It wasn't the law

After Hebrews 7:11-28 

It was set early on:

the priests were of the tribes

Levitical, named after Levi,

Jacob’s son. If this had been

sufficient, if the law has been

sufficient, if perfection could

have been attained through

this priesthood, nothing else

would have been needed. But

the priests were men, types

signifying who the real priest

was, indicating the priest

to come, the priest after

the order of Melchizedek.

This was the king who was,

is, a priest, the priest there 

from the beginning,

Only this priest alone was, 

is, sufficient.

 

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Some Sunday Readings

 

Non-Boring Poetry Books (for Children) to Make You Love Poetry – Erica at What Do We Do all Day.

 

Andy Crouch: In a Time of Culture Collapse, Build Friendships – Trevin Wax at The Gospel Coalition.

 

The Mystery of Father-Son Relationships – Benjamin Myers at Plough Quarterly reviews An Ordinary Life: Poems by B.H. Fairchild. 

 

Whatever Comes, Get Wisdom: AI, the Future, and Our Chief End – Owen Anderson at Christ Over All.

 

What About Abortion in the Case of Rape? – Jonathan Noyes at Stand to Reason.

Is timing everything?

After Luke 14:1-6 

Does it matter,

this art of healing,

on what day

it happens? It

seems a quaint 

concern, to be

worried whether

someone heals

on a Sabbath.

Does any form

of work, and

especially healing,

matter if it’s

on a Sabbath? But

I suppose it does

matter, for anyone

more concerned

with form, rather

than substance.

 

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Some Sunday Readings

 

Living with Dementia – Peter Milsom at Evangelical Magazine. 

 

Impossible Christianity by Kevin DeYoung – Redeemed Reader.

 

Here Shall Your Proud Waves Be Stayed – Kathryn Butler at Story Warren.

In all things

After Galatians 6:1-10 

In all things, be

gentle, gentle

in reproof and

confrontation,

gentle in bearing

one another’s

burdens, gentle

in bearing one’s

own load. Be

gentle in sharing,

be gentle in sowing

and reaping, and

sow and reap not

from self but from

spirit. Be gentle

in doing good. Do 

not grow weary and

do good to all,

especially those,

like you, called

to be gentle.

 

Photograph by Margot Pandone via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Friday Readings

 

With Blistered Hands and Aching Backs – Tim Challies.

 

Christ Walking on the Water – R.R. Rodgers at Kingdom Poets (D.S. Martin).

 

2 Wrong (And 1 Right) Responses When Confronted with the Shortness of Life – Michael Kelley at Forward Progress.

 

Iconic Mont Saint-Michel Abbey Celebrates 1,000 Years – National Catholic Register.

Servant of God Stanislawa Leszczynska: The Midwife of Auschwitz Who Delivered Thousands of Babies and Saved Thousands of Lives – Meg HunterKilmer at Church Life Journal. 

 

The End – poem by Seth Lewis. 

A pair of sonnets for John the Baptist -- Malcolm Guite.

A conscious choice

After Galatians 5:16-25 

We make a conscious 

choice, whether to walk

the path of the flesh or

the path of the spirit.

We have no excuse;

we choose one or

the other, knowing 

full well that one path

leads to destruction

while the other leads

to life. No one decides

for you, for me, for us. 

We decide. We choose.

We die, or

we live. 

Some Sunday Readings:

 

Piety, Technology, and Tradition – Jon Askonas at Mere Orthodoxy. 

 

I’m Not Fatherless Anymore – Samuel Sey at Slow to Write.

 

“The Test” and “Deathbed Request” – poems by Alan Steinle at Society of Classical Poets. 

Two walks

After Galatians 5:16-25

Two walks, starting

together but quickly

diverging, a sharp

separation, leading

in different directions,

stark, utterly unlike

each other, at war

with one another,

in fact. Discern

the paths by what

they produce.

 

One: immorality, impurity,

sensuality, idolatry,

sorcery, enmity, strife,

jealousy, fits of anger, 

rivalries, dissensions,

envy, drunkenness, orgies,

and more.

 

The other: love, joy,

peace, patience,

kindness, goodness,

faithfulness, gentleness,

self-control.

 

One is flesh.

The other is spirit.

Choosing the spirit

crucifies the flesh.

 

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The call

After Galatians 5:1-15

You are not called

to slavery; you are

called to freedom,

the shackles dropping

from your wrists and

ankles, the darkness

dispelled, the door

opened to the light.

Your call: the freedom

to serve one another,

to love one another.

That is the call you

heed, and that is

the call to which

you adhere. It is

the call to life. 

 

Photograph by John Salvino via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Sidetracked

After Galatians 5:1-15 

You were running the race,

and running well, feet 

in motion and eyes 

on the goal. The end,

the finish line, was

in sight. And yet

you stopped, attention

diverted to another

goal, another song,

seductive but false, 

a siren singing

to attract the ear and

betray the heart. Was

the song that compelling,

that attractive, even

when your heart knew

better?

 

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Once free

After Galatians 5:1-15 

Once free, once

unchained to discover

what life is intended

to be, why return

to the yoke of slavery?

Why return the chains

to your ankles and wrists?

Why embrace the overseer’s

lash?

 

To return to what

you’ve been freed from,

to fall down and again

worship what put you

in chains, severs you

from freedom and

its grace. It is not 

a chain that saved you.

 

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A choice between two

After Galatians 4:21-31 

Two women, one called

Hagar, one called Sarah,

one slave, one free, and

two covenants, one of flesh

one of promise, one

from Sinai, one from

Jerusalem above, one

from the family of self-

reliance, one from 

the family of salvation.

And so, a choice:

the flesh or 

the promise; slavery

or freedom; Sinai or

Jerusalem. Choose,

but remember: only

the free inherit, only

the free are heirs, 

their lives paid for.

 

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There is a freedom

After Galatians 4:8-20 

There is  freedom

to be shaped by

the Word, the freedom

that leaves death

behind, the freedom

of having the chains

drop from our wrists

and ankles, the freedom

to walk in light,

the freedom to walk

away from the darkness,

the freedom to be changed

from dead to living,

the freedom to see

the scales drop

from our eyes. It is

a freedom to be

treasured. A freedom

to be cherished.

 

Photograph by Abhishek Koli via Unsplash. Used with permission.

My heart breaks

After Galatians 4:8-20 

I know how far

you traveled, how

far you came, and

my heart breaks.

I know the death

you rejected, 

the death you left

behind, and

my heart breaks.

I know the light you

traded for darkness,

the light you rejected,

and my heart breaks.

 

Come back.

Heal my heart.

 

Photograph by Marah Bashir via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The cancel crowd

After Galatians 4:8-20 

The cancel crowd

doesn’t want you

blessed. It wants

you cursed, tossed

out, locked out

from the light, from

what you know is

true. And they do

this not for you but

for themselves, to be

made much of, made

powerful, important.

They use your destruction

to elevate themselves.

Turn to the light you 

know, not the death

you left behind.

 

Photograph by Andre Hunter via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The siren's call

After Galatians 4:8-20

 

You walk through the door

and stood in the light, free,

turning your back on the weak,

worthless beliefs of the world,

free at last. Yet now you turn

back to slavery, back to what

you left behind, back to what

is worthless and destructive.

This is not about adherence

to ceremonies and laws and

incense and requirements. This

is about freedom, breaking free

from slavery. Don’t turn back.

Go forward, into the light.

 

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A guardian

After Galatians 3:15-25 

The promise comes first;

the law follows. The promise

remains; once made, it’s

inviolable. The law comes

as a guardian, the guardian

who protects. The law isn’t

a promise; the law doesn’t

supplant the promise. It

serves as a guardian,

until the time when

the promise is fulfilled,

when faith comes 

in One. When faith

comes, the need 

for a guardian passes

away.

 

Photograph by Benjamin Wedemeyer via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The promise

After Galatians 2:15-21 

We embrace the law,

its familiar lines and

contours providing 

comfort and assurance

in a world often gone

mad. And yet our hope,

our inheritance, is not

by law but by a promise,

the promise made

to the offspring. Yet

the law does not 

contradict the promise,

nor does it codify

the promise. Rather,

it points.

 

Photograph by Kaleb Tapp via Unsplash. Used with permission.

This law business

After Matthew 5:27-32 

OK, I get it, I think,

this business about

obedience to the law,

with the law being

both letter and spirit.

But what are you

saying here, what’s

the point? If I hear

you correctly, you’re

telling us that thew law

expresses the lawgiver’s

character, his mind, and

we are so far removed

that we can barely fathom

what’s here, much less 

actually obey and do it.

So, if all of that is true,

are we without hope?

Are we simply to muddle

along, live our lives,

and die? If we can’t do

this for ourselves, can

anyone do it for us?

 

Photograph by Mohamed Nohassi via Unsplash. Used with permission.

It's the spirit

After Matthew 5:27-32 

Sitting on the hillside,

speaking one mind-bending

statement after another,

he comes to the subjects,

bookended, as it were, 

of universal interest:

adultery, marriage, lust,

divorce, and then

adultery (again). He’s

punching home his

argument about the law:

it’s not only the letter

of the law that’s the issue;

it’s also the spirit of the law.

It’s not sufficient to avoid

adultery and give yourself

a well-earned pat on the back;

it’s also the idea , the action,

of even looking with wrong

motives. It’s as if you want

to be congratulated for not

beating your wife. And

ditto for divorce.

 

Photograph by Josh Marshall via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Better than Pharisees Part 2

After Matthew 5:17-26 

How can you be better

than Pharisees, those

paragons of virtue who do

everything expected and

are master virtue signalers? 

I’ll explain. First, don’t be

Angry. Ever. For any reason.

Even if you’re justified,

Especially if you’re justified.

Second, don’t call anyone

a fool, even if that’s 

exactly what they are.

You can’t even call

them a fool in your head.

Resolve all bad feelings

against you, even if they’re

unwarranted. Reconcile 

with your accusers, even

if they’re wrong or false.

 

Who can do this, you say?

Who is humanly capable

of doing these things?

Right question. 

Right answer:

No one. That’s the point.

We can’t escape who 

we are. We can’t escape

our humanity. That’s why

there’s a law, a whole set

of laws, in detail because

the lawgiver knows how

we twist and turn and

try to find refuge from

our own behavior.

 

We can’t escape our fate

on our own. Only one

can do that, and do that

for us. The law is 

an impossible standard

because we’re human

and the lawgiver is not.

We can never measure up.

Our hope is in the impossible,

and the impossible has only

happened once.

 

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