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"Running in Faith" is an electronic devotional guide written by members of Abiding Presence Lutheran Church. Each week, writers use their personal interpretation of scripture to write an inspirational message they hope will help readers take their Sunday faith into weekday lives. Your comments are appreciated and, when related to a particular devotion, passed to the writer. We hope you will share these devotions with friends and coworkers. We are always happy to add new names to our e-mail list. Please contact us if you wish your name to be added. |
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Devotion for the week of November 3, 2003 "Surely there is a future, I read recently about a procedure used by medieval monks to predict the future -- sortes Biblicae. The monks would open their Evangel blindly and lay a finger on a page for the answer to what would happen. What is your future? Do your really want to know all the details ahead of time? If you did, would the "positives" be as wonderful as when they happen without prior knowledge? Would the "negatives" be so overwhelming that your survival during the waiting period would become overwhelming? I confess that there have been times when I have practiced sortes Biblicae without knowing it had a name. And sometimes, this gave me answers "right on the mark." Typically, however, I glean the scriptures for answers in a slightly more sophisticated manner. That is, I use a concordance to guide me to passages directly related to the topic of concern as I wrestle with my present and future. This latter method provides sufficient information for me. I need not, and prefer not, to know the steps along the path. The "ending" is sufficient.
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Devotion for the week of November 10, 2003
Chapter 23 of Matthew's Gospel rarely finds its way into the church's weekly lectionary readings. Understandably, this section of scripture runs the risk of condoning anti-Jewish attitudes without proper interpretation. Understandably, if these were the last verses of scripture in our consciousness, we would quickly despair in the red-hot judgment. I'm the first to confess I major in minors, attend to enjoyable and lighter matters before weightier ones, and strive to get the wolf of urgency off my back without taking the time to seek first the kingdom of God. I'm the chief of sinners who suffers from dieting with details and swallowing the camel instead! Since we are "blind guides," where do we turn for guidance? First, we turn to Christ in the burden of our daily decision-making. We can face the tough discernment between lighter and weightier matters when we know that ultimately it's not up to us. Christ says earlier in Matthew: "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Second, we turn to others for shared wisdom. Steven Covey tells about the instructor who was lecturing on time management. He set a wide-mouth jar on the table next to a platter with some fist-sized rocks on it. "How many of these rocks do you think we can get in the jar?" he asked. After class members offered several guesses, the instructor put a rock in the jar. Then he put in another, then another, until he filled the jar. Then he asked, "Is the jar full?" Everybody agreed. The jar was full. The instructor reached under the table, brought out a bucket of gravel, and started dumping the gravel in the jar. It filled the spaces around the big rocks. The instructor grinned and asked, "Is the jar full?" "Probably not," the class said. The instructor reached under the table, brought out a bucket of sand, and started dumping the sand in the jar. It filled the little spaces left by the rocks and the gravel. Once more he asked, "Is the jar full?" "No!" the class roared. With this he started pouring a pitcher of water into the jar. He got something like a quart of water into that jar. When he asked the class for the point of his picture parable, someone replied, "If we work hard at filling the gaps in our lives, we accomplish more!" "No," the instructor said, "Here is the point: put the big rocks in first. Otherwise, you'll never get them in." (Steven Covey, First Things First)
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Devotion for the week of November 17, 2003
Doesn't this scene sound familiar? Do we not all stand for the reading of the Gospel by our priest, Pastor Dan? Do we not also worship and say Amen? It seems that some things haven't changed all that much across the millennia. There are, however, many things that have changed. We now find that God is being taken out of public places, schools, courthouses and now out of our Pledge of Allegiance. How strange! We have the documents of our nation's founding that constantly refer to God and yet we can't publicly acknowledge or proclaim Him. We can in churches and other houses of worship. The opening of our federal (as well as many state and local legislature and Supreme Court) proceedings are opened and closed with public acknowledgment of God. Our elected leaders and representatives end their oaths of office with the words, "So help me God." We use the same phrase when we testify in courts. We base our laws and legal codes upon the teachings from our Judeo-Christian heritages and yet cannot display the Ten Commandments in or around our courthouses. I am amazed, appalled and confused. We proclaim our faith in church and yet not in the workplace nor in public. We are exhorted to provide models in our personal and public lives and yet we can't acknowledge Him publicly. And yet when a crisis or a disaster strike, there is not one voice raised in protest when God is called upon for help or given credit for His help and guidance. We all must be well-adjusted schizoids in order to safely and sanely live our lives. How strange and how sad.
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Devotion for the week of November 23, 2003
Be present at our table Lord She sat at the table, in the dayroom of the shelter, in the city, hoping. Hoping the telephone would ring and the voice would tell her that the job she wanted was hers. How did she get here? She had a high school education, even a few college credits. She had married young, had two sweet babies in rapid succession, and lived in a fine townhouse in the city. Then her husband lost his job, started drinking, and became abusive. She could stand it when he beat just her, but when he started hitting the children, she left. Left without much clothing except what she was wearing, the two suitcases that she could manage to carry, and the little money she could scrape together. Her youngsters each carried a backpack with a few toys and books. She was one of the lucky ones, they told her at the shelter. At least she had some office skills, and there was a daycare center where she could be sure the kids were safe while she went out on interviews. They were kind to her here, but it wasn't home. She sat at the table, in the kitchen of the farmhouse, in the country, watching. Watching the auctioneer sell off the cattle and other livestock, the farm machinery, the pieces of furniture that they couldn't take to the small apartment in the town where she and her husband would live. The farm, in the family for three generations, had already been bought up by a conglomerate. Most of their neighbors had sold out, too. They had survived the dry years, but then the price of milk had dropped so low that none of them could afford to pay off the accumulated debts. Her husband had taken a job in town, and she, too, would be able to find a part time job in one of the stores. But there would be no farm to pass down to the grandchildren, no view of pastureland or woodland to mark the passing seasons. They would be able to exist in the new place, but it wouldn't be home. She sat at the table, on the porch of the small house, in the town where she had lived for so many years, waiting. Waiting for the boat that would take her to safety, away from all she had in the world. The sandbags had held for several days, they thought they would be safe from the raging waters. The melting ice had prevailed, and the river rose higher until the foundation began to buckle, and she would have to leave. She packed a few possessions - her grandmother's quilt, her mother's teapot, a few family photos. So many other things could never be replaced; the rocking chair her father had made for her, her large collection of books, all the small knick-knacks given to her by her students during the years she taught in the local school. She had never married, so these were all her "children". She would go and live with her sister and brother-in-law, at least for a while, but their place was small, and it was łtheir˛ place. She knew it would never be her home. He sat at the table, in the upper room, in the city, praying. Praying for his disciples, for the world, for his enemies. Soon he would have to leave this place; he knew he would have to suffer and die. And he said, "This is my body, this is my blood; Come to my table and never be hungry again." He had been a wanderer all his life, born in a borrowed stable, forced to flee the country when he was a small child, roaming the hillsides and deserts without provisions. He had been homeless for most of his life. He told them, "I go to prepare a place for you, a home where you will be safe, and loved, and happy: an eternal home." We shall sit at the table with Him, in the Father's mansion, in paradise, singing. Singing praises with the heavenly host to the joy of the eternal God. He has welcomed us to his banquet table, to share the most important feast ever given. And no one will ever be thirsty, and no one will ever be hungry, and no one will ever be homeless again. Thy creatures bless, and grant that we |
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Devotion for the week of November 30, 2003
Today, November 30th, is the First Sunday in Advent. This date also coincides with a lesser festival in our church, that of St. Andrew, the Apostle. As we all know, Andrew was one of the twelve Apostles and the brother of Simon Peter. They were the first two Apostles to be summoned by Jesus into His service. Peter symbolically came to represent the Church of the West and Andrew came to represent the Church of the East. In contemplation of writing this brief devotional piece, I reflected upon Matthew's Gospel, trying to empathize with Andrew and his brother Peter when Christ beckoned them to follow Him, promising to make them "fishers of men." What a "career change," eh? More than "just" an interesting biblical story, it is truly one of the important incidents in the life of Christ. From such signal events our church of Christian followers took root. One does not normally speak of biblical figures as heroes, yet Andrew is one to me. (hero: "Any man noted for feats of courage or nobility of purpose; especially one who had risked or sacrificed his life.") St. Andrew accepted Christ with all his heart; and after a discipleship with John the Baptist went forth to become one of the Church's greatest missionaries. As an Apostle, his only tools were his power of oratory, his love for Jesus, his dedicated preaching of the Word, and his courage. . . all of which ultimately cost him his life. As the Gospel speaks of Jesus commanding two of the Apostles to "follow me," are we not also beckoned to follow our Savior? Do we not commit ourselves to following Him when we pledge, "I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints" in the Apostles' Creed? How much easier it is today for us to profess publicly our beliefs and go forth to "bring the good news" than it was for Andrew. He was indeed a heroic follower of Jesus and one whom we could well emulate. I do not believe in hero "worship," for that would be idolatry, of which Martin Luther explicitly admonished. I do have cherished biblical heroes, though; ones who, like Andrew, are role models for my service to our Lord.
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