Being A Part of God's Dream

The following was originally posted as part of “With Thanks”:

“Rejoice continually, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.””

— 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Every parent has dreams for their children. From the moment of their arrival, we imagine what the future might be like for them and set about making plans on their behalf. Some of our schemes are elaborately plotted - often to the frustration of the kids! Other designs are more laid back and fluid - more direction, less detail.

It is not a far stretch to say that most, if not all, people want their children to be healthy and happy. We want them to be filled with joy and make a positive contribution to the greater good. In short, we want them to love and to know love in their life.

The dream of love is one that our heavenly parent has for us and all of our human siblings. You can sum up scripture by saying that it is a love story between the God of steadfast love and God's beloved humanity. God loves and remains faithful even when people do not. God's love refuses to give up.

The life of Jesus embodies this enduring love. When we read the stories of Jesus' kindness, compassion, and inclusion - we read the next chapter in God's love story. Jesus forms a community with a command to love one another.

Through our baptisms, God links us to this community and to the mission to carry on with Jesus' love. Together, we are strengthened by the Spirit to help bring about God's dream of love.

Living a life of gratitude, we enter into God's dream of love. When we express thanks, we recognize that there is a bigger plan to which we belong. Appreciation for the PLACES, PEOPLE, and our PERSON encourages humility and generosity. Our energy, purpose, and focus turn outward - which is the same direction in which Jesus lived.

We won't always get it right. Most days we won't in spite of our most sincere efforts. We will cause heartache for God as we withhold our love and act in unloving ways. Still, by grace, God does not abandon but instead forgives. God keeps holding onto the dream of love for us.

What joy to continue to be part of God's dream! Thanks be to God!

---

Prayer:

Gracious God, let me rejoice in your love for me and others. With thanks, help me to take part in your dream for this hurting world that you continue to love. Through Christ, Amen.

Lunch With Neil

The following comes from the Lenten series “When the Path Gets Rocky, 2018”

Mark 5:1-13

They came to the other side of the sea, to the country of the Gerasenes. And when he had stepped out of the boat, immediately a man out of the tombs with an unclean spirit met him. He lived among the tombs; and no one could restrain him any more, even with a chain; for he had often been restrained with shackles and chains, but the chains he wrenched apart, and the shackles he broke in pieces; and no one had the strength to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and on the mountains he was always howling and bruising himself with stones. When he saw Jesus from a distance, he ran and bowed down before him; and he shouted at the top of his voice, "What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I adjure you by God, do not torment me." For he had said to him, "Come out of the man, you unclean spirit!" Then Jesus asked him, "What is your name?" He replied, "My name is Legion; for we are many." He begged him earnestly not to send them out of the country. Now there on the hillside a great herd of swine was feeding; and the unclean spirits begged him, "Send us into the swine; let us enter them." So he gave them permission. And the unclean spirits came out and entered the swine; and the herd, numbering about two thousand, rushed down the steep bank into the sea, and were drowned in the sea.

REFLECTION QUESTIONS:

What are the “demons” that are unruly in your spirit?  What are the places in your life that you find yourself isolated from others?  When do you feel most disconnected with God?

FIVE-MINUTE STORY:

Every year in the springtime and autumn - like the seasonal blooming of the crocus and the falling of the leaves- Neil would pop up at the church office.  He was a wanderer and lived without a home.  He had long scraggly, unkept hair with a beard to match.  His earth toned clothes hung on his body in a deflated manner.  

The first time I encountered Neil, I was taken aback and startled by his appearance.  In a respectful and humble manner, he asked for a few dollars.  Normally, I am very suspicious of such requests.  I usually listen, however, to the hardship story that always follows.  If it sounds sincere, then I will extend some resources and wish them on their way.  True to my practice, I listened to Neil tell his story.

Neil told me of his travels up and down the eastern seaboard.  He moved in the direction of warmth - south in the winter, north in the summer (he didn’t like it too warm.) He was well spoken and belied a lot of my personal stereotypes.  The first of my semi-annual visits from Neil finished in a congenial manner with a laugh or two. I later learned from my colleague, Pastor Mac, that Neil was a seasonal visitor - Spring and Fall.  Every year.  He'd come and we would help him out.

The last time that I saw Neil, it was in the spring.  He visited Faith Lutheran Church around lunchtime.  At the time, I was taking a doctoral class on eucharist and the role that meals played in the faith formation of the early Church.  An actual meal was part of the weekly worship life of the first Christians.  They shared this meal (or didn’t - see 1 Corinthians 11:17-22) with all who gathered - rich and poor ate in communion together.  What is more, when they broke bread they understood that the Risen Christ was present among them.  This insight inspired me to ask Neil a question.  Would you like to go to lunch?  

I drove us to a nearby diner.  There we ordered sandwiches and had time to talk over strong coffee.  I learned something of Neil’s story and struggle.  Neil shared anecdotes from his travels -about which towns and churches extended welcome and which did not.  Life was not easy for Neil.  He had his share of demons and trials.  We didn’t get into much detail.  In a way resembling Neil’s travels, our conversation wandered and rambled as we consumed our French fries. 

When we finished lunch, I asked him if he needed a ride.  When I arrived at the corner that he requested, he shook my hand with thanks.  As his large and shaggy frame exited my vehicle, his wrinkled and weather-worn face bore a smile. 

---

Copyright 2018. Walt Lichtenberger. Permission granted to share with family and friends.

Crying Out to God in Times of Trouble

---

The following comes from the Onward & Upward series and was written by Walt. This story takes place at Mt. St. Helens, Washington.

Rise up, O Lord, and go to your resting place,

you and the ark of your might.

Let your priests be clothed with righteousness,

and let your faithful shout for joy.

Psalm 132: 8-9

Rise up, O Lord! It is a cry for God to act that is rooted in the sacred memory of God acting during the Exodus. The Psalmist recalls the time when the people carried the Ark of the Covenant as God led them across the wilderness. In later years, the Temple housed this golden relic in the holy of holies, a place that was so sacred that only the high priest could enter but once a year. 

It remained there until it was ‘lost’ to history; when the Babylonians destroyed the Temple in 586 BCE and carted off all the sacred objects found within. The Ark of the Covenant is noticeably absent from the meticulous list of “holy-booty.” It would take centuries before Indiana Jones rediscovered it in the Hollywood classic, Raiders of the Lost Ark. Movie aside, it is probable that we will never know for certain the final resting place or the fate of the original Ark of the Covenant. It is gone.

Rise up, O Lord! Ark or no Ark, it is a cry for help that goes up time and time again when hardship and despair arrive uninvited. Humanity cries out for divine help when forces beyond our control threaten life itself. No doubt, desperate cries were lifted up on the morning of May 18, 1980. 

At precisely 8:32 a.m., Pacific Standard Time, Mount St. Helens erupted. The destruction that followed was massive and pervasive. Without metaphorical exaggeration, destruction flowed down the mountain, and the sky was dark with a thick plume of ash. In all, fifty-seven people died; 250 homes, 47 bridges, 15 miles of railways, and 185 miles of highway were destroyed (source: Wikipedia). Mt. St. Helens was itself changed by the eruption; a massive avalanche reduced the mountain’s summit from 9,677 ft to 8,363 ft, leaving a mile-wide horseshoe-shaped crater in the center.

As devastating as this historical event was – and there is no question of the magnitude of its horror – struggle comes in a variety of sizes. Although there may not be an ash plume or pyroclastic flow involved, in a matter of seconds our lives can forever change. Destruction can as easily befall us on the highway as it can in a doctor’s office when a diagnosis is pronounced. When things erupt, we can find ourselves in the uninvited place of loss and grief. We find our faith itself is in the fallout zone.

Justifiable anger is appropriate against simplistic theologies that seek to quickly explain away evil and put ‘the best spin on things.’ Worse are those who have the spiritual arrogance to suggest that God is testing us with atrocities or giving us as ‘much as we can handle.' God works in everything to bring about good (that is the hope of resurrection, after all) but to suggest a causational relationship between God and the bad things that happen is cruel.

But what can be said? What words can we faithfully offer in times of devastation, when lava flows and ash falls upon us? Over the years, I have found that patent formulas don’t work.  There is no magical spell or a mother’s kiss that ‘makes it all better.’ Like the simplistic theologies that offer no real comfort, trite phrases like, “it is all for a reason” or “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle,” lack integrity.  Instead of trying to patch things up and make sense of it all, throughout the book of Psalms, the faithful simply cries out. They cry out to God.

Rise up, O God! Help! Aaaaaghhhh! @!#$@#! The faithful lift their voices to heaven, even as they can’t begin to understand the why of God’s ‘inaction,’ or the mechanics of how this is happening, or where God is in the midst of it all. It doesn’t matter if the cry comes from a place of confidence or desperation. Uttered in the context of the relationship that we have with God, whatever that relationship looks like, it remains faithful. 

Here is the sound of genuine faith-speech with all the honest emotions of anger, fear, frustration, and uncertainty attached. It ultimately trusts in the relationship that God established with us in the very moment when all seems gone. It is also messy and lacks the polish of well-formed and systematic thought. Still, it is the theology of the heart, forged in the crucible of struggle, and it rises to the very heart of God.

Driving up the winding road to the Johnson Ridge Observatory, we could still see the trees on mountainsides that were pushed over by the blast. Over thirty-five years later, the trees are still aligned perfectly in the direction of the eruption. Void of any leaves or needles, the graying wooden stalks bear witness to the moment when the creation itself cried out.

Living God,

our lives cry out to you.

In the midst of hardships,

difficulties,

and sorrows we come to you.

We want answers

to the nagging questions

that haunt us.

Be present

as we both discover uneasy truths

and dwell in the place of simply not-knowing.

Rise up and bring us the peace

that passes understanding

so that we might rest in you.

Through the Resurrected Body of Christ, amen.

© 2020 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

If you enjoyed today’s devotional, why not check out the series. For more information and to subscribe (click here).

A Humble Caring of Creation

---

The following comes from the Onward & Upward series and was written by Walt. This story takes place in the Redwood Forest, California.

“O Lord, my heart is not lifted up, my eyes are not raised too high.”

Psalm 131:1a

At the time the Redwood National Park was created in 1968, 90% of the original redwoods were logged. Imagine 90%. If you had ten dollars in your hand, throw away nine of them.  A hundred years of human consumption almost eradicated trees that survived centuries of fire, disease, storms, and lightning. 

Whenever I hear about such things, my blood starts to boil. I think, how could we be so irresponsible? My mind then goes to thinking about the fat cats who lounged in their plush railroad cars making their millions off the rape of the land and the backs of the laborers who risked their lives doing dangerous and backbreaking work in the forests. To think that business was allowed such free reign without regulations that guarded the common good and our national treasures. For some, it was a golden age where the golden rule was meticulously followed: those with the gold make all the rules. It built a nation, to be sure, but it came with a debt upon which we are paying inflated interest. It also came with lessons that we continue to resist learning.

Let me be clear. I am not a Marxist. Unrestrained capitalism certainly is flawed (as evidence in the near destruction of the redwoods), but the Marxist experiments were no better in protecting the environment. Besides, it is not my purpose to debate economic and political theories and ideologies. I remain skeptical about those who would have the arrogance to link Jesus to a particular economic system.

What does interest me, however, are the roles that pride and humility play in our spiritual life.  

Somewhere in the tourist materials that I gathered, either at the entrance gate to the National Park or in the tour guide books that I accumulated beforehand, I saw the historic logging photos of bearded men in long-sleeved shirts wearing suspenders, perched atop almost comically oversized logs with their axes. They posed proudly with a sense of accomplishment- an embodiment of western frontier optimism. 

I looked at them and found myself both amazed at what they did with hand-powered tools and horrified by their participation in the destruction of the forest. I find myself in a judgmental mood as I ask the question; did they not know that what they were doing is morally offensive? How can one justify destroying an ancient forest to make fancy cigar boxes and redwood decks?

From my smug position living an ‘enlightened,' progressive, and privileged experience in suburbia, I look down upon those who chopped down the redwoods. I judge the error of “their” ways. I also resist looking into the mirror. I don’t give a second thought as I consume energy, gas, plastics, etc. I remain a consumer of the natural resources of the planet without knowing (or wanting to know) my complacency and guilt in environmental destruction. The cross of Jesus serves to knock me off my high perch into the messy no man's land of reality.

We enter the realm of paradox, again.  Although I am sensitive to the need and the cause of environmental stewardship, my very living contributes to the planet’s destruction. The very act of using technology to create and distribute this daily devotion consumes energy and precious natural resources. There is no escaping the paradox.

And so I’m left with needing to cultivate humility. Humility is not a cure for paradoxical living but rather a healing balm for our planet’s open wounds and a guide for faithful engagement as we live into the role of steward and caretaker. Humility is also a good walking companion as we park our vehicles at the side of the road and head into the forest.

Living God,

we haven’t been the best stewards of your creation.

We cut down your forests

with a lust to consume

that upsets the natural order.

We don’t consider the costs of our consumption

on either creation or our fellow humanity.

Make us aware.

Help us to repent

from our arrogance

so that we might turn toward you

and embrace living humbly.

Inspire us to plant and nurture

as we harvest and consume.

Through the Resurrected Body of Christ, amen.

© 2020 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

If you enjoyed today’s devotional, why not check out the series. For more information and to subscribe (click here).

Watch and Wait

---

The following comes from the Onward & Upward series and was written by Walt. This story takes place in Chimney Rock, Colorado.

“If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities,Lord, who could stand?But there is forgiveness with you,so that you may be revered.”  

Psalm 130: 3-4

At the top of the mountain, the volunteer-driven, park service van pulled into another parking lot.  After disembarking, our tour guide led us to a trailhead.  Our hike would be in two parts: the lower area had a few foundation excavations including a kiva; the upper area had higher walls, multiple kivas, and the place from where you could see the rock formations that aligned with the heavens.  To cover all this territory, we would be walking for about an hour and a half. 

At the trailhead, we received our first warning about dehydration. A quick biology lesson.  Altitude has an effect on the body.  It can mess with our sense of balance, hydration, and can cause sickness.   Over the years, I have experienced the negative side of these realities.  Altitude sickness is not fun.  It is real and you just can’t ‘shake it off’ either.

Following the tour guide down the first path, my son Mark started to say that he wasn’t feeling well.  I noticed that he didn’t seem quite himself.  But we were on tour, so I encouraged him to take some water and carry on.  In hindsight, it was not the most compassionate response on my part.  At the time I recall thinking it might have been the van ride up the winding roads; the kind of thing that can make even the strongest constitution a bit queasy.  

The tour guide explained some of the archaeological evidence (pots and other artifacts) that scientists had uncovered at the site.  Interesting stuff to be sure.  I got lost in the history and story of the ancient people that came to this high place to conduct their ceremonies based on the stars and the moon.  

From the physical evidence left, it seemed like there was a smaller number of people who lived on this summit to maintain the space.  Priests, perhaps, who watched the heavens and waited for the time to be right.  Then others, many others, would come for the ceremonies when it was time.  Their rituals provided alignment for their lives and their community - connecting them with the order found in the night sky.   Lost in my imagination, I forgot about Mark’s condition. 

The altitude sickness was getting to him.  As the tour guide explained that the place where we were standing lined up with the constellation Taurus, Mark’s stomach decided that it could no longer wait to settle down.   As the tour continued, Mark felt a little better, sans breakfast. Watch and wait for things beyond ourselves.  We are not really in control, are we?  Enter the idea of paradox as we journey to the cross and the place where God is present in the midst of struggles, sickness, powerlessness, and contradictions.  Sickness reminds us of our frailty.   We don’t ‘feel’ good when our bodies betray us along the trail.  Hurt and pain remind us of brokenness we would otherwise ignore.  

It is important to recognize that even the young fall victim to things beyond our control.  We can, and must, take precautions.  We carry water in our canteens and first aid supplies in our field bags.  No matter, we can’t plan for every contingency.  Unable to anticipate every need, we can’t carry all that we need.   Somewhere between solving problems and being swept away with chaos, we find ourselves.

Recognition of the reality of life in earthly contradictions is critical.  Both optimism and pessimism are both correct and half-truths.  We can’t solve every problem on a path of unending progress.  We can’t resign ourselves to forces beyond our control, either.  Somewhere in the paradox, in the tension, in the contradictions of life is where we need to walk.  Here, we find the invitation to look to the heavens to make sense of earthly contradictions.   Watch and wait.  

Living God,

give us the strength to watch and wait. 

When life becomes messy and confusing,

let us rest in your presence. 

Calm our fears and comfort our tired souls. 

Empower us to awareness

of your grace and love. 

Through the Resurrected Body of Christ,

amen.

© 2020 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

If you enjoyed today’s devotional, why not check out the series. For more information and to subscribe (click here).

Introduction to Week Seven of the FEAR NOT series...

---

The following comes from the FEAR NOT series and was written by Walt.

Throughout the FEAR NOT devotional series, we have considered a variety of fears that we are facing in the COVID-19 pandemic. Each fear that we encountered brings challenges and tests our faith. We have struggled through a great deal already, and it is far from over. The virus lingers like an unwelcome guest that has long overstayed its welcome. It is a painful time, filled with all sorts of emotion.  

In this final week, we turn to the greatest of all fears - death itself. From the smallest creature on this planet to the largest, we all must deal with the same uncomfortable reality - death comes to all.   

It is a hard truth that we are skilled at avoiding or denying. We pretend that we are immortal and hide behind our health, age, strength, and smarts. We overlook our vulnerability and frailty - until, of course, we are unable to keep up the charade.

Woody Allen once said, "It's not that I'm afraid to die; I just don't want to be there when it happens." 

It is particularly challenging to ignore death during a pandemic. Daily death counts on the news remind us of the lethal nature of the virus that moves over our planet.  

Depending on where we live, the experience with Covid-19 deaths has varied in intensity. For example, my brother and his family know people who have died. They live near New York City, where the death toll has been in the hundreds per day.    

Still, we are not without Covid-19 deaths in Minnesota. Sadly, I had to perform a virtual memorial service recently. It hit close to home; the man was my age.    

Of course, many people are recovering from the infection. Some have experienced symptoms no more than a bad cold. It seems so random and unpredictable. There are patterns, to be sure. Those who have preexisting health conditions and are older seem more vulnerable. But not everyone fits the typical description- my brother's coworker was thirty-eight and had a young family.  

What is a person of faith to do in the frightening face of death?    

Each week, this devotion offered a gospel counterpoint to each of the fears that we identified. Our God, who is full of steadfast love, refuses to leave us alone in our fears. The heart of the Easter message is to 'Fear Not.' At the empty tomb, God invites disciples to lives filled with resurrection and hope.  

Fear not! The Risen Christ leads us through the valley of the shadow of death. Just as we don't go through life alone, neither do we face death alone. God goes with us and beyond. In the sure and certain hope of life everlasting, we trust that death is not going to have the last word.

We trust in God's promise and presence as we muster every fiber of courage within our trembling spirits. Fear not! It becomes a mantra and a self-fulfilling prophecy. Fear not! Although we speak these words with varying levels of conviction, they taunt death's dominion over us.  

The Creator of Life is also the bringer of resurrection. Love lingers even after we breathe our last breath. As St. Paul wrote, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's (Romans 14:8).  

And so, we keep going until that day when we have run our race, and the fears and worries of this life are no longer. At that moment, we will rest in the comfort of God's eternal care.         

Prayer: 

Eternal God,

give me courage

that I may live

this day to the fullest.

Let me so trust

in your everlasting care

that I might fear not!

Amen. 

© 2020 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

Keeping Prayer Real

---

The following comes from the FEAR NOT series and was written by Walt.

“When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered around him; and he was by the sea.  Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw him, fell at his feet and begged him repeatedly, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.”   Mark 5: 21-23

The negotiation went on for years.  Every night there was a bargain made; promises of goodness and devotion offered in exchange for protection.  Although the trading parties involved were unequal, somehow, the deal worked out between a pre-teen and the Creator of the cosmos.

That was, at least, how it played out in my adolescent mind.  At the time, I had convinced myself that if I missed a single night of my transactional prayer, it would have immediate and devastating consequences.  If I stopped my prayers, my beloved Grandpa would die.  Fear motivated and drove my daily devotion.  I had to pray; otherwise, bad things would happen to the ones I loved.     

My fear-filled prayer life began on the night that the paramedics wheeled my lifeless grandfather out the door of my childhood home.  The memories of that day are splotchy at best.  I was around ten years old.

My family spent the day on an outing.  Everyone took part - parents, siblings, an uncle, and my grandparents.  We drove a few hours away to pick dandelions, an essential ingredient for the dandelion wine that we made according to an heirloom recipe.  

Gathering the yellow, flowering weeds was an excellent excuse for a picnic in the country.  By the end of a long day in the sun, we were exhausted.  I probably fell asleep in the car on the way home.  

When we got home, Grandpa had a massive heart attack.  My parents called the local rescue squad - it was in the days before the numbers 9-1-1 meant anything.  The volunteers rushed my grandfather to the Emergency Room of the local hospital.  On the way, they brought him back to life.  

Without question, it was the scariest episode of my waning childhood.  Even though I have lost the details of that night, I remember the fear.  The fear of death lingers after I have forgotten and repressed the rest. 

It was the fear from that night that motivated years of my pleading with God.  Although the messages that I heard from the pulpit on Sundays spoke of a loving God, fear drove my prayer wagon.  

This fear was not the kind of which Martin Luther spoke when he encouraged Christians to love and fear God above all things.  That "fear" is a deep reverence and respect.   When one fears God with heart, mind, and spirit - there is humble adoration.  Love permeates.

The kind of fear that consumed me after Grandpa's heart attack was diabolical.  Instead of love, it sought to dominate and subjugate.  Lacking the grace that allows for freedom, it demanded and held me in bondage.  Either I pray or else.   

When that kind of fear propels our interaction with God, we shift from a love-based relationship to a harsh economic exchange.  Instead of opening our awareness to the gracious presence of God in our lives, it shuts things down.  Barriers pop up that prevent us from receiving the gift that God offers.  

We lapse into thinking that our association with God's blessings depends upon the things we say and do.  Like the Pharisees of old, we look to the proper adherence of rigid laws, traditions, practices as we seek to manipulate divine action for personal benefit.  We enter a bargaining process with the intent of getting the best deal possible for ourselves and the ones we love.

It was different when Jesus prayed.  When you read the gospel stories about Jesus’s ministry, you discover that Jesus prayed often.  For example, in the gospel of Luke, before every major miracle and move, Jesus goes off by himself to pray.  

Although most of the content of these prayers is unwritten, what we do have is filled with a deep humility.  Jesus emptied himself in the presence of God.  For him, prayer was not a request - a shopping list of items needed at the divine grocery - but was a connection.   Through prayer, Jesus opens himself to God’s presence and will.   

I have learned that the more scripted I make my prayers, the less they are about being open to God’s presence.  I try to catch myself when I start to get out my shopping list of things I need God to do for me and for the ones I love.   That is not to say that I don’t share my specific concerns about particular people.  I do.  I just don’t shop at the divine grocery anymore.  

I’ve stopped bargaining and making deals that God ‘can’t refuse.’  After I name the needs that are weighing heavy on my heart, I silence myself.  Trusting in God’s mercy and care for all humanity, including the ones that are dearest to me, I stop talking.  

It is my way of saying, “thy will be done” without saying this oft-used phrase.   The reason I don’t say ‘thy will be done’ - which quotes Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane - is because deep inside myself it lacks authenticity.  My heart is still connected to that adolescent boy who wants things to turn out well.  I would be lying, ninety-percent of the time.  Honest. 

God knows this about me.  How can I really hide from my Creator?  

So I try to keep it real.  I share my deepest concerns and then I ask for God to be present.  In my life and in the life of those I lift up.  I pray for strength and wisdom to meet the fears and fragility of life.  I breathe deeply, allowing each breath to fill my body with the very ruah/pneuma/spirit of God.  I seek the calm and peace which passes all understanding as I enter into silence.  Trusting and waiting in the presence of God, I yearn for the opening of hope’s door.     

Prayer:  

Breath of Life, come. 

Empty the frightened places within my spirit. 

Push away the fears that I have for those that I love. 

I name their names before you now -

(enter the names of those for whom you pray). 

Embrace them with your presence

that they might find strength

in your steadfast love and care. 

Give them wisdom and courage

to meet the challenges that they face this day. 

Replace the fears that fester

within my troubled spirit

that I might instead focus

on doing what I can

to show them my support,

love,

and care. 

Through Christ,

amen.    

© 2020 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

A Guided Meditation For You- A Quilt of Blessings

---

The following comes from the FEAR NOT series and was written by Walt. It is a guided meditation

“Simon answered, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break.”

-Luke 5:5-6

Take a moment to be still.  Settle into the chair on which you are sitting.  Relax.  Take a deep breath.  Allow your lungs to fill with life-giving oxygen.  Receive the gift as did the first human creature in Eden's garden.    

Allow the pneuma - wind- air - the breath of God to enter your body and dwell within.  Deep.  Breathe in, hold it for a moment, then release.  Exhale.  Let out the breath from the depths of your body.   Repeat.  

Dwell, for a while, in the pattern of this most basic of life's rhythms.  In and out.  Life received; life returned.  Back and forth, permit this exchange to move from your unconsciousness to the forefront of your intentions.  

In each breath, God is present.  Life enters your being as a gift that fills and empties your body.  Every time you inhale, you are the recipient of a sacred blessing, a beloved child of your Creator.  When you exhale, you release into the world a contribution that comes from deep within your spirit.

Now, imagine a handmade quilt.  It is substantial and would easily cover a king-size bed.  Each square is different and recalls the best moments of your life.  

Wrap yourself in the warmth of your blanket of blessings— nestle into the quilt with the knowledge that you are beloved.  Smile and let joy join in the pattern of your breathing.  Watch the quit rise and fall as your body expands and deflates.  Beloved, breathe.

Push all the worries and cares of the day aside.  Let the blessings of your life cover you.  Imagine that God has swaddled you.  Like a baby, you can rest in the warmth and protection of your special quilt.

Take a look at the quilt's panels.  What stories do they tell?  What are the tales of the times when you knew you were loved?

Are they from childhood or from a time more recent?  Do they remind you of others?  Whose faces come to mind?  Smile as you receive the gift of each interaction, each blessed memory.  

Allow the memories to come and go on their own—delight in the unique aspects of each.  Beloved, breathe.  You have much for which to be thankful.

Wrapped in a life-time of moments of grace and love, how could you not rejoice?  

Follow the invitation of your thanksgiving.  It beckons you to seek the source of all goodness.   Whose hands stitched such wonders?  Look for Her - from whom all blessings flow.

Mother God - you are the source of my life!  Spirit that enters with each breath - to you, I give glory!  Risen Christ, you resurrect and restore.  Wondrous God, your love embraces me and refuses to let go.  

Wrapped in the blessings of your life, beloved, breathe!

A PRAYER FOR YOU:

Bringer of breath, enter the deepest part of my being.  Fill me with your restoring and resurrecting grace.  Displace my fear with your renewing presence.  Guide me in the flowing movements of your love that I might find the courage to move and think beyond myself. Through Jesus, amen. 

© 2020 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

A Storm on Prior Lake

---

The following comes from the FEAR NOT series and was written by Walt. It is a story from his life.

“But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”  Mark  4 :38

When we left the shore, there was not a cloud in the sky. Our rowboat, equipped with an 18HP Mercury outboard motor, quickly moved us across the water.  My son Noah and I planned to do a little fishing.  We were anxious to get started.   

As you might know, Prior Lake is a good-sized body of water.  It took about fifteen minutes of clipping along at a decent speed to reach the fishing spot, where we had some success a few weeks ago.  

Arriving, we shut down the outboard motor and dropped our anchor.  Within minutes, our lines were baited and wet.  In silence, we waited for the better part of an hour.  As the saying goes, "Ffishing is patience and faith awaiting a nibble."   

Waiting for our first nibble, I noticed that the sky was darkening. After pointing out the advancing weather to Noah, I suggested that we should head back to shore.  The menacing clouds were lightening up the sky with flashes of light.  

Remembering the science lessons of my youth, I began counting—one Mississippi.  Two Mississippi.  Three Mississippi.  And so on.  I counted out an entire minute and never heard the thunder.  We were safe, but the situation was changing rapidly.  

After a few unsuccessful tries, the old Mercury outboard turned over.  With my hand on the tiller, I rotated the handle and brought us up to maximum speed.  Flash.  One Mississippi.  Two Mississippi, etc.   Still safe, however, now I could hear the thunder.  The storm front was heading our way.  We were now in a frantic race to the boat ramp, which was still too far away to see.  

Our boat bounced over the waves.  Until that point, the surface was reasonably calm for such a large body of water.  Now the waves asserted themselves with fierce anger.  They smashed against the side of the aluminum rowboat.  Fighting water and time, we continued to make progress.  Until...

The outboard motor went overboard!  

At first, I didn't see it or realize what was happening.  I was looking ahead, steering in the direction of an unseen boat ramp.  The sound of the motor, however, started to gurgle and whine.  My hand, which was bare knuckling the handle at the end of the tiller, strangely moved backward.  It was like some lake monster grabbed me and was pulling me to the depths of Prior Lake!  

Turning around, I saw that the motor, with the propeller still turning, was no longer attached to the boat.  The only thing connecting it to the vessel was my firm grip.   

The sequence of events that followed is still a little fuzzy in my mind.  Holding on tightly, I twisted the handle, shutting the motor off.  Noah rushed from the bow to help.  We schlepped the heavy outboard into the boat.  

Although we saved the Mercury, our rapid escape stalled.  Shifting to oar-power, we made little progress to the boat ramp.  To make matters worse, the separation between the sky's light and the accompanying boom was now within the danger zone.

Everything happened so fast that I didn't have time to be afraid.  That said, a sure dread prevailed.  In my mind, it was a foregone conclusion - something horrible was going to happen. I lost trust in anything but the worst-case scenario. 

I wonder if that isn't what the disciples felt in the storm on the Sea of Galilee?  On that large lake, they crossed over the threshold of fear into a place of despair and certain doom.  Even though they were seasoned fishers, they lost trust in their ability to survive.  They also lost confidence in God's presence.  It didn't seem like Jesus even cared!

When trust falters, we quickly forget abilities, resources, and relationships.  Fight or flight sets in, and we react.  On auto-pilot, we push through or run away in a frantic way.  Usually, we do this by ourselves.  Alone.  We shut out everyone else - including God.    

At least, that is what I find myself doing.  From experience, it isn't all that pretty or productive.  I overlook solutions, help, and others.  The nightmare only deepens as it seems like I'm never going to see the light of another day.  I forget God's promise always to be near.    

I have come to learn that it is at this point in the downward spiral that I need to stop and take a deep breath. Breathe. Push the panic away.  Breathe.  Reevaluate.  Breathe. Where am I? Breathe. Whose am I?  

Breathe - allow trust in God's presence to seep back into the dehydrated places of my soul.  No longer is the lie of loneliness clanging the bell within my disquieted self.  A new sound emerges.  The truth that God remains in my boat awakens.  God is with me!    

Let's go back to that day on Prior Lake.  Again, the events are somewhat fuzzy.  Somewhere in all the confusion, I took a deep breath.  The panic lessened a bit.  Focus returned in a small but significant measure.  Things became a little clearer: row; look for help.  Confidence eased back as we embraced calm.    

I continued to row as hard as I could.  Noah managed to attract the attention of another boater who was also racing for the shore.  A kind neighbor threw us a tow rope and hauled us to the boat ramp.   

Somehow, we got the boat out of the water before the heavens opened up with wind, rain, and lightning.  Sitting in the parking lot, with a secured boat and motor inside, we sighed relief.  Thank God we were safe!

Although the day could have turned out tragically, it didn't.  The experience restored trust in ourselves and each other.  It also reminded us of the presence of God in challenging times.  God doesn't leave us alone.  Instead of abandoning us, God is as close as our next deep breath.  That presence can calm the stormiest of seas outside and within ourselves.  

A PRAYER FOR YOU:

God of storm and calm,

in the living giving waters of our baptism,

you promised always to be near. 

In my fears,

troubles,

and panic

calm my anxious spirit. 

Help me to take a deep breath

and trust in your steadfast love and presence. 

Through Christ, amen.  

© 2020 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

A Frightened Roman Soldier

The following comes from the FEAR NOT series and was written by Walt. It is a Jesus Story Retold

“After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb.  And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it.  His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow.  For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men.”

-Matthew 28:1-4

Vitus stood with a spear in his fist.  His carefully honed combat vision scanned the horizon of the garden.  With a shield by his side, he was ready for anything that might come his way.  There was a fog floating in the darkness.  Soon it would increase with the arrival of dawn.  From his experience in the Legion, this was the time of day that could open to battle.  Caution was prudent -that is what Vitus's experience and training ingrained into the core of his being.  

Soon, however, this duty would be over.  Somebody said something about watching the tomb until the third day.  Not sure what that rumor meant.  His place wasn't to question orders but to follow them.  Guard the tomb. Period.

While keeping watch, Vitus's mind wandered.  He was so far from home in this strange land.  They seemed to pay only lip service to the Roman pantheon of gods.  Instead of worshiping Jupiter, Neptune, or Pluto, the locals spoke of Yahweh.  Actually, out of deep reverence, they never used their God's name.  Adonai - Lord - those were the only names to come from their lips.  So very strange to believe in one god.  And what a poor god at that!  Nothing about Yahweh seemed to match the might and majesty of Rome.  Friendship with the Roman gods brought power and might.     

Vitus was born in a land far from this conflicted place, where rebellion and revolt festered and would soon erupt.  His homeland was a peaceful place full of lush hillsides that overlooked the Mediterranean Sea.  Although his family wasn't the wealthiest in the region, they did have access to resources.  On the ninth day of life, his parents celebrated.  They gave him a name and a small amulet to wear, which is called a bulla.   The name meant 'vital' or 'life,' and the bulla marked him as freeborn.   Vitus carried both with him as markers of continued blessing.     

His citizenship connected him with others who enjoyed peace, prosperity, and order.  As a Roman soldier, he was joined to his brothers in arms.  Together they shared in and helped to defend the Pax Romana (peace of Rome.)  It was a powerful alliance - unlike any the world had ever known.      

The first signs of light in the sky brought Vitus's attention back to the present.  His ears perked up; two people were approaching the tomb.  Beneath Vitus's chest armor, his heart beat faster - the adrenalin started to flow.     

Just as he was about to shout "halt" at the advancing strangers, Vitus noticed the threat - two women.  He took a deep breath.  They were familiar; Vitus remembered seeing them at the crucifixion.  They watched with all the horror that such an event inspired.  They were the powerless friends of an impotent messiah.  

Suddenly, the earth beneath Vitus's sandals started to tremble.  The intensity of the rumbling increased.  Cracks in the dirt opened.  Dust mingled with the early morning fog.  

Behind the protection of his shield, Vitus looked to the sky from where there came an unnatural light.  By the might of Jupiter!  What was going on?  Some heavenly being descended from on high.   

At that point, Vitus felt all of his strength dissipate.  For the first time in his life, he lost his firm grip on both shield and spear.  Both of these bronze weapons of war crashed to the ground.  Vitus followed as his legs collapsed beneath him; he couldn't move.  It was as though he was a dead man.  But who struck him down?   What unseen powers attacked the power of Rome?

Looking up from the ground, unable to move, Vitus could see the women.  They faced a heavenly being, who shone like the sun.  The fear in their eyes matched the fear in his heart.   

"Do not be afraid!" spoke the mysterious figure to the women.  "You are looking for Jesus who was crucified, he is not here - he is risen!"  The tomb, which Vitus had guarded, was now empty.

The resurrection of the dead?  Paralyzed Roman guards?  The only ones worthy to stand were a pair of women who followed the tortured preacher who suffered a shameful death?   Courage in the face of suffering and despair?  How could such things be?

What kind of God was this Yahweh that he would befriend the likes of them?    

Immobilized, Vitus pondered.  In the grip of a fear larger than any he ever faced on a battlefield, he experienced real power for the first time in his life.  He was alone.

A PRAYER FOR YOU:

Gracious God, through the life of Jesus we find ourselves in friendship with you.  Thank you for the blessing that comes from this life-giving relationship.  Give me the strength to trust in my connection with you so that I might share your love with others.  Through Jesus, amen.   

---

© 2020 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

Don’t worry ‘bout a ting…

The following comes from the FEAR NOT series and was written by Walt. It is a Jesus Story Retold

“And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?  If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest?  Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.”   

-Luke 12: 25-27

Don't worrrie 'bout a ting, cuz evy 'lil ting is gonna be all rite... Marley's words dance with a Jamaican rhythm through my soul. It is about time to get out my summer, 'beach' playlist. Filled with catchy melodies and smooth sounds, this digital collection of tunes is an annual favorite. It fits the mood of summertime when the living is easy.  

I'm not sure how it is going to sound this year.  

Already the coronavirus has done so much damage. It has displaced students and shopkeepers. Overnight some folks were declared to be "non-essential," and others heard the word 'furlough' for the first time in decades of working.  

As the number of infections and deaths continue to rise, COVID-19 also wreaks havoc on our ego and self-worth. It is especially true in a culture that places such a high value on money. Normally, we are focused on what people do to 'earn a living' and on their ability to spend without restraint. Our worth, at least according to worldly standards, is linked directly to the size of our bank accounts. We equate success with how much money we have and all the stuff that it can buy us.  

Value linked to currency is nothing new for the human creature. It is a phenomenon not restricted to capitalism either. Back in the days of Jesus's earthly ministry, there were no capitalists or socialists. These economic systems were centuries away from being invented. There was, however, wealth.  

The 'golden rule' was in effect; those with the gold make the rules. Some things never change. With wealth came power and prestige. Not everyone was equally valued. Life had a price tag attached. People also linked wealth with divine favor. God blessed the rich with many good things. The poor were somehow morally deficient or seen as not as valuable. Some of these ideas persist in our time.  

Jesus brought different ideas about wealth, value, and the blessing of God. The good news that he proclaimed turned things upside down. Worth came not from silver or gold - it was the gift of God. You couldn't earn God's favor and its accompanying value. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't buy blessings. Instead, God lavished love, forgiveness, and life itself on all people. Both poor and rich had worth because God said it was so!

It was a hard message for the rich and powerful of Jesus's day to comprehend. They couldn't understand how such things could be possible. It was like trying to squeeze a camel through the eye of a needle - impossible! Even the good, holy people of the time couldn't get their heads around such teaching. It seemed to go against everything that they knew about how the world works.  

We continue to struggle with the truth of Jesus's preaching. Golden rules and worldly wisdom continue to dictate worthiness and value. It is hard to get over centuries of 'common sense' - so ingrained are the lessons of our childhood. We miss truly hearing what Jesus has to say - and it hurts our spirits. Our vision is clouded by worldly understandings of worth when we look into the mirror or at our neighbor in need.  

Perhaps it is time for some healing? What would it look like if we stopped seeing dollar signs when we think about the worth of ourselves and others?  

Imagine resting in God's worth. Feel the comfort of not having to do, earn, spend, or bargain. You are beloved - because God says you are worth more than all the sparrows, lilies, gold, and account balances. Period. Let me say that again - you have worth because you are a child of God. What is more, so does your neighbor.    

As scientists search for vaccines and medical professionals wage their war against this virus, might it also be a time for us to seek additional health for our souls? Might we use this opportunity to focus on what matters most? Can we get some clarity around our values and align them with those of Jesus?   

Perhaps is it time for us to sing a different song about what is most important?  What would it look like to allow the rhythms and dance of God’s sweet sounds to move heart and limbs.  Beloved by God we are worthy, loved, and of priceless value.  Entering that beat we don’t have nu-ting to worrie ‘bout…  evry ‘lil ting is gonna be all rite.   

A PRAYER FOR YOU:

Gracious God, I am exhausted by more worries than I can count.  Many times I have come to doubt my worth or place in this world.  When I am overwhelmed, allow me to stop and take a deep breath.  Allow me to believe your word about the value of my life.  Let me dwell in being your beloved child.  Through Christ, amen.

---

© 2020 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

A Frightened Disciple Who Wanted Proof

The following comes from the FEAR NOT series and was written by Walt. It is a Jesus Story Retold

“Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”  John 14:27

In the windows of the holy city, tiny oil lamps leaked beams of light that cut through the dark at strange angles.  Thomas needed none of them.  He knew where he was going as he walked with confidence through the streets of Jerusalem.  

If only his inner spirit could match his external steps.  Thomas's heart was troubled deeply.  And he was afraid.  Thomas would have scoffed if you told him two weeks ago that he would be sneaking out at night to avoid detection from the authorities.  

But, they killed Jesus!  They arrested him in the shadows of that garden a few miles away.  The 'trial' and crucifixion was a mockery of everything holy. If they did that to Jesus, who was loved by the masses, the disciples did not doubt that a similar fate awaited them.  They were the unimportant remnants of God's kingdom.  

Fear canceled all their carefully laid plans.  Now, they shuffled back and forth to their secret hideout with thoughts only of survival.   

As Thomas quietly ascended the exterior staircase in the alleyway, Jesus’s promise to be with them always made less sense now then it did two weeks ago.  Where was that peace that keeps fear at bay?  Instead of peace, doubt and uneasiness troubled his heart.  

Thomas reached the second story and paused outside a heavy wooden door.  It was locked.  Glancing from side to side, making sure he remained alone, his thoughts wandered again.

It was just a week ago, within that very same locked room, that the rest of them 'saw' Jesus.  They touched the scars and experienced resurrection.  Impossible.  Such things pushed the boundary of belief beyond where Thomas was able to go.  He would believe, could believe, but he would need to see it for himself.  

With a closed fist, Thomas knocked on the door.  A voice spoke from behind the barrier.  After an exchange of passwords, the door creaked open.  Thomas slid inside.  

Entering the room and unfastening his outer cloak, Thomas heard the sound of the latching of the door.  He was locked in a dimly lit room.  Thomas's sarcastic-side kicked in.  Christ is Risen!  He couldn't bring himself to utter the words.   Some resurrection this was!  He stepped over the outstretched limbs of the lifeless disciples as he made his way to a corner of the room.  Finding an open space against the wall, Thomas turned around and settled down.

Just then, the room brightened with inexplicable light!  Arms went to shield eyes.  Thomas rose.  In the middle of the room, adorned with the sun's luster, stood a figure.  Blinking to adjust his eyes, Thomas focused.  Was that?  No, it couldn't be?  Yes! It was Jesus!

Stillness and calm, beyond all understanding, permeated the locked chamber. "Peace be with you!" A comforting presence met Thomas's fears at the core of his being.  Breathing deeply - no longer did his heart seem troubled.  

A PRAYER FOR YOU:

Gracious and loving God, there are times when it is hard to believe.  So much goes on that makes me doubt.  I am afraid and need Easter to be more than a holiday on a calendar.  Be near in my uncertainty and uneasiness.  Let me stop and breathe deeply of your presence.  Fill me with Easter hope that I might catch a glimpse of your gift of resurrected life.  Through Jesus, amen.   

---

© 2020 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

Worship with Everything Ya Got!

The following comes from Walt’s book, Lighting Your Way, With Love

Hiking out of a canyon can be exhausting.  At the start of the journey, when you have your most energy and enthusiasm, you go down the trail.  Gravity helps.  Though the descent can be tough on your knees and calves, the rest of your body willingly participates in going deeper.  But you must exercise caution and restraint.  There is a truism that canyon hikers extol: what goes down must come up!   

On your way out of the natural ditch, the task is exponentially harder.  Now tired, you need to reach deep within yourself.  On the hike back up, when gravity is not your friend, you have to summon strength and focus with your whole body, mind, and spirit—all ya got!   

There is a similar experience at the end of a long-distance race.  You get tired after running for a couple of miles.  Your strength wanes.  For that final push to the finish line, you need to concentrate and find the courage to keep going.   

When life changes on us, the journey metaphors of canyon hiking and distance running are highly applicable.  Grief, which always comes when we lose the people and patterns of life that are familiar to us, makes a body weary.  We are en route to a new place, but the canyon rim or finish line is still far off.  The struggle tempts us to stop and not go any further.  But we can't quit.  So we press on through the general confusion and uncertainty of being in a place where things are different.  Amidst it all, making decisions can be a particular challenge. 

My experiences with distance running and canyon hiking have taught me that when a trail requires me to make difficult decisions at a moment’s notice, I need to rely on my inner sense of right and wrong.  I need to make a quick withdrawal from my ethics bank.   

Shared social values, natural law, experience, and generally accepted moral principles all come together to form our ethics.  As Christians, our faith also plays a critical role.  Although a constant work in progress, ethics are more fixed than not.  We may apply a particular ethic in different ways, depending on a situation.  Still, ethics are not easily changed based on a whim or even a feeling.  Ethics guide us; they are among the few constants in our life.   

In each chapter of this book, I will hold up a different ethical principle that can not only help drive our decisions but also inform our sense of right and wrong.  Since we are focusing in this chapter on God, it is fitting that our first driving ethic centers on the foundational relationship that we have with God.   

God created us and gave us life.  Scripture invites our proper response to be “all in.”  As the created, we are expected to worship the Creator with all that we have.  It lies at the heart of all the commandments: Love the LORD your God with all your heart, mind, and soul.  In short, let all your being give praise and acknowledge God as God.   

When we do this, we recognize our place in the big picture.  We are not God, nor are we at the center of the universe.  This understanding drives an ethic that refuses to elevate our needs and concern above all others.  We are part of a more massive creation.  Our wants are not placed above all other desires (or needs) because we think that would be a good idea.  We are not the end of every means, nor are we the means of every end.   

When we put God at the center, our ethics and decision making are no longer stuck on what is best for us.  With humility, we seek to honor God.  With thanksgiving, we acknowledge that life is full of blessings that we can only correctly understand as gifts.  With acts of worship, we orient ourselves in a right relationship with our Creator. 

At the moment we find ourselves in the heat of a day, or at the breaking point of a journey, our pretensions of being at the center of the universe fade away.  Through frailty, imperfections, exhaustion, and vulnerability we claim our place as creatures of a loving God.  We seek entrance into a right relationship with God and discover that not only does that relationship already exist, but God has already been carrying us along.

A PRAYER FOR YOU:

Gracious God, give me the wisdom to worship you above all things.  Guide my actions so that I might give all I have in praise of you.  Help me when I struggle to make a decision.  Let me consider others before myself.  Empower my response, generosity, compassion, and kindness. Through Jesus Christ, amen.   

---

Today’s reading comes from Walt’s first book, Lighting Your Way, With Love. He wrote it on the occasion of his son leaving for college. It is a devotional book about transitions, faith, and living as a child of God.

$15.99

Quantity:

Purchase

© 2019 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

Compassion

The following comes from Walt’s book, Lighting Your Way, With Love

Living in Minnesota, I have learned that ice is a formidable foe.  During my first winter in this northern clime, I made the rookie mistake of leaving a case of soda pop in the trunk of my car overnight.  In the morning, the back of my vehicle looked like a crime scene.  There was sticky, slushy residue everywhere, littered with empty, distorted cans.  What a mess! 

At times, our environment can be unforgiving and downright harsh.  Transitions can be especially tricky.  Familiar comforts or people may no longer be available to help us through our challenges.  It might feel as though we are suddenly alone and without a clear idea of what we should do next.  It is here that our values come into play and can play a guiding role.   

Values are the principles by which we live.  They guide, inspire, and direct us because they are the things that we hold most dear.  We aspire to live in this way because we know that it leads to something more significant.  Everyone has a set of values—even scoundrels and villains.  Experience, faith, family, and culture all participate, over time, in shaping our values.  Wisdom remembers and applies these principles to a variety of situations.  Paradoxically, values need to be flexible enough to fit changing circumstances, yet fixed enough to offer clear direction.   

Spiritual or faith-based values emerge from the Wisdom of God.  Gleaned from the pages of scripture and nurtured within the context of Christian community, spiritual values provide a type of connecting tissue between people of faith.  Core Christian values are the ones that appear—or should appear—in the personal value systems of those who follow Christ.   

Compassion is one such value.  It grows out of God's hesed (remember that God-word from earlier in this chapter?).  Psalm 145:8-10 puts it well: "The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. The LORD is good to all, and his compassion is over all that he has made. All your works shall give thanks to you, O LORD, and all your faithful shall bless you." 

God has compassion on us.  Despite our imperfect tendencies to stray, misbehave, become distracted, and focus inward, God's heart goes out to us.  Compassion means, literally, "with passion or love."  God's love holds us in orbit and refuses to let us go.  Divine compassion fuels God's acts of forgiveness, healing, redemption, and restoration.  Jesus's ministry demonstrated as much.  More than once, scripture tells us that Jesus had compassion for the hungry, broken-hearted, and suffering people (see Matt. 9:36;14:14; 15:32;20:34; Mk 6:34; 8:2; Lk 7:13; 15:20.)  What is more, Jesus's compassion drives his response.  He reaches out, acknowledges, cares for, and heals us. 

If compassion lies at the heart of God's dealing with us, then it is a value of great worth and something for us to not only treasure but also to emulate.  When we put compassion in a central place in our value system, we are taking steps to walk in the wisdom of God. 

In a harsh and cold world, where things burst apart without much care, compassion is sorely needed.  Compassion opens the heart to the breaks and fissures of those around us that we might too readily pass over in our daily scurry.  We see with subversive eyes that dare to view life as it is, beyond the illusions, deceptions, and sugar coating of a culture that lusts after perfection. 

It needs mentioning that this isn't easy, and can even be dangerous.  Courage is required because when we open our hearts, we become vulnerable to the pain and suffering of others.  To do this, we have to cast off the protective coating of our hearts, which leaves them susceptible to being broken and made heavy by the burdens of a hurting world.  Once we see, we can't avoid responding.  Compassion may start in our heart, but soon it is directing our hands and feet to action.  We become a part of God's work of restoration and healing. 

Claiming compassion as a core value during a time of transition can have an added benefit: it can be a source of new purpose and direction.  Seeing the needs of others with our hearts and then reaching out to them with acts of kindness can open new possibilities.  Instead of being alone, we will find ourselves in community with others in a way that we've never been before.

A PRAYER FOR YOU:

Gracious God, the source of all compassion, your love is steadfast and endless.  You reach out to a hurting world with healing that passes all understanding.  Be present in my heart this day so that I might see through the lens of love.  Strengthen my failing courage so that I might be humble and vulnerable enough to connect with those who are struggling and in need.  Allow your compassion to embolden my response.  Through Jesus Christ, amen.  

---

Today’s reading comes from Walt’s first book, Lighting Your Way, With Love. He wrote it on the occasion of his son leaving for college. It is a devotional book about transitions, faith, and living as a child of God.

$15.99

Quantity:

Purchase

© 2019 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

Beyond the God of Your Box

The following comes from Walt’s book, Lighting Your Way, With Love

So, how big is your God?   

It might seem like a silly question. Indeed, God is vast, grander than the cosmos: eternal and all.  God doesn't fit in a box.  Anybody knows that, or at least anybody who believes in God.   

Try this follow up question: Is there anything God can't do or won't do?  If I could pursue this line of inquiry with you for long enough, I'm guessing we'd eventually bump into a boundary or limitation.  Each of us has, consciously or otherwise, drawn some sort of line in the sand that we can't imagine God crossing. God loves everyone but ___________  (fill in the blank).   

Using the building materials of our understanding of scripture, tradition, our family of origin, or life itself, we have each constructed a box in which we house our image of God.    

From my experience in talking with a lot of people about their faith, our image of God is as big as the box that we've constructed to preserve, protect, and house our holy thoughts.  It is also my experience that whenever we attempt to squeeze God into a confined space, we run into problems.   

There is a temptation to go to war with others whose God boxes are different.  There is also a tendency to domesticate God into irrelevance—converting the divine into a trinket that looks nice on a shelf but doesn't make much of a difference in the way we live.  Either way, Jesus was never meant to be in a coffin.  Neither was the Creator of the heavens, earth, and the cosmos.  

A critical step on the road to a healthy spiritual life involves acknowledging that we can't escape our predisposition to box in God.  Further, all boxing attempts border on blasphemy.  Whenever we construct walls around God, no matter how pious or authorized our intentions, we are trying to create God in our image.  It moves in the direction of playing God, and it is a sure recipe for disaster.   

Our boxes—whether they are gold or cardboard—can never take the place of God.  Idols will always fall short, no matter how well we have constructed them.  In the face of our biggest challenges, we may discover a disconcerting truth: boxed gods are silent and powerless.  Stop.  Repent.  Turn away from the box.   

Here is where our spiritual imagination can play a helpful role.  Imagine the God that freely lives beyond conventions, restrictions, traditions, limitations, or boundaries.  Dream.  Envision.  What if we were to tear down one of the walls of our boxes?  What new perspectives would we gain about God? 

Turning our imaginations loose might seem way too chaotic for most folks.  This may especially be the case for those who are in a time of transition in life.  Why would we want to encourage more unease and mess?  Wouldn't it be better to turn to our more familiar images of God, like the ones we grew up with on the walls of our childhood Sunday school classrooms?  Shouldn't we return to the tried and true treasures of the past? 

When we are in need of the living God, nostalgia offers but a small comfort.  Sentimentality is no better.  Past images might be quaint, but they can be a source of further confinement.   

Gaining a historical perspective can help us in our imaginative quest for God, but it cannot be the goal or purpose of that search. Merely going back to our god of yesteryear will leave us ill-equipped for the challenges facing us in an ever-changing present.  Instead of dusting off old containers, a better choice is to find the courage to open our boxes. 

When we seek God beyond fixed images and small boxes, we allow our spirit to open at its widest point.  In that place where we find ourselves unable to speak, or even think, we can only trust.  Faith alone navigates these waters with a childlike acceptance.  I may not get remotely close to the expansive, hidden essence of the Divine Presence.  But that is okay.  I don't need to unravel all mysteries.  God is with me and knows my being to the very core.  God's spirit is as close as my next breath.  Nothing can separate or box me out.  There are no limitations to God's love.  No boxes.  

A PRAYER FOR YOU:

Gracious God, create in me an active imagination that remains open to your presence, which remains beyond my attempts to control and contain. Through Jesus Christ, amen. 

---

Today’s reading comes from Walt’s first book, Lighting Your Way, With Love. He wrote it on the occasion of his son leaving for college. It is a devotional book about transitions, faith, and living as a child of God.

$15.99

Quantity:

Purchase

© 2019 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

The Way of a Patient Gardener

The following comes from Walt’s book, Lighting Your Way, With Love

Jesus tells a parable about an unfruitful tree (Luke 13:6-9.)  The story goes like this: The owner of a vineyard plants a fig tree.  For three years, each time he checks the tree, he encounters the same result—no figs!  In his anger and frustration, he calls the gardener and demands that he cut down the tree.  The gardener asks for the chance to further nurture the tree, and for more time.  If after a year it still doesn't produce, the gardener reasons, then he’ll cut it down.  Of course, we never find out what happens to the fig tree.   

In classic parable style, we are left to wonder: Did the tree finally produce fruit?  Did the gardener use his ax?  Or did he go another round begging the owner to be patient?  We will only know the answer if we continue the story in our imagination. 

How patient are we with the unproductive fig trees in our own lives?  Do we demand results or else?  Do we follow our culture's impatience and quickly move on when something no longer suits our needs, taps our emotions, or increases our bank account?   

How big is your discard pile?  Were you to root through the things that you have chopped down and cut off, what would you find?  Relationships. Dreams.  Diets.  Interests.  God?  Would your pile bear witness to patient restraint or insatiable consumption? 

The size of our pile, its contents, and the rate at which we contribute to it all reveal something about our spiritual nature.  Are we patient?  Do we tolerate imperfection and work toward long-term growth?  Or are we dismissive?  Do we demand instant gratification?    

Beyond such self-focused questions are those that point to our understanding of God.  Is God patient?  Does God tolerate our imperfection and lack of growth?  Or is God ready to cut down, discard, and move elsewhere?  Do we imagine God to be the impatient vineyard owner or the hopeful gardener? 

Jesus tells this story in the context of his overall teaching about God's expansive love.  God's heart, according to Jesus, beats fervently in the direction of a broken and hurting world.  God seeks restoration and renewal of all life not by demanding it, but rather by inviting it.  Instead of forcing change, Jesus encourages repentance (a turning toward God) and faith (a trusting in God) as a path toward abundance, joy, and life.  The steadfast nature of both God's character and Jesus's approach is infinitely patient, long-suffering, and expectant.   

From this perspective, I wonder if God isn't the ultimate and most hopeful of gardeners.  Even though we don't produce any expected fruits, God refuses to employ an ax.  In place of chopping, God gets down and works the dirt, adding additional fertilizer.  Where there is life, there is still hope for growth and change.  God does not assess worth on the basis of production but rather on the relationship that God established with all creation.  In short, God remains faithful to us no matter what.  God will keep on being patient and looking forward to future fruit.   

What might it mean for us to think of God as a patient and expectant gardener?  It certainly challenges the image of God as an angry, heavenly judge that is heartlessly waiting for us to mess up.  Many people retain some version of this in their working theology, and it generates unhealthy, paralyzing guilt.  Negative understandings of God fuel fear and, in the long term, cause us to turn away.  To know, in our spirit, that God loves us and desires our growth is liberating.  Love pushes fear and guilt to the sidelines, allowing each of us the freedom to become the person God created us to be in the first place. 

It might also make us pause as we reach for our axes.  Instead of cutting others to the quick, we can choose a different path.  Like the God who created us, we can decide to be patient.  Breathing in the grace of God, we can divert from our anger-laden responses that destroy relationships and future interactions.  As we exercise restraint, we are moving in the direction of repentance.  It is a conscious turn toward God and away from our base instincts.  Although it may seem like more trouble for us in the short run, traveling in the path of Jesus always leads to life.

A PRAYER FOR YOU:

Gracious God, you continue to love a wayward creation obsessed with immediate results.  Your patience with us, with me, is pure grace.  Let me both dwell in this gift and let it slow me down as I respond to others.  Fashion in me a patient spirit that seeks to nurture rather than destroy.  Guide me to live in alignment with your constant love. Through Jesus Christ, amen. 

---

Today’s reading comes from Walt’s first book, Lighting Your Way, With Love. He wrote it on the occasion of his son leaving for college. It is a devotional book about transitions, faith, and living as a child of God.

$15.99

Quantity:

Purchase

© 2019 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

Hesed

The following comes from Walt’s book, Lighting Your Way, With Love

It didn't take a skilled pastoral listener to perceive the agony and anguish in his soul.  Although it was almost twenty-five years ago, I can clearly see the nervous wringing of his hands as he sat before me.  How could I forget?  It was a few months into my pastoral internship in Utica, New York.  "Wet behind the ears" doesn't fully capture my inexperience, both in matters of life and spirit; I was twenty-four years old and had only five semesters of seminary training.  I had no prior—or subsequent—contact with the middle-aged man who sat opposite me on a folding chair in my closet-sized office, but he left an indelible impression.   

He was in full spiritual crisis.  Despite his multiple efforts at denial and restraint, he couldn't escape his secret identity.  The Christian community where he worshipped, where he felt loved and had close friends, labeled homosexuality as an abomination, a sin above all sins, a cause of shame, and grounds for immediate dismissal.  What was he to do?  If only they knew, his friends would undoubtedly shun him. 

To make matters worse, I found out through gentle questioning that in his heart he agreed with the judgment of his church.  Based on his rigid interpretation of a few verses of an ancient holiness code (which, by the way, also abolished the eating of shrimp), God damned his sexual orientation to eternal punishment.  So fixed on God's wrath and sternness was this tormented soul's working theology that grace, forgiveness, and love were unavailable to him.   

As I sat across from him, my working theology wasn't much better.  It would be years before I would uncover a critical aspect of God's nature—the theological concept of hesed—and place it at the heart of my pastoral care and the center of my life of faith. 

Hesed is a Hebrew word that appears 248 times in the Bible that Jesus read.  You can translate it in a variety of ways, including great mercy, kindness, loving kindness, and even goodness.  It bears a sense of eager and ardent desire or zeal.  Hesed is used to describe the relationships between people.  It can also define the connection between God and people.  Hesed is mutually beneficial and filled with grace or favor.   

Time and again we read in scripture (especially in the book of Psalms) that hesed is part of God's nature.  God is full of mercy, goodness, grace, and loving kindness.  Hesed is how God relates to us and all of God’s broken creation.  What is more, God's hesed is a passionate endeavor.  God keeps at it, despite the unfaithfulness and lack of hesed on the part of humanity.   

We find numerous examples of hesed illustrated in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.  Jesus is all about compassion, grace, generosity, acceptance, and hospitality.  All these attributes emerge from and are supported by Jesus's application of hesed.  

When you put hesed at the center of your working theology, something incredible happens.  It causes the brimstone and frightening ideas about God to fade.  In their place emerges a compassionate God who is madly in love with creation.  "The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love (Psalm 145:8)."  God is full of hesed, not anger, judgment, or hatred. 

Further, God is not out to get us, waiting for us to slip up or fail.  Instead, God is ever-present to support, guide, comfort, and love us.  Our proper response is not anxious fear but grateful adoration. 

When hesed defines God's identity in your working theology, you gain the freedom to love without needing to worry about whether you are getting it right.  You are free to be the person God created you to be, without trying to contort yourself into a box that deforms, limits, shames, and disregards.  It is not a license to do whatever you want.  Rather, it is an invitation to engage in acts of loving kindness and mercy of your own. 

Perhaps the most profound examples of hesed that I've seen have come from family members who care for a dying loved one.  Their hesed humbles me as they go above and beyond, tending to not only the emotional but also the physical needs of their parent or spouse.   

In my home, I watched my wife, Katie, care for her mom, Judi, in her last days.  As Judi's body lost function, Katie's became stronger in her care.  Although it certainly took a toll on Katie, she managed to carry on through the ordeal with grace and compassion.  Judi received this gift and was able to rest knowing that she was deeply loved.  That is how hesed works. 

That is also why hesed deserves a place at the heart of your and my thinking about God.  When we allow hesed to displace thoughts of wrath and judgment, a new space of possibilities opens in our spirit.  God's steadfast love, mercy, goodness, and loving kindness push fear, despair, insecurity, and anxiety to the side.  This movement, and the space it creates, comes as the graceful acts of a Spirit that walks with us down paths as yet untrodden, through perils and possibilities unknown.

A PRAYER FOR YOU:

Gracious God, you abound in steadfast love.  Your mercy is more abundant than my biggest failure.  You love me even when I'm not so lovable.  You remain with me even when I don't want to be with myself.  Give me the wisdom and strength to rest in your hesed.  Empower me in my weakness to emulate your kindness and compassion in all my living so that I may walk in your ways.  Through Jesus Christ, amen.   

---

Today’s reading comes from Walt’s first book, Lighting Your Way, With Love. He wrote it on the occasion of his son leaving for college. It is a devotional book about transitions, faith, and living as a child of God.

$15.99

Quantity:

Purchase

© 2019 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

It Takes Practice

The following comes from Walt’s book, Lighting Your Way, With Love

I learned to juggle when I was in college.  It took a while for me to keep three objects in the air without dropping them.  I had to learn a pattern and the discipline of sticking to it.  Eventually, though, as long as I could safely toss it, catch it, and it was round, I could juggle it: balls, apples, oranges, etc.  I even learned a few tricks and a juggling routine, complete with comedy when I dropped something.  Juggling was and continues to be a fun thing to do that entertains children of all ages, myself included.   

It wasn't too long after I had mastered the basics that I decided I wanted to graduate to clubs in addition to juggling round objects.  Clubs, which look like bowling pins on a diet, are the mainstay of any juggler.  I already knew the criss-cross pattern of tossing and catching.  Further, whenever I spun a club in the air, the extended handle portion seemed to come right back into my hand.  How hard could juggling clubs be?  Famous last question.   

I took a beginner set of clubs, which I’d received as a gift, into the spare bedroom of the house and closed the door.  What followed wasn't pretty.  I'm glad that most of what transpired remains a suppressed memory.  I do recall having to spread an old sleeping bag over the furniture to protect it.  It took weeks of practice in that "padded" room before I finally got it.  Practice, persistence, perspiration—I needed all three. 

It wasn't enough to know the theory of juggling (the toss-catch pattern) or how to spin a club so that it would land in my hand correctly.  It took the hard work of actually doing it over and over before I gained any proficiency.  

So it goes with the spiritual life.  It is one thing to know that God loves you, accompanies you through the ups and downs of life, and wants you to live peaceably with others.  It is another to practice your faith so that head, heart, and hands (the old 4-H mantra) connect in a fluid movement.  Faith takes hard work.   

Sadly, I've seen too many people leave their faith unpracticed.  When difficulty strikes, an unpracticed faith is not all that great a resource.  It is hard to turn to your spiritual core when you are not that all that familiar with it.         

To be sure, working on our faith is not required for God to love us.  The Bible teaches us that God's love is grace-centered and comes to us apart from our work.  The unearned mercy of God, filled with forgiveness and steadfast faithfulness, remains foundational for Christians.  That said, without practice, faith becomes unreal for us.  There is a marked difference between owning a set of juggling clubs and being able to juggle.   

As I think about navigating transitional times in life, the importance of practicing our faith comes to the forefront.  How do we exercise and engage what we know and believe to be true?  What daily connections might we make to the God who remains close at hand?  How do we make the truth of the Gospel truth for us, so that we lean into it and take refuge within? 

Back to juggling.  The most basic juggling involves handling three objects in an established pattern.  Of course, professional jugglers can manipulate many more balls, clubs, or rings and can even set them on fire!  But let's take the simple route for starters.  What three aspects of faith could we juggle on a daily basis that would serve to strengthen us spiritually?   

I suggest that we focus on values, ethics, and prayer.  Each of these foci interacts with a different relational sphere.  Values make up personal integrity.  Ethics is the application of our faith in our dealings with others and the world.  Prayer is communication with God.  Throughout the chapters of this devotional book, we will spend time with each.  We will look at some patterns and practices.  We'll struggle with some open-ended questions.  The goal is to enter into intentional living based on what we hold as spiritual truth.   

My son, Noah, who is very much in my heart as I write this book, knows how to juggle.  A long time ago, I taught the basic "toss-catch" pattern to him and his brother.  They can each do it with varying degrees of success.  In addition to balls and clubs, Noah can also work the Diablo.  This juggling apparatus looks like a giant yo-yo.  I got one in my early years of juggling and could never quite get it to work.  Noah, however, picked the Diablo up and made it his own.  He can entertain you for about ten minutes with an elaborate series of interlocking skills.  

Before heading out to university, he had to go to the juggling store and learn a new trick to take with him.  Among all the things he packed for school were his Diablo and yo-yos (he is also proficient with them).  Knowing him, he is using his free time, maybe even between classes, to develop his skills.   

Practice doesn't make perfect (perfection is an unattainable fool's errand), but it does let us engage, live, grow, and thrive.  It takes time, effort, and work—but it's worth it.  It helps us gain confidence, strength, and familiarity.  Good things to have with us whenever we try to juggle.  Priceless essentials when it comes to our faith.  

A PRAYER FOR YOU:

Gracious God, be present in the midst of the busy and crazy moments of life.  When everything seems topsy-turvy, unclear, and strange, remind me of your great love.  Ground me in your grace.  Give me the wisdom to take things one at a time.  Guide me in your ways.  Renew my courage to trust in you.  Through Jesus Christ, amen.  

---

Today’s reading comes from Walt’s first book, Lighting Your Way, With Love. He wrote it on the occasion of his son leaving for college. It is a devotional book about transitions, faith, and living as a child of God.

$15.99

Quantity:

Purchase

© 2019 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

A Space for Our Spirits to Grow

The following comes from Walt’s book, Lighting Your Way, With Love

It was a beautiful day.  The sky was a cerulean blue with scattered, wispy clouds.  I walked along the top of a prairie ridge.  Grasses yielded to the gentle pressure of a refreshing wind.  It was hard to take it all in.  Such simplicity.  Calm.  In reverence, I admired the timeless artistry of nature.  I wondered: Is this what heaven is like? 

Imagination.  It is an indescribable gift that helps us to see with an inner vision.  When we imagine something, we look beyond the constraints and limitations of the present.  New possibilities and directions can suddenly emerge as we tap into our creative selves.   

At this point, you might be asking: What does imagination have to do with faith?  Doesn’t faith deal with certainties and unwavering belief?  Isn’t the gift of faith God’s doing in our lives; evidence that the Spirit is working in our spirits enabling us to believe?  What do creativity and imagination have to do with that? 

As a Lutheran pastor, I think one of the most brilliant things that Martin Luther ever wrote was his explanation of the Third Article of the Apostle’s Creed: “I believe that by my own reason or strength I cannot believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to him.  But the Holy Spirit has called me through the Gospel, enlightened me with his gifts, and sanctified and preserved me in true faith, just as he calls, gathers, enlightens, and sanctifies the whole Christian church on earth and preserves it in union with Jesus Christ in the one true faith (Martin Luther, Small Catechism).”  

A quick read of this foundational Lutheran teaching, that our faith comes as a graceful gift and is not of our doing, might seem to say that faith is a fixed entity.  What else could “true faith” be?  Either we believe and have faith, or we don’t.  It’s cut and dry.  Black and white. 

Though I don't doubt that you can interpret that passage in a fixed, immovable manner, I’m not sure that such an approach is, ironically, all that faithful.  Let me explain.  The Gospel of Jesus Christ is one of liberation, redemption, and reconciliation (how many three-syllable “holy” words can I fit into a sentence?)  In short, the story of Jesus’s life is about freedom, establishing a new and right relationship between a loving God and a hurting people.   

Love becomes an expanding boundary.  The Spirit moves in the direction of our hearts and opens a space for God to dwell within.  Each of our spirits becomes fertile ground whence love can grow organically.  This is not a one-size-fits-all proposition.   

From the experience of parenting two very distinct sons, I know that my approach with each is a little different.  Although I love them both with all my heart, my relationship with each reflects his individual interests, needs, and dreams.  At times, it can be hard to make sure that I am even-handed and balanced.  Still, it is worth it.  I couldn't force a single way of relating upon my relationships with my boys.  Imposing any kind of constructed "universal" parenting method would ignore their particular natures.   

When the Spirit moves in our lives, it comes to each of us to work faith within our hearts that is as distinctive as our fingerprints and favorite flavor of ice cream.  Sure, this is the same love of God that created the cosmos and sent Jesus to live and die among us.  It is the same eternal love.  And it is also profoundly personal.  God connects with me and my faith in a way that is slightly different from the manner in which God relates to you.   

When we exercise our spiritual imaginations, we make ourselves available to both the expansive love that God has for all creation and the unique love God has for us.  We might wonder how such things can be.  Where can we experience such wondrous love?  What is that love calling us to do in response?  These are all open-ended questions that can spark a variety of creative answers.  Which are correct?  Is there such a thing as a wrong answer?  What if we find the solutions that we generate to be different from those of others?  

As a Christian, I will always look to the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus as a guide.  Do my creative faith-thoughts line up with the love of Christ?  If so, then maybe I am connecting in a new way with God's Spirit.  If not, then perhaps I just have a terrible case of indigestion.   

I will also test the product of my imagination against the witness of scripture within the context of a broader faith community.  Being creative in your faith doesn't mean anything goes.  At times, we will need to check ourselves, lest we start creating God in our own image.  That said, believing "outside the box" is a sign that we are engaging in our relationship with the living God in such a way that God is creating all things new.   

Back to that beautiful day that I experienced on a prairie ridge.  On days like that, I am filled with wonder that reaches deep within my spirit.  Such days help to crack open my stagnant ideas about God, faith, and life.  Space is created from the inside out to be a different person.  Using our God-given imagination to cultivate the soil that finds its way into that space holds great promise for growth.  In times of transition, as we seek to embrace new realities, this is indeed a gift from God.

A PRAYER FOR YOU:

Gracious God, you are beyond my grandest imagination.  You exceed my wonder.  Out of your expansive nature, you create and dream life into being.  Although I can't begin to grasp your reality, I am humbled and honored that your love would come to me.  To have you near is a joy without compare.  Stir up in me, O Lord, an active imagination so that I may be open to possibilities, dream dreams, and sing a new song of praise.  Through Jesus Christ, amen. 

---

Today’s reading comes from Walt’s first book, Lighting Your Way, With Love. He wrote it on the occasion of his son leaving for college. It is a devotional book about transitions, faith, and living as a child of God.

$15.99

Quantity:

Purchase

© 2019 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

Jesus Stories Are Not Just for Kids

The following comes from Walt’s book, Lighting Your Way, With Love

My grandfather played a prominent role in my life as I was growing up.  I recall as a teenager spending many a Friday afternoon sitting with him on folding lawn chairs in my backyard.   

Grandpa was a World War II veteran; he served in a bomb disposal unit in Europe.  He didn't linger on the horror or the destruction of the war much.  There was only one story that he told me in which someone died.  Instead, the epic adventures focused more on friendships and how a small group of GIs survived and made their way "somewhere in Europe."  Grandpa knew the power of stories to connect with others.   

It has been almost twenty-four years since we laid my favorite storyteller to his eternal rest.  Still, his stories continue.  They live in me.  I continue to treasure Grandpa's epic adventures and retell them from time to time.  

Jesus knew the power of stories.  It is no mistake that we read in the Bible that Jesus's teaching consisted of parables.  These little stories of ordinary instances and common objects connected with his hearers, bringing with them big truths about God and God's Kingdom.  Like my Grandpa, Jesus was a master storyteller who knew how to connect his narrative with the lives of his hearers.   

Long after the Nazarene left to go on to the next town, the people there remembered and treasured what he said.  What is more, they passed the teaching on to others until the Gospel writers (Matthew, Mark, Luke, John) eventually wrote them down.  Not only did Jesus's stories make the canonical cut, but so did dozens of stories about Jesus's life and ministry.   

One might view the entire Bible as a giant storybook.  You could say that it is a love story of sorts between God and people, full of adventure, intrigue, suspense, brokenness, and redemption.  By the time the tale gets to Bethlehem, a pattern has emerged between God and the people: God is faithful and steadfast in love, people stray and seek life apart from the source of their life.  God doesn't give up but instead enters the story in real time in the presence of Jesus.  People turn back to God and live.   

These "Jesus" stories are valuable.  Taken together, they help to hold back the curtain, giving us a glimpse of God's hidden nature, which is beyond our comprehension.  By the hearing, telling, and treasuring of the stories of Jesus's life and ministry, we have an invaluable resource.  Taking Jesus stories to heart, we will be inspired, instructed, and empowered in our living.  They are even helpful at times when we find ourselves missing the familiar occupants of the lawn chairs in our backyard.  

A PRAYER FOR YOU:

Gracious God, throughout the ages, your story is one of steadfast love and faithfulness.  From creating all people in your image to your deliverance of your people from captivity, you liberate life itself.  Strengthen me to live in your story this day.  Guide me in your path so that my life might reflect your goodness.  Through Jesus Christ, amen. 

---

Today’s reading comes from Walt’s first book, Lighting Your Way, With Love. He wrote it on the occasion of his son leaving for college. It is a devotional book about transitions, faith, and living as a child of God.

$15.99

Quantity:

Purchase

© 2019 Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.