Category Archives: Bible

A Chasm Has Been Fixed – Great. What’s a Chasm?

There are some strange words in the Bible. Actually, you can find a lot of them. I suppose a collection of books that spans thousands of years will deliver a handful unfamiliar terms.

Among the strange words: chasm.

I dare you to use this word in ordinary conversation today. No, I triple-dog dare you! First, what is this word?

Chasm appears but once in the Bible, referring to a gulf, or a great big separation. In Luke 17:26 it describes the empty space that stands between the rich man and Lazarus (the poor man) in the afterlife.

Can you imagine it?!! A monumental gulf between the rich and the poor? As if.

The rich man likes it not one bit. “Yo, Abraham,” he bellows from the fiery side of the chasm, as though Abraham is the bouncer. “Can you fix this chasm? Get me across?”

“Nope,” comes Abraham’s reply before reminding the rich man how he spent his life on earth ignoring Lazarus, stepping over his suffering body each day. The rich man’s control on earth did not accompany him into the afterlife.

On the news, I have seen this rich man. I have seen him cut programs that will primarily impact the poor and leave him and his ivy league cronies in the safety zone of wealth. I have seen him.

He has sent innocent immigrant families into a dangerously chaotic panic, even though these many (not all) of these families have improved my community with their hard work and dedication. I know this rich man.

The problem, as you well know, goes beyond the chasm between the rich and the poor. The more troublesome chasm in the United States runs between truth and baseless lies, between those who are loyal to President Trump and those who are less impressed with the past two months.

The real problem is not the chasm, but the fact that the chasm exists at all.

What is a chasm? It is the human presumption that “they” are wrong and “we” are right. No matter who is cast as “they” and “we”, the chasm is hugely problematic for the poor.

The gospel writer of Luke consistently points to the injustice of those who are left systemically poor. It is the unique spirit of this particular book. The writer concludes this chapter by insisting that not even a resurrection could fix the chasm that stands between the rich and the poor, which is a dismal forecast, yet more than 2,000 years later, seems correct.

Not even the resurrection of Christ reduced the gulf between the rich man and Lazarus. Not even religious wars or world wars or the invention of the internet. Not the expanse to the west or even into outer space fixed the chasm between those who have enough and those whose children will not survive past the age of one because their water is unclean.

Chasms are stubborn that way. Fed by the fertilizer of fear, the chasm between the rich and the poor, between versions of the truth, between political sides is not a far-away problem, but a here-and-now-problem.

  • How might the way that you speak of “them” and “us” affect the chasm? Who is listening and learning from your rhetoric?
  • Is there a news source you have not explored, a side of the coin you might explore in order to keep the chasm from expanding?
  • Name it. What are you afraid of as you stand on your side of the chasm? What is it about “them” that incites fear in you?

If the Bible teaches us anything, it is that hate and bitterness are not change agents. Only mercy engenders change.

Mercy. There’s a word. That word makes avalanches of appearances in the Bible. It is spoken and acted out repeatedly. Perhaps mercy could make more appearances among us today, beginning in our homes, on our devices, and among our next-door neighbors.

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“You do not understand,” said all kids ever, even Jesus, to their parents.

The age of 12 is magical. A handful of my favorite novels are written from the perspective of a person around the age of 12, including Because of Winn-Dixie and The Bartender’s Tale.

Age 12 is a tipping point. At 12, we wobble between life as a kid who plays with toys, and life as a teenager making sense of relationships and greater responsibility. Twelve years in, we begin to see a glimpse of a future independent from our family of origin. We may even look at our beloved parents and guardians who have known us from the very beginning and tell them, “You do not understand!”

That’s what Jesus did, anyway. (Luke 2:41-52) He looked at his parents, the people who were not much older than age 12 when they each met an angel to help them understand the son who was coming, and told them, “You do not understand.” (When I imagine Jesus speaking, he usually takes on an aloof, when-will-you-ever-get-it tone. What does Jesus sound like in your head?)

Mary and Joseph did not understand why their 12-year-old son suddenly disappeared from their family procession home from the Passover. They did not understand his ostensible disobedience, which turned out to be complete obedience to God.

On behalf of all parents ever, we do not always understand. Thank you, Mary and Joseph, for joining us in the humbling work of parenting!

Consider the 12-year-olds you know. You may assume to know them well because you have known them their entire lives. You may have had a front row seat as they learned to walk and talk. Perhaps you even had the privilege of encouraging them along the way.

But hold on here. If Mary and Joseph did not fully understand Jesus, that makes me wonder. Do I assume to know the 12-year-olds better than I do? I was 12 once, but it was quite a while ago and the world was different. Not better or worse, but different. I do not actually know what it’s like to be 12-years-old in 2025.

Is there someone in your life, maybe or maybe not a 12-year-old, whom you would like to get to know, even though you think you know them already? Staying interested in the people close to us may bring us closer together.

Here are some starter questions if you’d like to take that person out for ice cream.

  • What is the longest line you have ever waited in?
  • Would you rather go to the moon or to the South Pole?
  • What is one thing few people know about you?
  • What is something people often get wrong about you?
  • What is one new thing you would like to try this year?

You, beloved human, are profoundly interesting! And so are the people around you. We will never fully understand one another. Not Mary, Joseph, or any of us. And yet you are fully known by the Creator, whose son was so divine, and also so incredibly human.

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The God Who Trades

...to comfort all who mourn...to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning... (from Isaiah 61:2-3)

God is no good at trading. In this last section of Isaiah, God trades the hardship of the Israelites for renewed hope. “Let me carry your mourning,” God offers, “while you hold the gladness.”

What an uneven trade, Lord! Everyone knows mourning is heavier than gladness. And sins weigh more than forgiveness, another one of God’s uneven trades.

God is unfathomably generous. God’s ways do not align with our human, even-trading, fairness-focused, transactional look at life. We do not give this in order for God to do that. This is not a balanced relationship.

Which is nice.

When the dark winter days come with heavy human sadness, it is good to know that Christ will carry his share of the pain and yours. “Sit down, take a load off,” you hear Jesus whisper. “I will take care of things and when you are ready, you can follow me through the darkness. You are looking a bit broken today. I will gather the pieces and trade you for the peace only I can give you.”

Thank you, Lord, for uneven trades, a mark of your light-bearing grace.

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There is Crying in the Bible

There is no crying in baseball…although I would not mind if Yankee fans shed a few tears tonight. Otherwise, there is no crying in baseball, but there is indeed crying in the Bible.

Jesus cried in John 11 at the death of Lazarus. In the Greek, the word for weeping describes tears falling down Jesus’ face. He cried (a different Greek word) out to the Father to awaken Lazarus from the dead, and God the Father did. Other times, Jesus cried out to God for justice, or comfort. Some of his cries shed tears while other cries were heard and heeded by God the Father.

Jesus cried. It is what humans do. Overcome by joy or sorrow, our faces leak, as Bob Maloogalooga, one of my favorite movie characters observed. When the psalmist wrote that you are intricately made, perhaps he also had in mind the well of your emotions. Crying, Jesus taught us, is a human response to life.

Back in 1 Kings, there is crying. The prophet Elijah was sent to a widow. He asked her to help him and later he helped her. She had a young son who was ill to the point that “there was no breath left in him.” (1 Kings 17:17).

She blamed Elijah. “What have you against me, O man of God? You have come to bring my sin to remembrance, and to cause the death of my son!”

Elijah asked for the boy, laid him down and cried out to the Lord. “O Lord my God, have you brought calamity even upon the widow with whom I am staying, by killing her son?”

This reminds me of a prayer Will Willimon cried out to God. Just before entering a hospital room where a young boy was gravely ill, where despair held everyone captive, and hope was absent. He cried out to God, “Don’t you make me go in there and lie for you!”

Cries speak the depth of who we are. They pull from the corners of our most honest self, the corners we mostly leave untouched.

Cries connect you with the God who hears them, as both Elijah and Jesus show you. There is crying in the Bible. There is crying in life.

There is no cry that goes unheard by God, who became a human who cries, who tenderly gathers up your cries and holds them for you.

Even the potential cries of Yankee fans, God will hear them. At least I think so. Some things I do not know.

What prayer might you cry out to God?

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The Best Things in Life Are Free Croutons

I have found the new love of my life and its name is Croutons.

Long ago, I met Fake-Croutons at the bar, the salad bar, of course! They were tiny blocks I’m told had once been bread. We were not meant to be. They were too crunchy and made it a job to enjoy a salad. Goodbye, Fake-Croutons.

Then Croutons came along. My husband (the actual love of my life) has become a sourdough bread baker. He has become quite good at this craft, but even so we cannot eat all the bread, which turns out to be the best thing ever. I made my first batch of Croutons earlier this week. What’s not to love when you roll stale bread around in oil and seasoning? Bread, oil, salt, pepper, a dash of Italian Seasoning and there you have it. Love.

“The best things in life are free,” wrote Buddy DeSylva and Lew Brown back in 1927. Right now, one of the best delights in my life are these silly croutons. They took zero money and no more effort than slicing up and baking bread I didn’t know what to do with anyway.

There is an abundance of complicated factors in your life today. Relationships, work, your health, your family member’s health…What might happen if you look around your kitchen, your living room, your backyard, or your nearest park to find something simple and free like the new love of my life?

This verse has been rolling around in my brain, like breadcrumbs in oil. 

"The Lord will guide you continually, 
and satisfy your needs in parched places, 
and make your bones strong; 
and you shall be like a watered garden, 
like a spring of water, 
whose waters never fail." 
Isaiah 58:11


What you need, the Lord prescribes in this verse, is water. How simple. How free. All you need is water, a restoring powerhouse that for most of us is as easy as turning a faucet, which happens to be as easy as making your own croutons.

God desires meet you in the simplest of ways: water, bread, breath, the words in a very old book. Find your Crouton and smile.

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What is Good?

Today we recall the crucifixion of Jesus and call it Good Friday. What is good in this gruesome story? What is good about a death?

The good is this: There is no simple explanation for the death of God on the cross, but Love.

Here is what I mean. There is no uncomplicating the tangled up, prickly yet tender love of God. The unavoidable fact of Good Friday is that God had a rebellion on God’s hands, a rebellion against grace. God died for the rebels, died so that grace would be the last one standing in the rebellion.

There are many goofy theories around Good Friday which can all be confirmed on the internet. I just re-read the novel “Gilead.” Set in the 1950’s, the pastor noted how 40 years of ministry with a congregation can quickly be undone by one television preacher. And then, there is the internet!

  1. Atonement – This is the notion that Jesus had to die to satisfy God’s anger over our sins. Humanity was so terrible, according to this theory, and God was so mad about it, that the only way to avoid God’s wrath was to put Jesus to death, as though there was a deal between the Father and the Son. This is a trinitarian disaster.
  2. Substitution – This theory suggests Jesus stood in for us on the cross; although we are the sinners, Jesus took the nails for us. This wrathful view of God does not line up with the Gospels for sure, or with the God we meet in most of the Hebrew Scriptures. The God we meet there kept rescuing God’s people.

I suspect television/internet preachers are attracted to these kinds of simple answers to Jesus’ death. It is good, they might suggest, to make sense of the cross.

If only love were so simple.

Bring to mind a person or place or something you deeply love. Or recall a moment when you felt an overwhelming sense of love.

Was it witnessing a gorgeous act of creation – an unforgettable sunset, the Northern Lights, a stunning view of the ocean. Or the birth of a child, the wedding of a granddaughter, the last goodbye to your loved one who was dying. How do you squeeze any of those moments into words? You cannot. The grandeur of love, deep and sweeping love, defies description.

What is good on this Good Friday? The good is the inexplicable love of God for you. The good is Christ, delivering you on the cross from death as the end, who had more mercy for sinners than the world (our world) could handle. The good is God, who met our resistance to grace by embodying it. The good is God, whose love is good and whose grace is good.

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Follow Directions

Last week, Marcus taught Sam how to grill hamburgers. One step at a time, he guided Sam through the directions. It reminded me of the famous hamburger helper story in my family. I was the same age as Sam when one day I was asked to make dinner. It was the worst hamburger helper in the history of hamburger helper.

What could be hard about making hamburger helper, you wonder? Fair question. This dish involves only a few easy directions.

Nothing is hard about making hamburger helper, in fact.

What is hard is eating hamburger helper when the cook forgot one important direction: add water.

Directions matter.

The Palm Sunday reading for Sunday is from Mark 11:1-11. The story of Jesus’ procession into Jerusalem is told in each of the four gospels. Matthew’s gospel specifies both a colt and a donkey carrying Jesus. What? I don’t understand, either. Luke’s version leaves out the palms. John’s version is the shortest, barely mentioning the donkey’s colt. (Is that what Matthew meant? Who knows.)

And then there is Mark. Mark is the earliest of the gospels and typically the shortest. But this story is an exception. John’s gospel wins the most abbreviated storytelling award, while Mark slows everything down in Chapter 11.

In painstaking detail, the writer draws our attention to the directions. Jesus gives two of his disciples these (unusual to Mark) detailed instructions:

  1. Go to the village
  2. Find a colt that has never been ridden.
  3. Untie the colt.
  4. “Bring it.” This is hilarious to me. The other gospels finish the sentence, “Bring it to me.” But here in Mark’s gospel, Mark reverts to his hurried writing and doesn’t even finish Jesus’ sentence! I love it.
  5. Explain to anyone around that Jesus needs the colt and will bring it back.

The latter part of Step Five is the thread I’m pulling for the sermon on Sunday.

Aren’t these directions remarkable! For a gospel writer whose most worn-out word is “immediately,” these are thorough instructions.

Digging around in the Scriptures, you find a treasure trove of directions.

  • Eat, drink and be merry.
  • Welcome the stranger.
  • Remember the Sabbath.
  • Love the Lord your God.
  • Love your neighbor as yourself.

And on and on and on. But the directions for the two disciples – how to acquire the colt for Jesus: “bring it.”

Directions matter. The colt made the point that Jesus was a strange sort of royalty. He was a king born in a manger whose baby gifts were essentially burial anointments. This is no ordinary king, proven by the donkey colt who served as lowly transportation. Kings rode regal horses, not donkeys.

The two disciples nailed the directions. They could have been in charge of the hamburger helper and we would have all eaten better that night. Leading up to the procession, had they left out any one of the instructions, the story would be different. Had they not untied the colt, for example, or not explained themselves to bystanders. This may have been a different story.

What does it mean that Mark puts Chapter 11:1-11 into slow motion? What might God stir up in you if you take your time through these verses? (Those are your directions. Oh, and remember your baptism – add water.)

As Yourself

“Which commandment is the first of all?” Jesus answered, “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.‘ There is no other commandment greater than these.”

Mark 12:28b-31

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been in a wrestling match with Jesus’ two words: “as yourself.” How would this verse sound if these two words were dropped and Jesus’ instruction was simply to love your neighbor? What is Jesus up to by shaping your love for others based on how you love your own self?

So…how do you love your own self? What does it look like to love yourself?

  • Do you forgive yourself? Or do you replay that mistake you made so long ago?
  • Do you beat yourself up emotionally if you make a mistake? A mistake with your family or at work? Are you kinder to others than you are to yourself?
  • How do you look at your body? Do you recognize its beauty or do you regularly wish you could trade it in for a different model?

How do you love yourself?

If you dig around Jesus’ words here in Mark 12, you quickly discover he is not saying anything new. In fact, his words are among the most ancient of words. First, he quotes the Jewish Shema in Deuteronomy 6:4-5, the most important commandment of the Jewish faith: “Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” This is a helpful reminder that Jesus was not Christian, he was 100% Jewish. This Jewish command shaped his entire life.

Then, Jesus goes even further back to Leviticus 19:18b. Leviticus 19 is a how-to for loving your neighbor. Before and after this command are rules against slandering your neighbor, what to do if you impregnate your slave, instructions to love the elderly, and a command to love the immigrant. Tucked into a chapter outlining rituals and morality is God’s command, “…you shall love your neighbor as yourself…”

Now the question is not, why did Jesus add the two words ‘as yourself,’ but why did God add them? Why does God’s guide for loving your neighbor demand that you look not only outward but also inward?

Perhaps because loving your neighbor and loving yourself are inextricable. You cannot love your neighbor without also loving yourself. Let’s think of some examples.

  1. If you give yourself away again and again by doing service for your neighbor, but do not take care of your own body in the meantime, you will get resentful, worn down and even sick.
  2. If you care for the needs of your neighbor without ever recognizing your own social and emotional needs, your care for your neighbor may become shallow.
  3. If your main purpose in life becomes caring for the needs of others by ignoring your own needs, your co-dependency will drive others away, or debilitate the person you think you are helping.

In a nutshell, nothing good comes of loving your neighbor without loving yourself. Those two words, “as yourself”, cannot be removed from the equation of how to love your neighbor. How you love yourself matters for your neighbor!

  1. If you step back from the hustle of caring for everyone else, you might notice you have more genuine love for your neighbor if you rest.
  2. If you pay attention to your feelings, you may notice your helpfulness might be for show, and not out of sincere love for your neighbor.
  3. If you slow down, you might realize the people you are helping may not want so much help! How might not-helping actually be more helpful? This is tough news for moms, I know!

As yourself.

You, beloved one, matter enormously to the Creator. Take a breath and notice. Loving yourself is of great service to your neighbor.

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Fear, Community and the Church’s Voice

Recently at a conference, my colleague shared her experience moving to a new community. As a pastor, she knew her community well – not only the people, but practical things like the clinic phone number, her dentist, the way around the grocery store. When she moved, she explained, she felt like she knew nothing. Nothing at all! Well, she went on, she did know things. But what she knew no longer applied.

Communities are unique. Like families, communities have a dynamic. The size of the community is irrelevant. Small towns or large towns can be connected or disconnected. Urban areas or rural can be progressive or resistant to progress. Medium-sized cities or big cities can be fun and exciting or dull. I’ve lived in a very small town, a big city, a really big city, a suburb and a large town/small city, where I’ve lived now for nearly 17 years.

Yesterday, my city approved a bond to renovate and expand the public high school (particularly to replace the 1960’s original boiler which has broken down and requires parts that are now obsolete) and enhance security in the city’s public elementary schools. Perhaps because my role with a Congregation Council is to steward an old property for generations to come, I am confused why this was a difficult question in our community. Would you replace the boiler in your own home if the people who built the boiler explained they can no longer repair it?

I’ve reflected on the uniqueness of my community, which is impacted by the not-so-unique toxic presence of fear. There was fear that passing a bond would raise property taxes. Maybe there was fear of admitting that our community has grown and is projected to keep growing. Growth means change and change tends to make us fearful. Was there fear that city leaders don’t understand financial struggles experienced by some in our community – do those individuals fear they are invisible?

A common phrase in the Bible is “Do not fear.” Spoken by angels to surprised and fearful recipients of God’s important message, spoken by Jesus to the disciples: “Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not let them be afraid.” (John 14:27c) Jesus did not say this to one disciple, but to the community of disciples. If the community became fearful, it would break apart. Fear sends us in different directions and brings out our worst. Facebook rants and Thanksgiving dinner arguments generally stem from fear, when we have let our hearts be troubled and afraid.

Gil Rendl is a leader in the Methodist denomination whose latest book calls the church to attention. How might the whole church find its voice in this time of toxic fear and vulnerable communities? What, Church, do you have to say to a people who are being sent in different directions by fear? My colleague reflected upon what she knew, that it no longer applied to her new community. But the church has been here before. We’ve struggled through cultural divides over the centuries. We have heard Jesus caution the community not to be afraid. What we know applies to this moment, when the voice of fear bemoans the problems of a community without calling us to be caring citizens of that community.

I gingerly perused some social media last night, waiting for a word on the vote count. It is encouraging to see the courageous few speak truth into the untruths that enflame social media followers. The gift of truth is that it disarms fear. It invites all of us into a higher level of maturity to rely on facts and not fear. This, of course, is much less exciting. But best for a community, or even, it is the way we are a community built on hopes and dreams, facts and figures, refusing to let fear take the lead.

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Is Like, Is Like, Is Like

Jesus spends most of Matthew chapter 13 speaking in parables. A parable is a teaching tool in which a quick story is told with exaggeration and familiar illustrations. Jesus uses parables to help others imagine “the kingdom of heaven.”

The kingdom of heaven is not an address in the land of Eternity. Instead, it is the in-breaking of Christ in our lives. The kingdom of heaven is God’s dream for people and creation; it is like everyday life with some heaven-dust sprinkled on top.

Several times, Jesus uses these two words: “is like.” The kingdom of heaven “is like” a mustard seed, “is like” yeast hidden in flour, “is like” a farmer who sowed good seed. In each of these parables, the kingdom of heaven starts small and ends big.

Here is another one Jesus may have forgotten. The kingdom of heaven is like friendship. Perhaps this parable was missed when the gospel accounts were finally written down. Around a campfire with his own friends, I imagine Jesus saying the kingdom of heaven is like friendship. One small act of compassion grows into immense joy. The generous work of listening becomes the wide embrace of being known. The hidden hopes tucked away like yeast in the flour move out of hiding and it is God’s wide embrace known among our neighbors.

The kingdom of heaven is like friendship – the few and far between kind. The kind in which one friend speaks truth, occasionally a hard-to-swallow truth, the sort of truth that helps the other friend mature. The kingdom of heaven is like friendship, offering the caring questions that clarify the other friend’s thinking while being gentle with the conveyor belt of feelings.

The kingdom of heaven is like friendship, as one person caring for another sprinkles heaven-dust upon an ordinary world and there is joy. Two people evolve into two more well-defined, true selves, who respond to Christ’s joy by whole-heartedly caring for their neighbors with joy.

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