Sunday’s Coming

The passage from Micah raises some important theological questions related to God's revelation. Micah is clear that focusing solely on our well-being and declaring war on the poor will lead to a cessation of revelation and vision.

The words of Proverbs 29:18--"where there is no vision, the people perish" (KJV)--seem appropriate for reflections on Moses's vision of the promised land.

In my state of South Carolina, we have a long history of not wanting anybody to tell us what to do with our land, our possessions, or our money. This has created a sense of fierce independence, as history bears out.

Preachers and teachers are really missing those summer days when we got to preach on wonderful parables about mustard seeds and loaves of yeast bread. Now it's judgment-parable season, and many of us wish we were on vacation.

Texts about "striving" make me itch. They bring to mind our own cultural commitments to speak about lifting ourselves by our own bootstraps to reach high goals.

As pastors, we spend a great deal of time sharing in the ongoing lives and adventures of our congregants and community members. We are also called, literally, to come to love and suffer with them when disappointments, disasters or deaths occur.

Of the texts appointed for Sunday, the tenth anniversary of what we now simply call 9/11, the Old Testament reading seems most capable of responding to the range of emotions we may feel as we remember the atrocities of that day.

The early church fathers had a saying: "The best bishop is a bad bishop." In other words, we sometimes grow more through adversity than we do by encouragement and supportive spiritual direction.

God sent Moses on a mission to rescue his people from oppression. He was asked to risk his life in a costly but exciting adventure--a mission of compassion and justice on behalf of a million other people.

I'm intrigued by the public radio program This I Believe. How often are we asked direct questions about what we believe? And what would you or I say when asked by Jesus, "Who do you say that I am?"

Matthew invites us into a whole variety of experiences this Sunday. Verses 10 through 20, considered optional, center around a conflict about tradition and authority followed by a parable about the truth of the actions of the heart. This is followed by healings and feedings. The next chapter begins with more conflict.

The lectionary reading from Matthew's Gospel is the story of Jesus walking on the Sea of Galilee in the midst of a storm. In a couple of decades, anyone will be able to cross the Sea of Galilee on foot because of climate change.

Recently, I learned that a young couple I know had filed for divorce after 18 months of marriage. By my calculations, they spent more time planning the wedding than being married.

Those of us who no longer live in oral cultures may have lost respect for storytelling as a vehicle of moral authority. Just give us the facts, ma'am. We're data people, and we like it in writing. For us the parabolic arts may be fine entertainment, but they're an unnecessarily messy way of getting at the truth.

The dream of a ladder linking earth to heaven is surely among the most familiar images of biblical literature. From "We are Climbing Jacob's Ladder" to "Stairway to Heaven," the idea has been deeply embedded in our collective consciousness.

At this year's great Vigil of Easter, our congregation welcomed four new adult members: three women and one of their husbands.

Before his questioning of the doctrine of hell sparked such a (ahem) firestorm, Rob Bell wrote in Velvet Elvis a chapter about yokes.

Violence. Danger. Fear. Trust. Betrayal. Salvation. Ethics. They're all invoked in the story of the binding of Isaac. Here are a couple different points of entry into this difficult passage.

In my church we've been exploring the idea that God is fully present in each person of the Trinity. Recently our focus has been on the Holy Spirit. On Trinity Sunday, a week after Pentecost, it might be fruitful to consider the implications of this full presence of God in the Spirit.