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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 March 7, 2004
(The following reflection was passed to our electronic ministry team during the past holiday season. We have held it for use at a time outside the Christmas season - when so many things compete for our attention. It is our hope that by doing this you will have more time to reflect upon the mystery the writing discusses. And, we thank David for passing the "solution" to us.) There is one Christmas Carol that has always baffled me. What in the world does leaping lords, French hens, swimming swans, and especially the partridge in the pear tree have to do with Christmas? Today, I found out. From 1558 until 1829, Roman Catholics in England were not permitted to practice their faith openly. Someone during that era wrote this carol as a catechism song for young Catholics. It has two levels of meaning -- the surface meaning plus a hidden meaning known only to members of their church. Each element in the carol has a code word for a religious reality, which the children could remember.
(David wrote) "This knowledge was shared with me and I found it interesting and enlightening. Now I know how that strange song became a Christmas Carol. ... so pass it on if you wish." Prayer: |
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Devotion for the week of March 14, 2004
We enter the Lenten season marked with the ashes of death and embark on an arduous journey of faith. With our beautiful Savior, we stagger under the cross of our private and collective sin and shame. We bear that piercing crown of thorns, woven from our own callous deeds and woeful neglect. We taste the bitter gall of the enormous pain and grief. Lingering there at His feet, we are stunned at the absurdity of it all: the brutality, the indignity, and the unspeakable loss. Yet, we dare not turn away from this scene of utter devastation, but watch with Him in His seemingly endless hour of despair. Then, as the unbearable drama draws to a close, we hear a loud, piercing cry. The book of life is slammed shut with shocking finality and the veil is slashed in two. Death is so inevitable and seems so starkly real. Whether abrupt or lingering, it is usually a wrenching experience for those left behind in its wake. But not for Him, not for our beloved dead, and not for us when we too shall reach that silver shore. For our faith assures us that death is in fact powerless to snatch our lives away. It is only an horizon, a concept to mark the point of transition and change. But what an incredible transformation! From a mortal body, so limited and confining, to an immortal form, indestructible, free. From the darkness and density of a material world to the light-filled realm of the spirit. From a world where confusion, lies, and shadowy images so often parade as reality to fundamental Truth. From the imitation of beauty to Beauty itself. And from the ever-present barbarity of war and discrimination, to the very essence of Justice and Peace. Then shall the voice of Time fade to a whisper, all but lost in the triumphal music of Eternity. This dear little earth shall recede like a dream, hidden within the boundaries of the cosmos, itself just a glancing trace in that unfathomable, immeasurable Universal Sea. Surely, joy shall dawn with the morning light, when the mystery of life is revealed. We shall return to the great dominion whence we came, our bodies restored, our hearts renewed, our souls redeemed. And the love of God, the most amazing wonder of all, shall prevail for evermore. Death, indeed, has lost its sting, and the grave, its victory. For this, He bore the crimson stains. For this, He sacrificed all. Thanks be to God!
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Devotion for the week of March 21, 2004 "All come from dust, and to dust all return." During our Ash Wednesday service, we were invited to come to the altar for the traditional imposition of ashes. As the image of the cross was traced on our foreheads we heard, "Remember you are dust and to dust you will return." This is a solemn and sobering statement that humbles us and forces us to face our mortality. However, it is also a most consoling statement. In Genesis 2:7 we are told that, "The Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being." Isn't that a beautiful thought? God, the ultimate potter, created humanity from mere dust . . . the dust He also created. During Lent it is not unusual to hear people speaking about what they have given up for Lent. I was taught that Lutherans don't "give up something for Lent" but, instead, "take on something for Lent." This year, I have elected to take on the challenge to prayerfully consider the use of the earthly vessel God created when He created man from dust. Potters create for a purpose. Traditional pots were made to serve needs. In our home, for example, we have family heirlooms of several jars (pots) created to store, carry, and serve milk - a life sustaining and livelihood-producing element of our farm-dependant ancestors. Thinking of myself as a traditional, utilitarian pot created by God, I am asking myself what it is that I have stored and continue to store in my body. Where, and to whom, do I carry what I store? How can I pour out that stored within me to better serve others? Along my life, my earthly vessel has been chipped and developed some hairline cracks. There will come a day when God decides it is time to smash this pot and return my body to dust. How comforting to know that when I return to dust God will then put me on His potter's wheel again and turn me into my permanent, heavenly shape.
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Devotion for the week of March 28, 2004 "Restore to me the joy of your salvation, I watch the birds at my birdfeeder with admiration and dismay. At first glance it seems to be total anarchy. Large birds scare off the smaller birds, who quickly re-assert their presence one by one. All is well until the blue jays, the vocal bullies of the crowd, mix it up again. It goes around and around and just about the time that everyone has their place of choice, the squirrel hops in to disrupt any measure of democracy that was in the making. A crow may also walk in like an avian Satan to further disturb the neighborhood, but it seems to be part of the game. Slowly the scenario repeats itself and the bird neighborhood gathers to search for food in a pattern known only to them. During this season of Lent, we pause to reflect on the many ways that our faith is challenged in our daily life. Just when we seem to find our place at the human birdfeeder, something comes in view that disturbs our confidence, our faith, and our vision of right and wrong. It is a time to slow down to review our blessings and to be thankful for our spiritual gifts. We seem to need a refresher course in thankfulness. Once again we eagerly study the path to the cross, and remind ourselves of the promises. What better time than in this holy season to re-dedicate our lives to that purpose.
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