Do they know?

After John 7:1-31 

He speaks openly, they say,

so how can it be they

seek to kill him? They

say nothing to him as

he speaks, right there

in the temple, the very center

of life, and they do nothing.

Either the news and stories

are overblown, or they know

something, they know who

he is, and they will not

move against him, or they

are afraid to move against

him. Do they know he’s

the One foretold, the One

who could not perform

more signs than this man

had one? Are they afraid

when this many says,

“You know me.”

 

Photograph by Papaioannou Kostas via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Friday Readings

 

“Communion in the Asylum,” poem by Andrew Hudgins – D.S. Martin at Kingdom Poets.

 

Be Still and Know: Lives of the Wild Saints #10 – Paul Kingsnorth at The Abbey of Misrule.

 

“To Canaan’s Land I’m on My Way” by William Matthew Golden – Anthony Esolen at Word & Song.

 

Why I Changed My Mind About Women Pastors – Rachel Schoenberger at Reading Rachel.

 

Psalm 10 – Magean Willome at Poetry for Life.

Why I Won't Give Up on the USA -- Becky Ramsey.

Questions

After John 7:1-31 

Questions swirl,

a growing storm

as yet marked

only by clouds,

darkening, Already

some seek his life,

this threat to order,

this rabblerouser 

threatening to bring

down wrath.

Where is he, they ask.

Who is he, they ask.

Is he the one, they ask.

Who seeks to kill you,

they ask. The questions

rage, as if ocean

waves fight against

each other, ebbing and

flowing, cascading and

retreating, the crowd 

a raging sea of questions.

The answers are the same,

for now: his time has not

yet come. And the storm 

subsides.

 

Photograph by Amir Arabshahi via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Sunday Readings

 

Evangelism for Introverts – Greg Morse at Desiring God.

 

Watering Dirt – Ryanne Molinari.

Not the dogs

After Philippians 3:1-3

We are not the dogs,

not the evildoer; we

are separated from that

and more, the dogs

gobbling and scavenging,

consuming any and all

they find, breathing in

and inhaling what they eat,

evildoers mutating

themselves in faint

imitation of the remnant,

sounding an appeal

but delivering death.

Photograph by Smit Patel via Unsplash. Used with permission.

A named audience

After Luke 18:9

A named audience for the story,

not implied or to be inferred but

stated plainly and directly:

some (not all) 

who trusted (so far so good)

in themselves (whoa! We know

   where this is going!)

and what self-trust was about

   (we’re spiraling downward here):

their belief in their own goodness

   (yes, down the slippery slope)

with the result (expected and inevitable)

of treating others with contempt.

A coldness of self-recognition

creeps, wrapping its icy fingers

around our hearts, or enflaming

our self-trust in a defensive answer

or mutterings about this isn’t me,

is it?

Photograph by Davide Ragusa via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The words of Pharisees

I was sitting in a church training session. It was a meeting called for a Saturday for church officers, staff, and ministry leaders. We had a guest speaker – a nationally known minister from one of the main Bible Belt cities.

He didn’t have a reputation as Joe Cool, but that’s what he was projecting. Tattered jeans, sandals, speaking in that slightly sardonic way that connotes superiority. I looked around to see if I was the only one reacting this way, and I could see that I wasn’t. People were surprised, a little shocked, disappointed.

And then he dropped a couple of four-letter words so casually that it was clear this was how he talked. Hip. With-it. Cool. Relevant.

Because we were polite, no said anything or made a stir. He was a friend of one of our pastors. We should be modeling hospitality.

Fortunately, the meeting broke up not long afterward.

On my way home, still somewhat upset, a driver in front of me pulled a dumb maneuver that could have ended badly. I yelled a word I shouldn’t have yelled. The windows were up, so no one heard me. Well, no one, that is, except me and the Lord.

It wasn’t “as bad” as I had heard at the meeting, but I can’t quibble here. It was still the wrong thing to come out of my mouth.

And it didn’t excuse the visiting minister and what he had said. But it was a rather immediate reminder that I could fall prey to the exact same problem, even if the reasons were different. I wasn’t trying to be relevant or cool; I was angry. But it was still wrong.

“If we refuse to identify ourselves as sinners as well as saints, we risk the danger of deceiving ourselves about out sin and becoming like the self-righteous Pharisee,” says Jerry Bridges in The Discipline of Grace: God’s Role and Our Role in the Pursuit of Holiness.

I was exemplifying the behavior of the traditional Pharisee – condemning vulgar speech while essentially doing the same thing (“at least I wasn’t speaking to a roomful of people in ministry”). Our visiting minister was exemplifying the behavior of a “reverse Pharisee” – showing he could be just as relevant to the culture as anyone else, and indirectly suggesting he was more “with it” than the people he was speaking to.

But we were both still being Pharisees.

Led by Jason Stasyszen and Sarah Salter, we’re discussing The Discipline of Grace. To see other posts on this chapter, “The Pharisee and the Tax Collector,” please visit Sarah at Living Between the Lines.

Illustration by Dawn Hudson via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

We sit with them

After Matthew 9:9-13

We sit with the dark

to bring the light

we sit with the grief

to bring the mercy

we sit with the friendless

to bring encouragement

we sit with the sinner

to witness the salvation

we sit with the saved

to bring the redemption

we sit with the ignorant

to bring the wisdom

And they with us

for the same reasons.

Photograph by Christine Vincent via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.