Isaiah 58

Will my daffodil bulbs overcome their trauma and rise up despite the odds? Will we?

Will my daffodil bulbs overcome their trauma and rise up despite the odds? Will we?

Mardi Gras sounds more fun.

Mardi Gras sounds more fun.

Ritual and justice don’t exist in a push-pull relationship.

Ritual and justice don’t exist in a push-pull relationship.

Putting flesh on the bones of justice

Isaiah’s two challenges go hand in hand.

Isaiah’s two challenges go hand in hand.

So much of human religiosity comes down to a hoax we perpetrate on God.

So much of human religiosity comes down to a hoax we perpetrate on God.

The prescription for the persistent malady of God’s people

Isaiah 58:1–12; 1 Corinthians 2:1–12; Matthew 5:13–20

"Remember the sabbath" is a costly commandment. Our culture’s assault on it extends far beyond Sunday.

People are rightly disgusted by buildings with separate entrances for low-income residents. But churches have side-door people, too.

A particular verse of scripture has been haunting me lately. I hear it as an indictment of an aspect of my personal life.

First, it was a lectionary text in Epiphany. Then I found it in the unifying passage of a devotional book I read.

“Bring the homeless poor into your house,” we read in Isaiah 58:7, part of a passage on genuine fasting.

Most of us do not take criticism well. We get defensive, make excuses, or blame others. Nor do we engage in much self reflection or acknowledgement of our personal failings.

A lot of churches have deleted the prayer of confession from their Sunday morning orders of worship because of complaints that “those prayers are too depressing,” or “those things don’t apply to me.”

It’s not quite Lent, but we can see it from here.

Sustainable Lenten disciplines anticipate an Easter in which they will continue. But surely Easter hope is for something more.

Isaiah gives voice to God. God is amazed at our epistemic closure.