Bible – Page 2 – Lisa Lewton

The Real Invitation

During their afternoon naps, Cornelius and Peter had unsettling dreams.

In Acts 10, Cornelius, who was not a Jew, envisioned an order from the Lord to seek out Peter, a Jew who was part of the new Christian movement. It was unsettling for Cornelius to imagine seeking out Peter.

In his dream, Peter envisioned an invitation to eat what his Jewish dietary laws forbade, which was extremely unsettling.

Cornelius sent for Peter to come to his home, both of them unsettled.

Together in the same room, Cornelius asked Peter to tell him the Jesus story. Peter did, preaching what he called “peace by Jesus Christ.” (10:36) The problem posed in this story is this: peace by Jesus Christ can be unsettling.

Peace by Jesus Christ invites very different people together. Let’s imagine.

Imagine you are part of the gathering of very different people. Imagine the gathering as the meal of Holy Communion. Imagine at your right is the person with political views the extreme opposite of yours. This is that outspoken, obnoxious, Facebook commenting person. The person you would rather never see, let alone commune beside. And that’s not all!

On your left is the family member you avoid all year long except that one holiday where you are forced to see that person in order to please your mother. The old hurt that exists between you and this family grows like mold. The scene you are imaging gets worse.

Across the table from you are the kinds of people you demean with your friends. They are wrong in every way, an insult to an otherwise orderly society. You curse these kinds of people because your favorite news source has conditioned you to see them as a threat. And now here they are, unsettling you at the table.

Who the heck created the invitations to this meal, you wonder, unsettled? How could this group of people be expected to sit together, eat together, pray together? Ridiculous, you mumble under your breath, along with other words.

And then you remember the invitation, which didn’t seem unsettling until the moment you found your place with these people, who have also found their place at the table, at the invitation of the dark skinned and shaggy haired host.

The invitation is not to people who look or live like you. The invitation is to people who are broken like you. Mercy is the equalizer at this table, Peter discovered when his unsettling encounter with Cornelius became peace by Jesus Christ.

Photo by erica steeves on Unsplash

Prepared Enough

There are ten bridesmaids in the parable in Matthew 25:1-13. Five are called wise and the other five foolish. Late into the night of the wedding, all ten are waiting to meet the bridegroom. Where is the bride? We have no idea, which is a hint that the parable is not a true story. In a true story, the bride is somewhere.

In this parable, the five bridesmaids are wise because they planned ahead, anticipating that the bridegroom would be late. They prepared by bringing extra oil for their oil lamps. The five foolish bridesmaids only brought what they expected they would need. They brought enough oil for a bridegroom who knew that 15 minutes early is on time and on time is late.

This dude was extremely late. Late. Late. Late.

All the bridesmaids took a nap while they waited. When someone shouted that the bridegroom was on his way, the five foolish bridesmaids woke to realize the oil in their lamps were running out. They asked their wise friends for more oil, but they declined, sending the foolish out to find an lamp oil shop in the middle of the night.

Did you know there are podcasts for people who enjoy planning and planners? Entire podcasts giving tips on daily, monthly, quarterly, yearly planning, as well as highlighters, markers and pens. On Monday, I listened eagerly to a podcaster’s pen recommendations. Eagerly!

Planning, however, can pose a problem. If we are too eager to plan our days and lives, we cling to the oil in our own lamps. We cling to the routine, cling to the comfort, cling to our own plans and favorite pens.

The parable wakes me up to recognize life is not an adventure to be planned. When people arrive asking for oil, they are not a disruption but an unexpected part of the adventure. I like to think I would have been a wise bridesmaid in the story. But unlike the wise in the story, I would have shared my oil and not sent the others out into the night to pointlessly look for a 24-hour lamp oil shop.

Blessed are those who plan without growing too attached to their plans. And blessed are those whose plans include a radiant response to the unexpected.

Photo by Thought Catalog on Unsplash

Annual Meetings and Why God Picked Moses

What is an annual meeting but a reunion of hopes and dreams? A re-gathering of your hopes and my dreams, my hopes and your dreams, grounded (we hope) in the stirrings of the Spirit. At these meetings, we review how resources have been shaped into hopes and approve how future resources are to be shaped into dreams.

A congregation’s hopes and dreams often get knotted up in the how muches and how manys. How many people are there? How much money do they give? How many years will the roof hold out?

Long ago, God called Moses into ministry. Not only was Moses called to be a leader for God, he was to be the voice of God. What terrified Moses was his very ordinary fear of public speaking. How much could God expect from a guy whose public speaking audience had been limited to sheep? How many people would be listening, Moses wondered. I’ll pass, he concluded.

After a few more exchanges, God gave in. He accepted Moses’ counteroffer to let his brother, Aaron, do the talking. Moses would lead and Aaron would speak.

It turns out, our human how muches and how manys do not get in the way when God wants to get something done. When God has an idea, it will happen. We can get on board or not, but no matter how arduously we point out a lack of how muches or how manys, God will make a way.

While annual meetings require human how muches and how manys, we can hardly believe that’s the point. The point of an annual meeting is to check in with the Holy Spirit. Are we listening to the Spirit’s hopes? Did we pay attention to the Spirit’s dreams?

It is a wonder the how muches and how manys tend to work out, as they did for Moses. We, like Moses, will certainly question God’s ideas. Often, they are absurd, at least at first. Why expect the sheep-whisperer to lead straying and wooly people…oh, perhaps that was a good idea, God. Sheep and people share much in common!

Even so, God will present to a congregation an array of mildly absurd ideas that require the time, talent, and treasure of its people. We might try to hold out, but it will work no better for us than it worked for Moses. If we listen, the reunion of hopes and dreams at an annual meeting will also happen to be the hopes and dreams of the God whom we follow.

Photo by Alberto Bigoni on Unsplash

An American Advent: Esther

You will find them in the reeds when Moses floats down the river. She is the unseen young girl whose parents were taken during the war. Before anyone else finds out, the angel first proclaimed the good news for all the world to her.

The Bible is nothing if not shocking. When something big is about to happen, it does not first happen among the mighty and powerful. Elected leaders do not shape the story of Scripture. Those with political importance are only center stage when they have messed it up.

The infant Moses was saved when two young girls took charge. It is teenage Mary who first received the good news of Jesus’ coming. And no one suspected Esther.

Esther’s story is told in ten chapters that famously make no mention of God. She was a Jew raised by her Jewish cousin, Mordecai, after her parents were taken in the Babylonian Exile. When the non-Jewish king went on the hunt for a new pretty face, Esther won his favor. Later, Mordecai overheard a plot to exterminate the Jews and urged Esther to use her place in the king’s favor to stop it. He said, “Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this.”

This Advent series challenges you to notice an Advent hope for our own nation. In America, the land of the divided and the home of finger-pointers, we tend to look for hope in all the wrong places. We look for hope among the wealthy, the mighty, and within our own political party. We blame and bicker, boo and belittle.

And no one suspects Esther.

Upon Mordecai’s urging, Esther went to work. When no one suspects you of changing the world, you have plenty of permission to do so. And she did.

As America waits for a better economy, a better selection of political candidates, a better nation, Esther is a story of what to do while you wait. She wasted no time blaming or bickering. She, a young woman in a man’s world, the unseen girl with tragedy as her backstory, hatched a Shakesperean plan that concluded: “…and if I perish, I perish.”

While we spend these Advent weeks waiting for the birth of a Savior and waiting for Jesus to come again and waiting for a better America, how are you waiting? Are you blaming the leaders you elected because America does not look how you want? Are you bickering with those who see the nation differently when all this time you could be the unsuspecting whisperer of hope?

Let’s move the spotlight from the nation to the Christmas dinner table that awaits you. You know, the table you may be dreading because the very people who bother you most will be seated beside you. People who see the nation differently, or your family history differently. People you successfully avoid most of the year. I recently listened to a podcast in which a listener asked if it is possible to just end it with her family because she’d had enough of them. If you are dreading the Christmas dinner table, it appears you are not alone.

Esther saved a nation, and perhaps you could save Christmas dinner. How did she do it? She believed that what made her unique was exactly what was needed. Out of love for her people, she was brave and honest. She did not wait for someone more important to make a difference, she understood the one who could make a change was her.

Photo Credit: Akira Deng on Unsplash

An American Advent: What Does Justice Have to Do with Advent?

Fighting for justice is the daily work of a mom of young kids.

While the word justice addresses big concerns such as hunger, poverty and racism, justice is also a concern at the Lego table. Years ago, the 19-month difference in my little boys’ ages nearly did me in, especially when Legos were involved! The more aggressive brother hoarded the Legos or disassembled his brother’s creation. Whatever each one had was never fair enough and the tantrums that erupted were Vesuvian. My job as a mom was to advocate for justice at the Lego table by asking questions of my two little boys:

Why can’t you at least let me shower before you fight?
But seriously, why are you so angry?
Can you tell your brother what you want?
How can you share what you have so the Lego table can be a fun place for both of you?

Justice is what happens when people work toward the same equitable goal. Justice is two little boys sharing Legos, even though it lasts only long enough for a mom to take a shower.

In America, justice is a touchy word. Currently, Americans are rather possessive of their notion of justice, applying the word only to their own political party – blaming the opposing party for threatening justice. But justice is not a partisan word, it is an Advent word.

The Narrative Lectionary reading for the first Sunday in Advent is spoken by the prophet whose name is pronounced more than one way. Habakkuk (HAB-ah-kuk or Hah-BAK-kuk) is advocating for justice. He is waiting for God to bring about equity for God’s people caught between the superpowers of the day: Babylon and Egypt. The future for God’s people is grim, so Habakkuk turns to God and says, “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen?”

This is the faithful cry of Americans today, waiting for justice. How long, Lord, will our nation cling to their political parties? How long will we stand for the news to be delivered without integrity, deepening the divide between neighbors? How long will everything that’s wrong be the fault of everyone but our own selves? Lord, how long?

Next week, I will share the story of someone who believed it was her responsibility to advocate for justice. It was not the responsibility of the political powers of the day, or even the more powerful gender. She believed it was her own work to advocate for justice, which changes everything.

This week, consider your own understanding of justice.

In a journal or a conversation with a person or the Lord, what would justice in America look like and how much does your own political preference shape your understanding of justice?
Turning back to the questions at the Lego table, but seriously, why are you so angry?
Can you tell your brother and sister in Christ who may disagree with you how you want justice to look?
How can you share what you have so ~~the Lego table~~ America can be a fun place for both of you?

Eventually God responds to Habakkuk. In 2:1-5, God’s response threatens anyone who depends on wealth and pride. Wealth and pride do not bring about justice. Justice requires as much giving as getting, which is very difficult to teach both at the Lego table and in America. May justice begin in our own nation with your own honest reflection.

Photo credit: Markus Spiske on Unsplash

The Woman’s Sneaky Golden Calf

The Scripture text I’ll preach on this weekend is about a golden calf (not a fancy plate of veal). In a nutshell, the people who followed God were getting tired of waiting for God to do what they wanted (get them to the Promised Land). In their impatience, they constructed their own god and asked that god to do what they wanted.

To make this fancy-pants god, everyone took off their gold rings and earrings and the man in charge melted them. Somehow it came out of the fire shaped like a calf. (All of this is reminiscent of previous ways God’s people tried to do it all themselves without God’s help.)

The idea of worshipping a calf-shaped hunk of gold is preposterous. Why would they expect a shiny and ridiculous version of God to accomplish what only God can do?

Well…that’s where I begin to wonder. Does this strike a chord with you, the idea of getting impatient and then just doing it yourself? That’s where God’s people began to fumble. It was their impatience that bested them.

I am bubbling over with impatience these days. Impatient for worries about the coronavirus to fall away. Impatient for my kids to go hang out with people and not be stuck in our house so dang much. Impatient for my husband’s and my work to stop filling the margins of our lives quite so much. Impatience.

And in my impatience, I am aware now I just might be looking to the wrong, ridiculous things to get through this season. I’m doing too much and forgetting to be gentle on myself. (I bet you are, too). I’m taking shallow breaths and moving too fast from one thing to the next. (I bet you are, too). I feel guilty about not getting to all the people who need spiritual care instead of relying on the Holy Spirit to be there first. (Spiritual leaders, I bet you are, too.)

That shiny golden calf looks like the copious ways I’m trying to do this myself, instead of patiently waiting for God to show me what to do. Show me, God, perhaps I can wait for a moment.

Only a moment, though. I’m kind of impatient.

The Deep Breath That Is Saturday

Look at you! You made it all the way to Saturday. Perhaps it was a long way, or a quick trip. Here you are.

Saturdays can be a deep breath when you stop to recognize how shallow you’ve been breathing for so many days. You’ve taken in only the minimal amount of breath to get by; today you can breathe deep.

Sit down and breathe.

Feel the weight on your shoulders and wonder what all that’s about. Maybe some of that weight should sit somewhere else. You’ve got breaths to take.

Look around at the people and place in your life. Scroll through the past week and wonder what you missed in the lives of these people in the place where you are, and what you will refuse to miss in the week ahead. Abundant life demands a creative tapestry of the word “no”. No to this if it makes you too busy and your breath too shallow. No to that if your shoulders are heavy with demands that need not be yours.

There is enough breath for you to take it into the depths of your soul. People who studied Hebrew know a lovely secret that the Hebrew word for breath (you read in the Old Testament) is also the word for Spirit. A deep breath is an inhalation of the Holy Spirit. So take a breath and then another and let the life-giving Spirit enliven every cell in your body, every thought, every heartbeat, every movement.

Thank you, Saturday. We should do this more often.

Pruning Oops

Pruning: The art of cutting branches in the right place at the right time to promote good growth.

While gardening is not my thing, fortunately for me it is my husband’s thing. So although I understand nearly zilch about making a backyard pretty, I get to enjoy a pretty backyard with perennials that showcase a variety of colors at different times throughout the summer and fall.

I am not a gardener, but I am quite helpful. This year, however, I learned I am not so much a helpful gardener. Let me confess why.

Pruning perennials happens most intensely in the fall at our house. We cut back plants to protect them from winter so they are ready to shoot out of the ground in the spring. Last fall, my husband was away one weekend and I decided to pretend I was a helpful garden.

In my defense, my husband had taught me to prune this and that the summer before, arming me with just enough knowledge to be dangerous. At the same time, I had spent many months in discernment about how my life had become overgrown in some areas. I was as determined to prune the backyard as I had been pruning away at the busy in my life.

Looking back, this is clearly a dangerous collusion.

I pruned it all. Everything. Every perennial that had grown I pruned to the ground, with almost no exceptions. The grapevine my husband had been tending for a few years did not see it coming. I pruned it all, making the fence it had clung to naked and confused.

My husband lost a breath when he saw my “helpful” gardening, but because he has more grace than concern about his backyard, he said something like, “Thank you. Next year we can do this together.”

Grapevines should not be pruned each year. Some of the perennials I pruned can fend for themselves over the winter and should have been left alone.

All these things I know now!

Perennials, like life itself, demand constant pruning. The gift of your life is not to be wasted, taken for granted, or left to grow out of control. God has given you life “that truly is life” (1 Timothy 6:19), and that life requires sitting with God, the wisest pruner of all, and wondering what to cut back and what to let grow.

Just don’t go after it alone with a Felco Pruning Shears, or you might prune the wrong things, like the grapes. Now we have to wait patiently for new growth, which indeed is coming. Even pruning oops can be redeemed by the God who grows abundantly life now and always, particularly in you.

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