In Step With the Spirit

The great enemies of the spiritual life are usually summarized as The Devil, The World and our Sinful Flesh. And I keep using flesh instead of the more modern sounding nature because that is the word the Apostle Paul uses. Paul’s sinful flesh is not limited to what our minds immediately jump to. The Apostle is more psychologically attuned to all the ways our gut desires to have and control things. Those things can be actual things. In more advanced forms they are people. The will to domination. In St. Augustine’s Confessions he steals the pears not because he is hungry, or because the pears were good pears, or even because they looked good. He steals the pears because he wants them. And the second he has them he discards them. And it is his meditation on his desire for the pear that defines his sinful flesh. There is nothing good that comes out of it. Any logic or self justification usually comes later to cover the venality. Augustine’s pears help to show how deep it goes in ourselves. Augustine was a wealthy man. He had better pears at home. Like Ahab desiring Naboth’s Vineyard (1 Kings 21), or the story Nathan tells to David about the rich man stealing the lone sheep of the poor man (2 Samuel 12), it is the pettiness that brings the pathos.

I’ve included a sketch out of an older catechism. It was pictorial, so these ideas were things taught to 3^rd graders, maybe younger. You can see the three great enemies referenced: the devil, the flesh and the world. You can also see what that catechism put forward as the spiritual weapons against these enemies.

If the temptation was the flesh, if the desires to have and dominate are overwhelming, the spiritual weapon proposed is fasting. In Christ, through the Spirit, we can mortify the flesh (Romans 8:13). Mortify is an old King James word. The modern translation has “put to death.” It’s the same root as mortician, or probably more familiar, Morticia of the Addams family. The Spiritual logic is that either we are going to control the desires of the flesh, or the desires of the flesh are going to control us. There is no third way. As all the apostles would say, “do not be deceived (1 Corinthians 6:9 and elsewhere).” If we do not learn to control ourselves, a fruit of the Spirit is self-control (Galatians 5:23), what hope do we have of larger things such as the world or the devil?

We have a few weeks in lent, so I’ll return in future weeks with some comments about the other two. Fasting, prayer and almsgiving are the traditional penitential acts of Lent. Each one deserves 500 words alone. But one last word now. Please notice that none of these practices are practices of the law. We do not do these things to deserve salvation. In Christ the victory has been given to us. And if we find ourselves lost in the flesh, the world or to Satan, Christ calls us back. Every sinner who repents is greeted as the Father did the prodigal son. These practices are Spiritual practices. They are done in the power of the Holy Spirit. And those who are mature in the faith do not leave such things up to chance, but instead, having crucified the flesh, keep in step with the Spirit (Galatians 5:25). Lent is a season to hear what rhythm your step is keeping.

Moses’ Sight

This Sunday is the culmination of the season of Epiphany. And that culmination is always on the Mount of Transfiguration. My general meditation on the seasons is this. God does some major act in his creation. The start of Epiphany is the end of the Christmas story, the three gentile kings show up with their gifts. Does anybody really know or understand what has taken place? The answer is clearly no. Even Mary “gathers up all these things and ponders them in her heart.” And then across the season of Epiphany we “see” various miracles – the signs and wonders – of the life of Jesus. It is a crawling toward understanding just what has come to us. Then on that mount of Transfiguration you get the full revelation. Of course that full revelation is too much in itself. Peter doesn’t know what he is saying. James and John remain silent telling nobody what they had seen. How do you explain the vision?

I think that is a common way of experiencing life for many of us. Something happens. We know it is something big because it changes things. But we don’t really understand it. We haven’t incorporated the new event into our personal narrative yet. You only understand it when you can tell the story. And the story changes. And by the time you can tell it, something else has come. In the very midst of life surrounded by shadows of ourselves. Sometimes we become crippled, weighed down by how much we don’t understand even of ourselves.

But there is another story that crosses that mount of transfiguration – that of Moses. For as big a role as Moses seems to play in the Old Testament story, the reality is that he is an oddball side character. The story is that of the promise. Father Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Joseph’s providence. Joshua’s conquest. David’s heart after God. The tabernacle and temple and throne often against the prophetic word. All of Israel struggling to see and never seeing. But Moses “was 120 years old when he died. His eye was undimmed, and his vigor unabated.” Being someone who has worn glasses since the third grade, that line has always stuck out.

Moses is the man through whom God performed his signs and wonders over Pharaoh and all Egypt. Moses is the transcriber of the law and the entire Torah, the first five books of the Scriptures. Moses is the man who talks with God, goes to the mountaintop, delivers the law in cloud and majesty and awe. Moses shepherds the people in the wilderness for 40 years feeding them with the manna and providing the water from the rock. Moses “was faithful in all God’s house as a servant, to testify to the things that were to be spoken later (Hebrews 3:5).” But Moses was not The Son. Moses knew. His eyes were undimmed. But Moses is the law. And the law does not save. Not even Moses. God would tell Moses to preach to the rock to produce water the 2^nd time, and Moses struck it again. And for this careless trespass would not enter the promised land. With his undimmed vision he was given a sight of it, but in this life would not enter it.

The law is a faithful servant. It gives us eyes to see, probably better than we want to see. But the servant does not inherit the house. The Son inherits the house. And we can only receive the Son by faith. We enter the promised land by faith not by sight. The spies saw the inhabitants of the land and deemed it impossible. Joshua by faith crossed the Jordan. In the very midst of life we may not know ourselves but we are known. We may not see with undimmed eye, but we hear the voice of the Son inviting us into the house. Moses takes you as far as he can go. We cross the Jordan by faith.

“Rides Upon the Storm”

For some reason I, along with the church of this age, keep getting drawn into the book of Revelation. That is a fine book. Unlike many who have gone rabid over the centuries wishing to deny its place in the canon, I find lots of comfort in the book. Christ wins. His victory is given to the saints. It is not without struggle, but nothing worthwhile ever is. And the sight of the New Jerusalem coming down from heaven is worth it. But the older I get, and the more readings I have done in the Scriptures, the more I agree with another friend. He’s a philosopher and was quipping off the old joke that all philosophy is a footnote to Plato. At the bottom of the cups one day he said, “the entire scriptures are footnotes to Genesis.” Now the Gospels would be pretty significant footnotes, but in the Joseph story in Genesis it is all there. Joseph’s brothers reject him. He descends into the pit. Is declared dead, but is alive. Suffers greatly at the hands of many. Longs for his father and to do his father’s will. And ultimately forgives his brothers while reigning.

Our Old Testament lesson for today (Genesis 45:3-15) captures a scene toward the end of that story where Joseph shares an amazing line. Joseph has revealed himself to his brothers and asked after Jacob his father. And understandably the brothers “were dismayed at his presence.” Having sold him into slavery and long considered him dead, here he stands before them as ruler and savior. Surely now they will get the judgement they deserve. Surely Joseph will turn the tables. At the very least deny them the food they need in the midst of famine. Maybe just kill them directly after toying with them a bit. And while some of that may have played on Joseph’s mind earlier. Read the full story. Joseph has come to a different decision. “Do not be distressed…because you sold me here, for God sent me before you to preserve life. Genesis 45:5).” He refines this a bit as the story of his entire life. “It was not you who sent me here, but God. (Genesis 45:8).”

Saying something like that about our lives is easy for the good stuff. Giving God credit for our victories is easy stuff. When we are winners feeling the love of God comes naturally. Reference every athlete after winning the big game thanking God. And this takes nothing away from that witness. For God certainly provides the victory. Joseph is “lord of all Egypt”, the only one anywhere who has any food, the one who holds his brother’s lives in the palm of his hands. But giving God credit when we are down in the pit is a test of faith. When we are battered and bruised, black and blued, can God be there? And can we extend the grace of God to those who placed us there?

This is the witness. “If I make my bed in sheol, you are there. (Psalm 139:8).” He descended into hell. And when he returned it was not to exact vengeance against all who had thrown him there. Which would be all of us. He descended into hell, into sheol, the pit, to start the triumph. “God sent me before you to preserve a remnant (Genesis 45:7).” The absolute worst that Satan, the World and even death can throw at us, it threw at Christ. And it wasn’t enough. He descended to the pit, and set the captives free.

God leads us into all types of places. This is so that we might come to know that anywhere we are, he’s already been there, and he remains with us. This is so that we might learn to trust him for the victory. This is so that we might learn to live by grace. Do not be dismayed at his presence, for his presence is for our good.

A Sudden and Evil Death…

We don’t use it all that often. Ash Wednesday. Maybe the odd Sunday in Lent or Advent. The Litany (LSB 288) is a highly stylized and formal call and response prayer. Technically our “Prayers of the Church” are a litany. They are petitionary in that they ask God for something. There is a call and response form to them. The difference is that the call, the petition, is usually changeable and specific week to week, while the congregational response is fixed in one of two forms: “Hear our prayer” or “In you mercy.” The formal litany is contemplative in both call and response. The petitions are general: “from all sin, error and evil…deliver us good Lord.” As a contemplative prayer, we individually supply our sin, error and evil. And collectively we offer them up to Christ seeking deliverance. A litany in English has just become a synonym for an overly long list. But if that word was still grounded in the world of contemplative prayer, it is a list of things important enough to bring to Almighty God. It is a list of things common enough that we all fear the things in it. We don’t like to contemplate them, but we need to. And turn them over to Christ who alone grants us peace.

The line that plays on my memory today is one that I don’t think we tend to share with most Christians of most times and places as a trouble. “From sudden and evil death…good Lord deliver us.” Every time I intone that line, my contemplation is that I think most of us would prefer that, a sudden if not evil death. Don’t let me suffer or linger or be a burden. Let my death be fast and if not fast then easy. Our entire end of life system these days is built towards giving that. Although I am not sure if that is for the comfort of those remaining or of those leaving. But that petition was important enough for most Christians to make it into the litany. Sudden death for most of history was all around. Sudden death could be an evil death for multiple reasons, but primarily two. A sudden death might “capture us unawares.” Like the 5 virgins who fell asleep without oil, the day came, and they were not ready. The second thing a sudden death precluded was reconciliation. We tend to keep grudges, and if not grudges, there are all kinds of minor things, each a brick in a wall that builds up between us and our family or neighbor. And if not a full wall, a stumbling stone that makes interaction in anything but gentle pleasantries uncomfortable. The time before death was the time to clear away any of those hindrances. In our sufferings, to fill up the sufferings of Christ, and be reconciled to all. A sudden death would rob that.

Of course, I’m reflecting just on the fact of the sudden death of Dale and Marge. None of us knows our day, hour or minute. And neither of those two concerns were a problem with Dale or Marge. They were not caught unaware by the day. They both had a solid and fervent faith in Jesus. And in living out that faith I saw no evidence of stumbling blocks placed or walls that needed to come down. Dale and Marge lived the faith day by day. And in that they are examples of the saints we are to hold up for our instruction. We can pray that God would grant us the time to be in earnest, that sudden and evil death would not catch us, so that we might be reconciled at the last. Or we can recognize that now is that time. Today is the day of grace. Today is the day to strengthen our faith toward God and our fervent love toward one another. Today is the day to check the oil for our lamps.

Vocation Nitty Gritty

Last week’s old testament reading was from Jeremiah 1, which was Jeremiah’s call. This week we have Isaiah 6, which is Isaiah’s call. That is paired up with the gospel reading which is Luke’s telling of the call of Peter, which is slightly different than the Matthew and Mark versions. Not different in any “that one has to be false’ way, Luke is just more expansive of what lead up to the call itself. Matthew and Mark simple have, “Peter, follow me…and he dropped his nets.” Which always makes you wonder at the immediacy. Luke tells you what happened before that.

I’m usually one who is arguing for leaving room for the mystical. As Shakespeare wrote, “There are more things on earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” But if there is one place where I tend to think we don’t ground things enough it is when we are talking about calls. The fancier and more expansive word is vocation. And unlike the Roman Catholic tradition that reserves that word for specifically religious vocations, the Lutheran understanding of vocation covers both the kingdom of the law and of the gospel.

We all have vocations. We probably have multiple overlapping vocations. In Luther’s Small Catechism he introduces this idea in a section that gets skipped in many of our catechism classes. (Why? I don’t know.) That section is called the Table of Duties. The vocations that Luther works through in outline there are: Bishops, Pastors, Laity, Civil Magistrates, Citizens, Husbands, Wives, Parents, Children, Workers, Employers, Youth and Widows. He ends with “everyone” so that you can grasp the basic idea that the number of vocations is practically limitless. Everyone of us can apply the rule “love you neighbor as yourself” to our specific place in life. And that is the Lutheran idea of vocation at its simplest.

As we move through life there are many roles in which we have the duty or responsibility of love. Vocation is primarily how God tends for his creation. Adam and Eve were created to care for the Garden. God could do lots of things directly. He could speak and it would be done. He could snap his fingers and things would happen. But in his wisdom God typically does things like say to someone “follow me” or “take care of this one.” When you have a child that is God saying “take care of this one.” When you have a job that is God saying “take care of those who need this good or service.” These same vocations are how God takes care of us. None of us are completely self-reliant, as much as that might be the American ideal. We are bound to each other by our vocations which should be and are bonds of love.

Some of the complexity is that our vocations sometimes contradict each other. The most simple form of that contradiction is when we just don’t have the time/money/energy to meet everything those bonds of love demand from us. Take it to God in prayer. Part of his promise is providence. That we shall have what we need for this body and life. If we don’t have it, there is someone who does.

The tougher complexities come from our sinful nature and a fallen world. Many of our vocations have turned inward on themselves. Instead of being opportunities to love those given to us, those vocations become honors or means of extracting from others. We desire the trappings of the call, but not the duties. We might know we have a call but run from it. We might also just neglect it growing weary in love. Because love is costly.

When Jesus called Peter to be a fisher of men, it was a call to the cross. In Peter’s case a literal cross. All vocations in this world, being calls to love, are calls to the cross. But it is through these that the love of God is made manifest in this world. It is through your vocations that God’s love is made known to call creation.

The Object of Love

Don Draper, the symbolic ad man from the TV series Mad Men, professionally hated using love. Across seven seasons his various underlings would pitch him an ad based on love and he would crinkle up his nose and dismiss the idea. His reasoning would alternate between “nobody knows what that word means” and “the product is SPAM, are you sure you want to use love.” The character Don Draper was an unreliable narrator making his story up on the fly. But the Ad Man Don Draper was a genius.

Don’s first complaint was that the word “love” was too vague. The character, a charming womanizing drunk with flashes of deep humanity, was pulling from his life experience of a variety of things people called love, none of those things meaningful. Maybe the one thing Don loved was the work. In the end he would give up everything for the work. Which when the work is advertising is a commentary in itself, but that might have been his epiphany – “Do the work.” Which at the time included being demoted and reporting to his protégé. But in the Apostle Paul’s list it was an interesting picture of “love is not arrogant (1 Corinthians 13:4).” For as rich as the English language is in almost every area. We have words for everything, English being this great sink of the world collecting peoples and words from millennia. We only have one word called love. The biblical languages have a spectrum. You might be familiar with C.S.Lewis’ “The Four Loves.” That is based on the Greek words (roughly transliterated): eros, philia, storge, and agape. Each of those Greek words gets translated as love in English. But you would not mistake eros – sexual desire – for philia – how you love your brother or a friend. It’s not an original insight, but maybe our problems with friendship today are because it always gets coded homoerotically. Even Hebrew, a word poor language, has at least two words: Ahavah and Chesed. Ahavah is used first when Abraham gives Isaac as an offering. Love rooted in giving. Chesed is often translated “steadfast love.” It is rooted in enduring faithfulness. All of these concepts – sexuality, friendship, faithfulness, giving, graciousness, desire – in English get dumped into “love.” No wonder Don held “nobody knows what that word means.”

Don’s second complaint was about the object we attached “love” to. What are we doing attaching such a word meaning all those deep things to objects like SPAM. Can you really love donuts? Or cheap flights to New York? When we are profligate with our words, over time it is not the products or common things that get elevated. We lose the ability to label and recognize the true thing.

Paul’s song to Love – 1 Corinthians 13:1-13 our Epistle Reading – addresses both of Don’s complaints. Paul makes clear what “love” is in his poetic way. He also would make clear the appropriate objects of love. But the first thing I think Paul addresses is the non-performative nature of love. In our day and age it seems that everything we do ends up on YouTube. There is always a reflexive nature of our actions or emotions. We think we are doing something for someone else, but we secretly hope that it also rebounds for our fame, wealth, or other good. “If I speak in the tongues of men and angels” – things which would quickly get you millions of views – “but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.” Paul even addresses virtuous things. “If I give away all that I have.” Today we do all kinds of such virtuous acts, to record them and be known as being such a person. The phrase used to be doing well by doing good. If I do this, “but have not love, I gain nothing (1 Corinthians 13:3).” Love is not performative. It is not reflexive. You can’t do it and expect payback. And if that is what you are doing, you have already received the reward, but it is not love.

Instead “love is patient and kind…”. And you should know the rest. If you don’t go read it. Meditate on it. Write those words on your heart. Memorize them. For what the Apostle is really talking about is you as the object of God’s love. “Love never ends (1 Corithians 13:8).” Love has a worthy object. And you are a worthy object of God’s love. Today we only know that dimly, but tomorrow, face to face. And because we have been the object of the true love of Christ, we likewise are able to know love and to give love. Give that love back to the Father as worship and adoration. And give that love to our neighbor. Because those are the only worthy objects of such a transcendent thing as love.

Knowing

The mega-themes of the seasons of the church year are rather tight. Lent is primarily a penitential season, a season of confession. Easter is the season of fulfillment. Advent is hopeful longing. Christmas is the incarnation, the fulfillment of the hope of God’s promises. The long season of Pentecost is the life of the church in the world. Which leaves Epiphany, stuck between Christmas and Lent. Epiphany is tougher to apply an over riding theme. It isn’t the more practical Pentecost, even though the paraments are green and it is occasionally called Ordinary Time. There is a temptation to make it about knowledge, growing in wisdom as Luke often says about Jesus. But to we modern westerners knowledge is about technique. “I know how to do this.” Whatever this is. Knowledge is something you can regurgitate on a test. And given the rapidly emerging ability of AI, the returns to such knowledge in the future might be greatly limited. The same way we all have adapted to “you don’t need to know that, you can always just google it” we might be adapting to AI knowledge. You don’t need to know how to do that. When you need it done, ask the AI. But Knowledge was not always attained only through technique. Knowledge could be given through revelation. Knowledge could be a deeper understanding. The problem is what do we mean by that deeper understanding.

Understanding doesn’t really capture it because it is still too much in the head. We can know things in the head that we don’t do. Likewise we can know things emotionally or in our gut that we do nothing about. Epiphany is a heart knowledge. It is a coming near to God in a way that changes how we live. Our Old Testament reading (Nehemiah 8) has an Epiphany in full. There is an increase in head knowledge. Gathered Israel hears the Law read to them for the first time in a long time. ‘The ears for all the people were attentive to the Book of the Law (Nehemiah 8:3).” There is an Emotional knowing. “For all the people wept as they heard the words of the Law (Nehemiah 8:9).” Unfortunately that is where are reading cuts off. In the rest of Nehemiah though, those gathered people do change how they live. They complete the walls of Jerusalem and they reestablish Temple service. They keep the feast which had been forgotten, commit to Sabbaths and resupply the Levites. There are some questionable things that get swept up into their zeal, like the treatment of Jews married to non-Jews (“and they confronted them, and cursed them, and beat them (Nehemiah 13:25)”. But the overall picture of Israel’s Epiphany, or you could call it a revival, is understandably human. Even in knowing God better, we still remain far away in this life.

We come to church to hear and receive the Word. Prayerfully that enters receptive ears. Maybe it churns our gut whether in sorrow for how we have acted or in compassion for others – in faith toward God and in love toward one another. We come to church to hear that Word, and then we are sent to live it. We are sent to live it in the midst of this world. Unlike Israel who decided they needed to cleanse themselves by their own actions and kick out the world. God has made us clean in Jesus Christ. It is by living out what we have heard in the midst of the world that we keep the Epiphany. As Peter writes, “Keep your conduct among the Gentiles honorable, so that when they speak against you as evildoers, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day of visitation. (1 Pet. 2:12 ESV)” When our hearts have been changed so that we live it in front of the World, that is when the world has its own Epiphany.

A Doctrine of Cringe

Cringe is an instinctive recoil from something you don’t want to be associated with. Usually because of embarrassment. There are associated categories. Camp is something done in a flagrantly flamboyant way. It would be cringe, except that everyone knows it is being done for a joke. Tyler Perry’s Madea or the long history of men dressing up as women is camp. When you lose the joke and someone thinks it is serious, it is cringe inducing. And everyone just wants to get away from the uncomfortable situation. There flip sides to cringe and camp. Something that is venerable might be the opposite to camp. The Lord’s Supper is venerable. Simple vestments on a minister – the purpose of which are to disguise the actual man under the mantle of office – are venerable. At various times and places people have tried to turn them into camp. But sadly only the church itself seems to be able to do that when it stops treating the sacrament with veneration it becomes camp. And anyone associated with the church growth movement of the past 20-30 years probably knows the word winsome. It is the opposite of cringe. A winsome witness is one that attracts. Which was the entire goal of that movement.

The Bible and hence the church has a number of teachings, call them doctrines or dogmas. And these teachings really never change. The creeds are a summation of some of them: Creation and providence, the person of Christ and justification, Sanctification and means of the Holy Spirit. The catechism or the service itself adds the practice and administration of the Sacraments. There are other doctrines that grow out of the life of faith. And it is interesting to me how in each era of the church can treat certain doctrines as cringe and others as venerable, some as winsome while others as camp.

For example, the late middle ages had a thing for bridal imagery. You can hear Reformation echoes of it in many hymns. The Bridegroom Soon Will Call Us (LSB 514) or Soul, Adorn Yourself with Gladness (LSB 636) – “Hasten as a bride to meet him, and with loving rev’rence greet Him…” And such bridal language is solid biblical teaching. But in our sexually confused era many of these – especially if you go beyond the hymns and read for example Bernard of Cluny’s devotional writings – it dips into cringe. At least for men. Cringe at the level of “Jesus is My Boyfriend” songs.

Paul in our epistle reading today (1 Corinthians 12:1-11) is talking about a deeper teaching that causes the widest range of reactions. “Now concerning spiritual gifts, brothers, I do not want you to be uninformed.” To many high enlightenment academically trained theologians you have entered the realm of cringe. So much so that that many churches stopped teaching this doctrine. They developed their own doctrine called cessationism. A strict Calvinist would simply say 1 Corinthians 12 is a dead letter for all of us outside of the apostolic generation, because spiritual gifts have ceased. At the same time you have the largest modern Christian movement – Pentecostalism – which is completely centered around spiritual gifts and their use.

That division, much of Old Mainline Protestantism being cessationist, if not formally in reality, while many Christians being driven by their experiences into Pentecostal type churches, is exactly what Paul is trying to address. Most of the letter of 1 Corinthians is addressing various divisions. To the people that might find spiritual gifts as cringe, Paul straightforwardly says. “All these are empowered by one and the same Spirit, who apportions to each one individually as he wills.” Don’t quench the Spirit. To the people who find them the only interesting thing, be aware of the danger. First Paul seems to pair them up. “To one is given through the Spirit the utterance of wisdom, and to another the utterance of knowledge.” The flashier gifts find their balance in the more grounded. And these are all from the same Spirit. Don’t get haughty about your experience.

Paul’s point is that the one body has many members, and we all need each other. And if our era thinks hands are cringey, it would still be foolish to cut them off. Likewise, something might be very venerable, but if that is the only thing the church does, “if the whole body were an eye, where is the sense of hearing? (1 Corinthians 12:17).” If we let our era’s reactions, be they cringe or veneration, decide on the validity of doctrines, we probably find ourselves hacking up the body of the church. Instead we should seek out how the Spirit is “manifesting for the common good (1 Corinthians 12:7).”

The Flames

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. – Isaiah 43:2

We’ve probably all been watching the California fires. The reaction to these seems a bit subdued if anything. If I was taking a guess, it’s because they are somewhat unimaginable. Comprehending Pasadena burning or the Hollywood Hills is just not something that seemed possible. The search for Mrs. O’Leary’s cow will be impressive. (The apocryphal cause of the Great Chicago Fire.) So imagine turning to the assigned texts for Sunday and finding the above verse. The lectionary is way more topical than it has any right to be.

The Pacific Southwest District of the LCMS has eight (8) congregations in the area. As of Thursday morning all of them are still standing. Lots of evacuation. Some reports of members houses burned and further of students. Fairly universal power outages. But Trinty in Simi Valley’s report seems to summarize, “In ‘the eye of the storm’ with lots of wind but no smoke or fire.” Prayers are requested. But jumping immediately to a divine deliverance proclamation is too simple, even if that is what we would like. It would be nice if there was a divine hedge around us protecting us from the unimaginable. But that really isn’t what Isaiah is saying. What God is telling us here is better.

I’d suggest you read Isaiah 42 and 43 together if you have the time. Isaiah 42 is one of the “Servant Songs” which might be familiar. It starts off extolling the servant who “a bruised reed he will not break, and a faintly burning wick he will not quench. (Isaiah 42:3).” It proceeds through a call to “Sing to the LORD a new song, his praise from the ends of the earth (42:10).” But then it turns. Israel does not accept the Lord’s Servant. God does these things and does not forsake them, but “they say to metal images, ‘you are our gods’ (42:17).” Having turned from God they receive their due. “This is a people plundered and looted, they are all of them trapped in holes and hidden in prisons (42:22).” Isaiah is prophesying to those in exile attempting to understand their situation. Chapter 42 concludes that God has “set him (the servant) on fire all around, but he did not understand; it burned him up, but he did not take it to heart (42:25).”

The servant is both Israel as type and Christ as fulfillment. Israel failed, Christ is Israel reduced to one who succeeds. He takes our deserved baptism of fire. And that is where Chapter 43 begins. “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine (43:1).” Being God’s people doesn’t exempt us from the floods and fires of this life. It doesn’t take us out of a fallen world groaning for the revelation. We still pass through the waters. The rivers still rise. Fires still blaze. But the promise is that “I will be with you (43:2).” The promise is that this life “will not consume you (43:2).” And the “you” is “everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made (43:7).” We have a savior. The LORD our God, the Holy One of Israel. “Before me no god was formed, nor shall there be any after me. I, I am the LORD, and besides me there is no savior (43:10-11).”

The disasters of this life, far from being reasons to deny God, which is what the world wants us to do, are the opportunities to realize that God has drawn near to us. That in the midst of the fires, God is with us. And we shall not be consumed. That even if everything is lost, in my flesh I shall see God. The LORD makes a path in the sea. The waters of baptism now save you. The chariot and horse, the army and warrior, the wars and rumors of war that threaten to consume, “they lie down, they cannot rise, they are extinguished, quenched like a wick (Isaiah 43:17).” And this is done so that we might be his witnesses (43:10), “that they might declare my praise (43:21).”

Israel would not do this. “Yet you did not call upon me, O Jacob; but you have been weary of me, O Israel (43:22).” Yet God is faithful. “I will not remember your sins (43:25).” Which leaves it to us. Are we willing to witness. That even in the midst of disaster God is with us. Are we willing to praise? That Christ has saved us eternally. Fear not, for the LORD shall gather all his people, “bring my sons from afar, and my daughters from the ends of the earth (43:6).” For this we were made, to glorify God our savior.

Epiphany Stories

Epiphany – which on the calendar is always January 6^th, the 13^th day after Christmas, the Christmas season having 12 days – has a few Bible stories that are associated with it. The alternate name for Epiphany used by the Eastern Church, Theophany, might help in understanding. It all relates to a God showing forth. It is a sudden manifestation of our recognition of God in our midst. Christmas isn’t necessarily an Epiphany because nobody other than Mary and Joseph, the angels and the shepherds, recognized that this was God in our midst. The Epiphany is when we recognize who Jesus is. This is also how the word Epiphany crosses over to our general usage which is something like the personal recognition of a large truth. But the largest often hidden truth is the Godhood of Jesus Christ.

The stories associated with Epiphany are first the Magi and the star. God was shown forth by those wise men and their gifts. They traveled to find the King of the Jews, most likely guided by their astrological star sign. And then arriving at the Jewish palace, they are guided by a moving star – probably an angel – and their dreams to Nazareth, a town not even on the maps. God started to make himself known to those far off. And those gentiles bring him gold, signifying a kingly crown, frankincense, signifying a priestly calling, and myrrh signifying a prophetic purpose. Jesus manifest early as prophet, priest and king.

The second story associated with Epiphany is our gospel lesson today- the boy Jesus in the temple. The teachers of the law, the Jewish sages of that day, taking notes from a 12 year old amazed at his understanding and answers. But it might be the Epiphany missed that is more open to meditation. Said of Mary, “they did not understand the saying that he spoke to them.” That saying being “I must be in my Father’s house” to Mary’s chastisement of Jesus. His time was not yet. And so he returned and was submissive to them.

Which leads to the third story, the Wedding at Cana. It is a story that reverses the child in the Temple. Mary comes to Jesus about the problem with the wine. She knows now who he is and what he can do. Jesus says “It’s not my time.” But he then turns the water into wine performing “the first of the signs.” No longer submissive to Mary, Mary indicates it might be his time and tells everyone to do what he says. There is a very human interplay of the child desiring to move on early and the mother not ready morphing into the young man not wanting to set out and the good mother saying it is time.

The final story of Epiphany in the Baptism of Jesus. You get the full Theophany – God shining forth – in the voice of the Father, the descending dove of the Spirit and the Son exiting the waters. “This is my Son with whom I am well pleased.” The gospel retellings are interesting. Matthew tells the theophany as being audible and visible to all. Mark tells it as Jesus alone heard and saw. John holds that he Baptist gave witness to the voice and the dove (John 1:32-34). And Luke our gospel this year? Luke drily reports that it happened without any comment. There is something of every Epiphany in there. Not everyone sees and hears the same thing. At least not at first. We all grow into real Epiphanies. They take time to process.

All these stories are early. All are before Jesus begins his active ministry. They are hints of what is to come, but to the attentive it is all there. Which I tend to think is exactly how God works in the this world. When he reveals himself, it is all there. God does not withhold himself. But we are only able to process so much at any one time. Some Epiphanies are probably too big for our one life. We will be pondering them in our hearts until the resurrection. Other parts are made clear early. It is part of the grace of God that he reveals himself to far away magi and very close mothers. And in that grace is his steadfast love, that wherever we are at, we might come to know Him more fully.