Choosing the Greater of Two Evils

You make a mistake. You get yourself in over your head. You want the problem to just go away. But it doesn’t. It festers. And then one day the problem erupts. Instead of doing the right thing and coming clean, you make it worse. Far worse.

John the Baptist was no shy wallflower. He preached repentance from sin. He baptized. He lived what he preached. He called people out. He called leaders out for bad behavior. And that was a problem for Herod Antipas, tetrarch of Galilee and Perea. John was rather outspoken and didn’t mince words when he condemned Herod’s divorce from his first wife and then marriage to his brother Philip’s wife, Herodias. Divorce was not popular among the people Herod ruled.

To continue reading, please see my Daily Reflection today at The High Calling.

Painting: The Executioner Presents the Head of St. John the Baptist to King Herod; Giambattista Langetti (1625/35 – 1676), private collection / The Bridgeman Art Library.

The Conflict of Interest That Saved David’s Life

The idea of a conflict of interest goes back to at least Babylonian times, when judges were forbidden from accepting bribes from people involved in legal disputes. (Yes, this sounds like a no-brainer, but it must have been a significant enough problem for it to be forbidden.) The origin of the phrase "conflict of interest" is less certain, but it was in use in the English language by the 1740s, primarily in a legal context.

One of the best examples of conflict of interest occurs in the book of 1 Samuel. And yet the account never raises the question itself.

It's a familiar story. Jonathan, the son of Saul, is the friend of David. That friendship saves David's life, over and over again. It also put Jonathan squarely in the middle of at least three types of conflict of interest.

To continue reading, please see my Daily Reflection today for The High Calling.

Focusing Through the Frenzy

I have a job many people might envy. No one day is ever like another. Every day is filled with crises, activities, meetings, hallway discussions, frantic phone calls, and about 400 emails. Streams of communications come from Europe, India, South America, Canada, all over the United States, and all over our headquarters location. I’m never bored. I never have to complain about not having enough real work to do. It is a very rare day when I experience calm.

It’s a job in which I am constantly “on.” I have to give advice and counsel at a moment’s notice, correct a name in a online article, tweet a response to an issue, quickly fulfill a request on Facebook, and make sure the right people get communications that flow in through the channels we manage. Every day is an upheaval.

To continue reading, please see my Daily Reflection for The High Calling today, a meditation on 1 Peter 1:20-21.

Photograph by Larry Palmer via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission. 

Dislocations of Faith

The Apostle Peter’s first letter was written to believers in what is now Asia Minor, or Turkey. We don’t precisely know what they were experiencing, but the sense is that they were suffering persecution for their faith. Persecution of Christians in the Roman Empire ran the full gamut—from mild, to torture and death. Most persecutions tended to be regional or local, like the one Peter is referring to.

No matter how mild or severe, what persecutions did then, and what they do today, is to disconnect Christians from the familiar environment and culture they live in. 

To continue reading, please see my Daily Reflection today at The High Calling.

Photograph by Ken Kistler via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

The Agony in the Garden

Last spring, we undertook a major renovation of our garden. A garden expert designed the plan and worked with us to select plants and bushes. Soil was tilled, fertilized, and tilled some more. The result was wonderful—flowers and fragrances all over, with songbirds, hummingbirds, and four kinds of bees descending upon our yard.

Then came the great drought of 2012—soaring temperatures and no rain for months. I spent an enormous and agonizing amount of time watering. I learned that gardening can be both an ecstasy and an agony.

I think of another garden, another time, and another kind of agony. This garden was more an orchard; its name means “oil press.” It was familiar to Jesus and his disciples, the place they came to rest, to talk, and to pray.

But not this night.

To continue reading, please see my Lenten devotional at The High Calling today.