort of conservatism seen reflected in our hymnal, the conserving of what exists, changing it only after careful consideration.

Issues of caution, prudence, careful and risk-averse investing are on display in our gospel reading this morning as well.  A master is about to leave for an extended time, and so he turns over his investments to several of his slaves.  Perhaps this spreading around of his portfolio was his idea of diversification. 

There is a tendency to flatten parables and miss their many facets, reducing them to fables with a simple message.  In the case of this parable, that often becomes, “Use your talents wisely.”  But such a “moral of the story” ignores much in the parable.  For example, the third slave is called “wicked and lazy” by his master, an assessment often accepted without question.  But that master does not refute the slave’s assessment that he is “a harsh man, reaping where (he) did not sow.”

Other, perhaps more illuminating facets of the parable relate to the wealth entrusted to each slave and the huge returns earned by the first two compared with the simple preserving of the principle by the third slave.  Here, the term talent sometimes gets in the way, as does our unfamiliarity with the financial options available in Jesus’s day.

For the first hearers of the parable, a talent was a large sum of money, and nothing more.  In fact it was equal to fifteen or twenty years wages for a laborer.  And those first hearers had never seen a local Savings and Loans or bank as we know them.  There were money changers where you could invest money, but there were no regulations or government guarantees.  The only really safe thing to do with money in those days was to hide it.

Perhaps it would help if we updated a few elements in the parable.  We could change it so that the CEO of a large investment firm has decided to take an extended vacation.  And so he summoned several of his money managers and told them to take care of his portfolio.  To one he gave 10 million dollars, to another he gave 5 million, and to a third, 1 million.  The first manager wheeled and dealed and made another 10 million.  The second did much the same, doubling his portion.  But the third manager didn’t have all that much to play with, and so he opted to put it into a very secure, interest-bearing money market account. 

Or look at it another way.  Think about what you would do if it was your money.  Would you have taken the more risky investments, or would you have played it safe?

This parable has so many facets, I’m not always sure where to focus my attention.  On the one hand, the freedom and abandon that allowed those first two slaves to make risky investments and double what was entrusted to them has a powerful attraction.  What was it that let them act as they did?

But the parable itself spends much of its time with the third slave, the one who did the prudent and cautious thing.  Since the parable focuses so much on him, I suppose I should at least wonder what it was about him that makes him the bad guy in the story, even though he did exactly what many prudent people of Jesus’ day likely would have done.

“Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid, and I went and hid your money in the ground.”

“So I was afraid.”  Seems to me that religion often has a great deal of fear in it.  “Do you want to burn in hell?”  Even the much friendlier, “Do you want to be saved?” carries with it implied fear.  What happens if you’re not?  And denominations’ and churches’ hard fought efforts and battles to get our theology just right seems to have more than a little fear involved.  What might happen if we got it wrong?

The Bible says that “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,” but in this parable the fear of the master is the downfall of this slave.  By contrast, his two fellow slaves seem to have no fear at all.  They took some pretty serious risks, acting as though they could not fail.

Where in your life have you thrown caution to the wind and acted as if risk did not matter?  Where have you broken free from caution and prudence and risked it all?  Perhaps you once fell in love, or are in love now, and you did things or are doing things that would have seemed crazy and foolish before.  Maybe some passion once caught you and swept you up, and you threw yourself into it in a way you cannot imagine doing now.  Or perhaps you’re caught up in just such a passion right now.

Is it possible to fall in love with God, to be swept off your feet by Jesus so that you act with wild abandon, dance like no one is watching, and look foolish to those who do not understand such passion?  Is it possible for the pull of Jesus to grab you and overpower you, draw you in so that you act in ways you never knew were possible?

Is that possible, Jesus?  We are here, Jesus.  We are waiting.  Will you come into our hearts and set them on fire?  We are here, Jesus.  We are waiting.  Come to us. 

Spiritual Hiccups - Signs of the Times

Jesus clearly upset a lot of people during his earthly ministry.  If Jesus had just sat around and taught a handful of followers some timeless spiritual truths, no one would have felt the need to get rid of him, to kill him.  But Jesus troubled people.  His talk of a coming kingdom could not help but catch the attention of the Romans.  Alternate kings and kingdoms were not tolerated by Rome.  And Jesus' words of good new to the poor and oppressed also threatened the economic system on which Rome rested.

But Jesus also seems to have been a religious threat to some of his fellow Jews.  Jesus remained a faithful Jew his entire life.  He went to synagogue and made a pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem.  Yet the established religious institutions were bothered by him.  Whether it was priestly Judaism that had closely aligned itself with Roman power, or synagogue Judaism, Jesus posed a problem.

It is interesting to speculate on whether or not Jesus had any intention of starting a new religion.  I think not.  In a manner not completely different from Martin Luther unintentionally starting the Reformation, Jesus came to call his people into a fuller experience of God's presence, and into a life shaped by God's coming dominion.  But established religious institutions found that a threat to patterns of life that had become treasured, deeply ingrained, and presumed to be integral parts of a life of faith.

A fundamental problem with religion is that, over time, it is inclined to replace faith in God with faith in its teachings about and methods connected to God.  Its traditions and habits become holy, and they are worshiped.  This holiness makes it difficult, even impossible, to toss habits and traditions even when they no longer are appropriate, when they no longer fit the times.

Jesus accuses the Pharisees of being unable to "interpret the signs of the times," perhaps words somewhat akin to Bob Dylan's once insisting that "the times they are a changing."  And I wonder if we are any better at reading the signs of the times now that religious folks were in Jesus' day.

It has become the religious mantra of a generation.  "I'm spiritual but not religious."  Sometimes this is nothing but a cop out, a narcissism that acknowledges a desire for God but has no interest in dealing with the messiness inherent in all communities.  It wants God without neighbor.  It wants God divorced from bodies and the incarnation.

But this mantra can also be an indictment of a Church that has lost its way.  It can be the sincere statement of those who long for God, but are unable to find God at Church.  They find traditions and practices that are related to God.  They find lots of information about God.  But God seems to be missing.

I believe that when we in the Church dismiss all those who are spiritual but not religious, lumping them altogether in the camp of individualistic narcissists, we misread the signs of the times.  And we miss the Spirit speaking to us, calling us to refocus our faith life on Christ's living presence with us.  We ignore the Spirit seeking to transform us into new creations, those who have died to old lives and false selves, and have discovered new life in Christ.

Jesus says that for the new to be born the old must give way.  "Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit."  Interpreting the signs of the times requires discerning what needs to die so that something more wonderful can be born.  And unless we think our congregations and our world have fully embodied God's coming Kingdom, there is still much to come, and so still much that must die. 

Jesus, help me be among those who can read the signs of the times.

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Spiritual Hiccups - When They Cry

God gives to the animals their food,
   and to the young ravens when they cry.

Psalm 147:9

Both my church upbringing and my seminary training shaped me to look at Scripture in a certain way.  And while this way highly esteems the Bible, even treating it as God's self revelation, it often acts as though God's revelation were a fixed thing embedded in the text.  Handled this way, once you have figured out what a Scripture passage says and means, you "know" it.  I and other pastors sometimes lament when certain readings show up in the Sunday lectionary for preaching.  "What more is there to say on this?" we ask.

In more recent years, I have been introduced to different ways of approaching Scripture, things such as lectio divina.  This spiritual or holy reading of a Bible text is less interested in understanding what the text "means" and more focused on praying Scripture.  Part of this involves reading in a contemplative pose, paying attention to words or phrases in a text that stick out or claim your attention.  These words or phrases may or may not have much to do with "the meaning of the text," but they may be the way God speaks to you.

I won't claim to be terribly good at this practice.  (My long proficiency with the sort of reading practiced at seminary often gets in the way.)  But I still find that I often experience God much more directly in lectio divina than in more formal ways of reading Scripture.  

Reading Psalm 147 today, I found myself drawn to the last portion of the verse shown above, "when they cry."  For all I know the author of this psalm included this line simply to make the poetry work.  It may have had no particular significance beyond that, but still I found myself drawn to the line, captured by it in some way... when they cry.

I sometimes cry to God, but usually only when I've gotten pretty frustrated, only when things are going the way I think they should.  When I have done my best and not gotten the expected results, I will sometimes cry to God, but that seems to me totally different from what I envision those young ravens doing.

When young ravens cry, and for that matter when human infants cry, there is a profound dependence on those who hear the cry.  But as adults, we learn to take care of ourselves.  God is like the hammer for breaking the glass on some old fire alarms, to be used only in emergencies.  

Babies and young ravens seem to be born knowing that crying works.  Maybe that part of the reason Jesus says we must become like little children to enter the kingdom of heaven.

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Sermon video - The Kingdom Marathon

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Sermon audio - The Kingdom Marathon

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Sermon Text: The Kingdom Marathon

Matthew25:1-13

TheKingdom Marathon

JamesSledge                                      November6, 2011

Thenewscaster leads with a breaking local story. Jesus has announced plans to hold a “Kingdom of God Marathon.”  It will be a huge event for the community,something everyone can get behind, and a fundraiser for causes to end hungerand homelessness. 

Themayor and local celebrities were in attendance at the press conference whereJesus announced that the marathon was being planned for next year, exact dateyet to be determined.  The pressconference featured lots of cheering and excitement.  Everyone thought it was a wonderfulidea.  And as Jesus worked the crowdfollowing the official announcement, people told him so.  They pledged to help make it a big success,promising that they would run in it, publicize the event, or help set up aidstations along the route. 

Inthe days following the announcement, sales at sporting goods storessurged.  People were buying running shoesand other gear, books on how to train for a marathon, training calendars andsoftware programs, and just about anything connected to running.  The number of people running on the roads,sidewalks, and local trails skyrocketed. Local running clubs were overwhelmed with new members, and lots of newtraining groups formed. 

Butas days turned to weeks and weeks to months, the excitement and energywaned.  Those running clubs and traininggroups dwindled in number, and the trails and sidewalks had far fewer runnerson them.  Talk of the marathon faded aswell.  It’s difficult to publicizesomething when the exact date isn’t known, and it all but disappeared frompublic view.

Thensuddenly it was back in the news.  Jesusannounced that the first Kingdom of God Marathon would be held three weeks fromSaturday. 

A flurry of activityensued.  People dug out those runningshoes that had been gathering dust for months. But there simply is no way to get ready for a 26 mile run in threeweeks. 

Thebig day came and scores of runners gathered in the streets downtown.  When Jesus sounded the air horn the runnerssurged forward.  As the last of themcrossed the starting line, Jesus followed along in a golf cart. 

Itwasn’t long before runners began to fall by the wayside.  A mile or two was all some could manage.  As they began walking or stopped and sat onthe curb, Jesus cruised by in his golf cart. “Jesus, we so wanted to be a part of your big race,” they said as hepassed.  But Jesus just shrugged andsaid,  “You should have stayed in shape.”  And they watched as Jesus disappeared down the marathon course.

Afternearly five hours, the last of those who were actually running crossed thefinish line and went into a huge post-race celebration.  There was live music, massages for sore legs,the best food and drink to recharge after such a strenuous event, and awardsand trophies for all.  And the runnerswere soon feeling revived and having a wonderful time.

Asthe big post-race party went on, those who had tried to get ready in threeweeks trickled in to the finish line. Some couldn’t even walk the route and had found rides.  They were disappointed at not being able tofinish, but they didn’t want to miss out on the post-race festivities.  But they found the doors to the ConventionCenter where the party was going on locked tight.  People went around the building, checking allthe entrances, but there was no getting in. Finally, after banging loudly on the doors, they got the attention ofsomeone inside who went and found Jesus and brought him to the door.

“Jesus,let us into the party.  We were in therace.  See, we have our race numbers.  We paid our registration and everything.”

ButJesus simply said, “This a only for those who ran the race; not for those whoentered.”  And he turned and walked backto the party as security re-locked the door.

Nowdon’t take this story too seriously, certainly not literally.  After all, it’s a story, a parable if youwill.  I has rather obvious similaritiesto the parable Jesus tells in today’s gospel reading, but I felt moved to tellmy version because I think the Church has often encouraged us to misunderstandthe one Jesus tells.  When Jesus beginshis parable he makes clear what the parable is about.  “The kingdom of heaven will be likethis.”  As I’ve mentioned manytimes, this kingdom is not a synonym for heaven.  It is called the “kingdom of God” in thegospels of Luke and Mark, and it refers to a new day that God will bring, to aredeemed and transformed would where God’s will is done here on earth just asit is in heaven, as the prayer Jesus teaches us says. 

Butsomehow, Christianity seemed to forget this over the centuries.  This kingdom that will change the world hasbeen privatized and made a matter of personal piety.  I’ve even heard this parable preached as apressing reason for accepting Jesus as your Savior now rather than later.  “Yes, it’s true that a deathbed confessionwill get you into heaven,” the argument goes. “But you never know.  Things couldhappen so quickly that you wouldn’t have time. Then you would be like those bridesmaids with no oil for their lamps.”

Isuppose this could be true, but I’m pretty sure it’s not what Jesus is talkingabout.  Rather, this is a parable forbelievers, for insiders.  Jesus istalking about living a life that is oriented to God’s coming kingdom.  The wise bridesmaids are ready to participatein that kingdom.  They have preparedthemselves so that they do not have to change what they are doing, do not haveto make adjustments in order to be part of the banquet, the kingdom.

It’ssomething Jesus speaks of often.  He saysthe same thing in his Sermon on the Mount. “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom ofheaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.”  Jesus is not talking about whether ornot we believe in him, but whether or not we follow him, though I suppose notfollowing him does  seem to indicate thatwe don’t believe what he tells us to do.

Iread this recently on someone’s Facebook page. “A recent Gallup poll says that 81% of Americans are dissatisfied with howthe country is being governed; 57% have little or no confidence the federalgovernment can solve the nation's problems. So in 2012, will we still re-elect90+% of the incumbents as we normally seem to do?”

Aninteresting question.  I would not besurprised if we do.  We may bedissatisfied, but we’re not sure what new thing will help.  We want something better, but we’re notreally clear what that is or how to get it. And so we stick with what we know. 

We arecreatures of habit, and those habits define us. “We are,” as Aristotle said long ago, “what we repeatedly do.”  But Jesus calls us to new habits, transformedlives that are conformed to the habits of God’s new day, that new world hecalls the Kingdom.  But it is so different.  It sounds too hard, like getting ready for amarathon.  And so as much as we likeJesus, we struggle when it comes to actually getting up and following him onthis new way he shows us.  We “believe,”but we’re less certain about the habits of disciples.

ButJesus insists that the way he shows us is not too hard, that his yoke is easyand his burden is light.  He promisesthat the Spirit will more than equip us for the journey ahead. 

Butit is so easy just to stay where we are, and keep doing what we are doing,isn’t it?