Welcome to Vienna Baptist Church's "Transformed Living". I am glad you are here. Each day I will post a daily devotion that ends with several questions. I want to here your thoughts! Share your answers and anything else jumped out for you in the days reading. I challenge you to share ways you want to apply the daily devotion to your life and we can help hold each other accountable. All you have to do to get started is scroll down to today's reflection. Click on "leave a comment" and sign in as anonymous-- leave your name in your actual comment. Contact me with any questions! Jennifer Peterson Singh
Why has Easter been commercialized like Christmas? This article from slate.com has an interesting answer, check it out:
Happy Crossmas! Why Easter stubbornly resists the commercialism that swallowed Christmas.
By James Martin Posted Thursday, March 20, 2008, at 6:54 AM ET
Sending out hundreds of Easter cards this year? Attending way too many Easter parties? Doing some last-minute shopping for gifts to place under your Easter tree? Getting tired of those endless Easter-themed specials on television?
I didn't think so.
Unlike Christmas, whose deeper spiritual meaning has been all but buried under an annual avalanche of commercialism, Easter has retained a stubborn hold on its identity as a religious holiday. This is all the more surprising when you consider what an opportune time it would be for marketers to convince us to buy more stuff. Typically arriving around the beginning of spring, Easter would be the perfect time for department stores to euchre customers into buying carloads of kids' outdoor toys, warm-weather clothes, and summertime sporting equipment. And while Christmas is forced to contend with Thanksgiving, New Year's Day, Hanukkah, and Kwanzaa, there is little holiday competition around Easter time. (Passover and Easter, despite their proximity in the calendar, don't seem to interfere with each other much.) All in all, the church's most important feast day comes at a terrific time of year for Madison Avenue.
So what enables Easter to maintain its religious purity and not devolve into the consumerist nightmare that is Christmas? Well, for one thing, it's hard to make a palatable consumerist holiday out of Easter when its back story is, at least in part, so gruesome. Christmas is cuddly. Easter, despite the bunnies, is not.
To the secular mind, the story of Christmas goes like this: A young couple named Mary (pretty, pregnant, wearing a flattering blue gown) and Joseph (a little older, quite handsome, sporting a well-trimmed beard) journeyed on a trusty donkey all the way to O Little Town of Bethlehem. Since there was no room at the inn, the young couple bunked in a cozy stable filled with cuddly farm animals. There, Away in the Manger, Mary gave birth to Jesus, her adorable baby boy. Soon after, Angels We Have Heard on High came to the rustic shepherds to tell them What Child Is This. And then We Three Kings of Orient Are—or, rather, showed up.
Despite the awesome theological implications (Christians believe that the infant lying in the manger is the son of God), the Christmas story is easily reduced to pablum. How pleasant it is in mid-December to open a Christmas card with a pretty picture of Mary and Joseph gazing beatifically at their son, with the shepherds and the angels beaming in delight. The Christmas story, with its friendly resonances of marriage, family, babies, animals, angels, and—thanks to the wise men—gifts, is eminently marketable to popular culture. It's a Thomas Kinkade painting come to life.
On the other hand, a card bearing the image of a near-naked man being stripped, beaten, tortured, and nailed through his hands and feet onto a wooden crucifix is a markedly less pleasant piece of mail.
The Easter story is relentlessly disconcerting and, in a way, is the antithesis of the Christmas story. No matter how much you try to water down its particulars, Easter retains some of the shock it had for those who first participated in the events during the first century. The man who spent the final three years of his life preaching a message of love and forgiveness (and, along the way, healing the sick and raising the dead) is betrayed by one of his closest friends, turned over to the representatives of a brutal occupying power, and is tortured, mocked, and executed in the manner that Rome reserved for the worst of its criminals.
We may even sense resonances with some painful political issues still before us. Jesus of Nazareth was not only physically brutalized but also casually humiliated during his torture, echoing the abuses at Abu Ghraib. In 21st-century Iraq, some American soldiers posed prisoners with women's underwear on their heads as a way of scorning their manhood. In first-century Palestine, some Roman soldiers pressed down a crown of thorns onto Jesus' head and clothed him in a purple robe to scorn the kingship his followers claimed for him. After this, Jesus suffered the most degrading of all Roman deaths: crucifixion. Jesus remains the world's most famous victim of capital punishment.
To his followers, therefore, his execution was not only tragic and terrifying but shameful. It is difficult not to wonder what the Apostles would have thought of a crucifix as a fashion accessory. Imagine wearing an image of a hooded Abu Ghraib victim around your neck as holiday bling.
Even the resurrection, the joyful end of the Easter story, resists domestication as it resists banalization. Unlike Christmas, it also resists a noncommittal response. Even agnostics and atheists who don't accept Christ's divinity can accept the general outlines of the Christmas story with little danger to their worldview. But Easter demands a response. It's hard for a non-Christian believer to say, "Yes, I believe that Jesus of Nazareth was crucified, died, was buried, and rose from the dead." That's not something you can believe without some serious ramifications: If you believe that Jesus rose from the dead, this has profound implications for your spiritual and religious life—really, for your whole life. If you believe the story, then you believe that Jesus is God, or at least God's son. What he says about the world and the way we live in that world then has a real claim on you.
Easter is an event that demands a "yes" or a "no." There is no "whatever."
More shocking than the crucifixion is the resurrection. Two thousand years later, it's still impossible for humanity to grasp this event fully. Even the Gospel writers found it hard to agree on what, precisely, happened and differ on something as basic as what Jesus looked like after the resurrection. (In some Gospel accounts, Jesus is almost ghostlike; in others, he is clearly a physical presence.)
That confusion may be one reason why in most "Jesus movies" the resurrection is largely an afterthought. In Franco Zeffirelli's 1977 miniseries Jesus of Nazareth (an Easter TV favorite), the resurrection consists of Jesus uttering bland pieties to a dazed-looking group of apostles. In Mel Gibson's 2004 The Passion of the Christ (admittedly about the crucifixion and death), the resurrection, something with far more religious import than the suffering, is reduced to a brief coda. In Gibson's version, Jesus stands up and marches out of his tomb on Easter morning to the strains of martial music, as if to say, "I'm back, and I'm going to kick some Roman butt!"
What does the world do with a person who has been raised from the dead? Christians have been meditating on that for two millenniums. But despite the eggs, the baskets, and the bunnies, one thing we haven't been able to do is to tame that person, tame his message, and, moreover, tame what happened to him in Jerusalem all those years ago. That's one reason why you don't see many Easter cards, Easter gifts, and Easter decorations; why the stores aren't clogged with shoppers during Lent; and why the holiday is still, essentially, religious.
On Sorrow Give your sorrow all the space and shelter in yourself that is its due, for if everyone bears [their] grief honestly and courageously, the sorrow that now fills the world will abate. But if you do not clear a decent shelter for your sorrow, and instead reserve most of the space inside you for hatred and thoughts of revenge -from which new sorrows will be born for others- then sorrow will never cease in this world and will multiply.
-Etty Hillesum quoted in Toward a Jewish Theology of Liberation by Marc Ellis
If you need some good stories, just come to Philadelphia and wander around the streets downtown. You will meet many wonderful people and have many varied experiences. You will certainly come away enriched by some strange encounters.
One day, about the noon hour, I was walking down Chestnut Street when I noticed a bum walking toward me. He was covered with dirt and soot from head to toe. There was filthy stuff caked on his skin. But the most noticeable thing about him was his beard. It hung down almost to his waist and there was rotted food stuck in it. The man was holding a cup of McDonald's coffee and the lip of the cup was already smudged from his dirty mouth. As he staggered toward me, he seemed to be staring into his cup of coffee. Then, suddenly, he looked up and he yelled, "Hey, mister! Ya want some of my coffee?"
I have to admit that I really didn't. But I knew that the right thing to do was accept his generosity, and so I said, "I'll take a sip."
As I handed the cup back to him I said, "You're getting pretty generous, aren't you, giving away your coffee? What's gotten into you today that's made you so generous?"
The old derelict looked straight into my eyes and said, "Well...the coffee was especially delicious today, and I figure if God gives you something good, you ought to share it with people!"
I thought to myself, Oh man. He has really set me up. This is going to cost me five dollars. I asked him, "I suppose there's something I can do for you in return, isn't there?"
The bum answered, "Yeah! You can give me a hug!" (To tell the truth, I was hoping for the five dollars.)
He put his arms around me and I put my arms around him. Then suddenly I realized something. He wasn't going to let me go! People were passing us on the sidewalk. They were staring at me. There I was, dressed in establishment garb, hugging this dirty, filthy bum! I was embarrassed. I didn't know what to do. Then, little by little, my embarrassment changed to awe and reverence. I heard a voice echoing down the corridors of time saying "I was hungry; did you feed Me? I was naked; did you clothe Me? I was sick; did you care for Me? I was the bum you met in Chestnut Street...did you hug Me? For if you did it to the least of these, you did it unto Me."
Mike Yaconelli, the cofounder of Youth Specialties, tells about the time when, dejected and demoralized, he trundled off with his wife, Karla, to Toronto, Canada, to make a five-day retreat at the L'Arche (the Ark) community. He went hoping to draw inspiration from the mentally and physically handicapped people who lived there or find solace in the presence and preaching of Henri Nouwen. Instead, he found his true self. He tells his story:
It took only a few hours of silence before I began to hear my soul speaking. It only took being alone for a short period of time for me to discover I wasn't alone. God had been trying to shout ver the noisiness of my life, and I couldn't hear Him. But in the stillness and solitude, his whispers shouted from my soul, 'Michael, I am here. I have been calling you, but you haven't been listening. Can you hear me, Michael? I love you. I have always loved you. And I have been waiting for you to hear me say that to you. But you have been so busy trying to prove to yourself you are loved that you have not heard me.'....
At L'Arche, it became very clear to me that I had totally misunderstood the Christian faith. I came to see that it was in my brokenness, in my powerlessness, in my weakness that Jesus was made strong. It was in the acceptance of my lack of faith that God could give me faith. It was in the embracing of my brokenness that I could identify with others' brokenness. It was my role to identify with others' pain, not relieve it. Ministry was sharing, not dominating; understanding, not theologizing; caring, not fixing....
...I can only tell you that it feels very different now. There is an anticipation, an electricity about God's presence in my life that I have never experienced before. I can only tell you that for the first time in my life I can hear Jesus whisper to me every day, 'Michael, I love you. You are beloved.' And for some strange reason, that seems to be enough."
You might see parts of this again on Sunday in worship!
"Jean Vanier, founder of the L’Arche community for people with mental disabilities, [this the community that Henri Nouwen worked in that I wrote about in an earlier entry] offers a contrasting perspective of what ‘living’ or ‘giving life’ may be for the believer. Vanier suggests that to offer life, we must offer that which we most love to others. Offering what we most treasure allows us to transmit life to others. By living with people with disabilities, Vanier learned that to “be human is to be bonded together, each with our own weaknesses and strengths, because we need each other.”
What do we treasure most today? Perhaps it is our money, our time, our independence, our intellect or our ability to serve others. May God show us our brokenness and need for each other so that we might truly live. "
Fred Craddock tells the story of his growing up years. He said that his mother always took the children to church and Sunday school, but his father didn’t go. He would complain when Sunday lunch was late because of church. When the pastor would come to visit, he would always say, “I know what the church wants. Church doesn’t care about me. Church wants another name, another pledge, another name, another pledge. Isn’t that right? Another name, another pledge. Church doesn’t care about me.” Fred said, “I heard him say it thousand times.”
One time he didn’t say it. He was in the veteran’s hospital, down to 73 pounds. The doctors had removed part of his throat. He couldn’t speak or eat. Fred flew in to see him. He said, “I looked around the room, potted plants and cut flowers on all the windowsills, a stack of cards twenty inches deep beside his bed. And all the flowers and cards were from persons or groups from the church.”
His father saw him reading one of the cards. He couldn’t speak, so he took a Kleenex box and wrote on the side of it a line from Shakespeare. “In this harsh world, draw your breath in pain to tell my story.” Fred asked him, “What is your story, Daddy?” And he wrote, “I was wrong.” (from Craddock Stories, edited by Mike Graves and Richard Ward)
The children in missions movers were studying the story of the widow's mite last night, read it here from The Message:
Sitting across from the offering box, he was observing how the crowd tossed money in for the collection. Many of the rich were making large contributions. One poor widow came up and put in two small coins—a measly two cents. Jesus called his disciples over and said, "The truth is that this poor widow gave more to the collection than all the others put together. All the others gave what they'll never miss; she gave extravagantly what she couldn't afford—she gave her all. Mark 12: 41-44
Frederick Buechner writes, “The world says, the more you take, the more you have. Jesus Christ says, the more you give, the more you are.” I can't think of a story that better illustrates this quote than her story.
William Willimon is the Dean of Duke Chapel and I think he often preaches in a prophetic voice. Read these words from one of his sermons:
"A pastor in Florida told me of how her congregation became concerned about the plight of the homeless in her city. They could see them, wandering the streets at night, sleeping in doorways.
"We've got this big fellowship hall downstairs," she told her congregation. "Why don't we simply invite these homeless men to come spend the night here?" Why not? How nice of the church to do something for the homeless!
The first night, fifty-five homeless men entered the fellowship hall to spend the night. She said, "Now you take fifty-five homeless men off the streets and put them into a Methodist fellowship hall, you've got problems. First of all, we found out that there's a reason why many of them are homeless. Nobody wants them. Crazy, sick, offensive, malnourished, addicted. We had never actually met any homeless people. It was rough at first. Fights. A robbery. Somebody came down to distribute food one night and got roughed up. It was a mess. All we wanted to do was to be nice to some homeless men."
"So what happened?" I asked.
"So what happened was — we actually became a church. We had two choices. Either throw them out or else do what was necessary to be the sort of place that could show hospitality to fifty-five homeless people. By the grace of God, we chose the latter. Medical care, food, counseling, support hand-holding, and listening were developed. Our congregation was converted from a friendly, ordinary, religious club — protecting its club house — to a committed, bold church, 'cause when we opened our doors to fifty-five homeless men, guess who else got in with them?"
"The One who said, ‘inasmuch as you have done it to the least of these (surprise!) you've done it to me'?" I asked.
"Right," she said.
I wonder if, in your life right now, there is a knock at your door. I wonder (I'm just asking) if where you are now living, there's a stranger outside waiting for you to open up. That tug at the heart, that tap upon the door, it could be you-know-who. "Behold, I stand at the door and knock," He said.
Let's go ahead and let Him in. You want to ask Him in? What harm could He do? "
My mother (who is one of the wisest people I know) tells me "if you are ever feeling down, find a way to serve someone else." I can't tell you how often this has helped me in my life. It keeps me from focusing on the problem and instead helps me see the good I can do. I encourage you to find a way to do something for someone else this week, see how good it makes you feel.
Everytime you click on that site, 1.1 cups of food to hungry people. At the same site, you can also click to give to several other charities, check them out!
Imagine if we treated each other as beloved. How different would our self-images, world, families, and church be?
“We are the Beloved. We are intimately loved long before our parents, teachers, spouses, children and friends loved or wounded us. That’s the truth of our lives. That’s the truth I want you to claim for yourself. That’s the truth spoken by the voice that says, ‘You are my Beloved.’ Listening to that voice with great inner attentiveness, I hear at my center [God’s] words that say: ‘I have called you by name, from the very beginning. You are mine and I am yours. You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests. I have molded you in the depths of the earth and knitted you together in your mother’s womb. I have carved you in the palms of my hands and hidden you in the shadow of my embrace. I look at you with infinite tenderness and care for you with a care more intimate than that of a mother for her child. I have counted every hair on your head and guided you at every step. Wherever you go, I go with you, and wherever you rest, I keep watch. I will give you food that will satisfy all your hunger and drink that will quench all your thirst. I will not hide my face from you. You know me as your own as I know you as my own. You belong to me. I am your father, your mother, your brother, your sister, your lover and your spouse…yes, even your child . . . wherever you are I will be. Nothing will ever separate us. We are one.’”
Dietrich Bonhoeffor writes in his book Life Together: "The person who loves his/her dream of a community more than the Christian community itself becomes a destroyer of the latter, even though his/her personal intentions may be ever so honest and earnest and sacrificial....Just as a the Christian should not be constantly feeling his/her spiritual pulse, so, too, the Christian community has not been given to us by God for us to be constantly taking its temperature."
Yesterday in church staff meeting we began by reading the quote and talking about what it means to be a member of a church community. Each of us knows someone who is constantly church-hopping, you probably do too. The church they attend isn't quite what they want, so they keep looking-- often never finding what they are really looking for. They never find true community, because that takes time and a true investment of self, you can't do that overnight or even in a few months. Real community develops as you are prescence of Christ for each other over time. It is when you trust each other to be truly open and vulnerable -- through the highs and the lows, the laughter and the tears.
I think it is incredibly important to find a church where you can find community. It is equally important to acknowledge that this church and every other church will not be perfect churches. Churches can't be perfect. Vienna Baptist is made up of pilgrims on a journey, not perfect people. So we struggle and celebrate together as we grow closer to Christ.
I came across this article today written by Mangesh Hattikudur and it warmed my heart. Mr. Rogers knew how to create community!
The following are 15 things everyone should know about Fred Rogers:
1. Even Koko the Gorilla loved him Most people have heard of Koko, the Stanford-educated gorilla who could speak about 1000 words in American Sign Language, and understand about 2000 in English. What most people don’t know, however, is that Koko was an avid Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood fan. As Esquire reported, when Fred Rogers took a trip out to meet Koko for his show, not only did she immediately wrap her arms around him and embrace him, she did what she’d always seen him do onscreen: she proceeded to take his shoes off!
2. He Made Thieves Think Twice According to a TV Guide piece on him, Fred Rogers drove a plain old Impala for years. One day, however, the car was stolen from the street near the TV station. When Rogers filed a police report, the story was picked up by every newspaper, radio and media outlet around town. Amazingly, within 48 hours the car was left in the exact spot where it was taken from, with an apology on the dashboard. It read, “If we’d known it was yours, we never would have taken it.” 3. He Watched His Figure to the Pound! In covering Rogers’ daily routine (waking up at 5; praying for a few hours for all of his friends and family; studying; writing, making calls and reaching out to every fan who took the time to write him; going for a morning swim; getting on a scale; then really starting his day), writer Tom Junod explained that Mr. Rogers weighed in at exactly 143 pounds every day for the last 30 years of his life. He didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, didn’t eat the flesh of any animals, and was extremely disciplined in his daily routine. And while I’m not sure if any of that was because he’d mostly grown up a chubby, single child, Junod points out that Rogers found beauty in the number 143. According to the piece, Rogers came “to see that number as a gift… because, as he says, “the number 143 means ‘I love you.’ It takes one letter to say ‘I’ and four letters to say ‘love’ and three letters to say ‘you.’ One hundred and forty-three.” 4. He Saved Both Public Television and the VCR Strange but true. When the government wanted to cut Public Television funds in 1969, the relatively unknown Mister Rogers went to Washington. Almost straight out of a Capra film, his 5-6 minute testimony on how TV had the potential to give kids hope and create more productive citizens was so simple but passionate that even the most gruff politicians were charmed. While the budget should have been cut, the funding instead jumped from $9 to $22 million. Rogers also spoke to Congress, and swayed senators into voting to allow VCR’s to record television shows from the home. It was a cantankerous debate at the time, but his argument was that recording a program like his allowed working parents to sit down with their children and watch shows as a family. 5. He Might Have Been the Most Tolerant American Ever Mister Rogers seems to have been almost exactly the same off-screen as he was onscreen. As an ordained Presbyterian minister, and a man of tremendous faith, Mister Rogers preached tolerance first. Whenever he was asked to castigate non-Christians or gays for their differing beliefs, he would instead face them and say, with sincerity, “God loves you just the way you are.” Often this provoked ire from fundamentalists. 6. He Was Genuinely Curious about Others Mister Rogers was known as one of the toughest interviews because he’d often befriend reporters, asking them tons of questions, taking pictures of them, compiling an album for them at the end of their time together, and calling them after to check in on them and hear about their families. He wasn’t concerned with himself, and genuinely loved hearing the life stories of others. Amazingly, it wasn’t just with reporters. Once, on a fancy trip up to a PBS exec’s house, he heard the limo driver was going to wait outside for 2 hours, so he insisted the driver come in and join them (which flustered the host). On the way back, Rogers sat up front, and when he learned that they were passing the driver’s home on the way, he asked if they could stop in to meet his family. According to the driver, it was one of the best nights of his life—the house supposedly lit up when Rogers arrived, and he played jazz piano and bantered with them late into the night. Further, like with the reporters, Rogers sent him notes and kept in touch with the driver for the rest of his life.
7. He was Color-blind Literally. He couldn’t see the color blue. Of course, he was also figuratively color-blind, as you probably guessed. As were his parents who took in a black foster child when Rogers was growing up. 8. He Could Make a Subway Car full of Strangers Sing Once while rushing to a New York meeting, there were no cabs available, so Rogers and one of his colleagues hopped on the subway. Esquire reported that the car was filled with people, and they assumed they wouldn’t be noticed. But when the crowd spotted Rogers, they all simultaneously burst into song, chanting “It’s a wonderful day in the neighborhood.” The result made Rogers smile wide.
A few other things: 9. He got into TV because he hated TV. The first time he turned one on, he saw people angrily throwing pies in each other’s faces. He immediately vowed to use the medium for better than that. Over the years he covered topics as varied as why kids shouldn’t be scared of a haircut, or the bathroom drain (because you won’t fit!), to divorce and war. 10. He was an Ivy League Dropout. Rogers moved from Dartmouth to Rollins College to pursue his studies in music. 11. He composed all the songs on the show, and over 200 tunes. 12. He was a perfectionist, and disliked ad libbing. He felt he owed it to children to make sure every word on his show was thought out. 13. Michael Keaton got his start on the show as an assistant– helping puppeteer and operate the trolley. 14. Several characters on the show are named for his family. Queen Sara is named after Rogers’ wife, and the postman Mr. McFeely is named for his maternal grandfather who always talked to him like an adult, and reminded young Fred that he made every day special just by being himself. Sound familiar? It was the same way Mister Rogers closed every show. 15. The sweaters. Every one of the cardigans he wore on the show had been hand-knit by his mother.
In her bestselling book, Traveling Mercies, Anne Lamott explains why she makes her son go with her to church. She says, "The main reason is that I want to give him what I found in the world, which is a path and a little light to see by. Most of the people I know who have what I want –purpose, heart, balance, gratitude, joy – are people with a deep sense of spirituality. They are people in community, who pray, or practice their faith… people banding together to work on themselves and for human rights. They follow a brighter light than the glimmer of their own candle; they are part of something beautiful… Our funky little church is filled with people who are working for peace and freedom, who are out there on the streets and inside praying, and they are home writing letters, and they are at the shelters with giant platters of food."
Then she says, "When I was at the end of my rope, the people at St. Andrew tied a knot in it for me and helped me hold on."
So why are you commited to Vienna Baptist? What makes you part of this community?
Jesus was praying one day when his disciples interrupted him, begging, “Teach us to pray like John taught his disciples.” Jesus graciously obliged them, giving them a succinct prayer. “When you pray, do it like this….”
Prayer, at least prayer in “Jesus’ name,” as Jesus practiced it, does not come naturally. Most people I know think that our prayers ought to be “heartfelt” or “sincere.” Jesus apparently could care less about such sentimental mush. He has a definite, peculiar notion of what constitutes prayer. Prayer is not whenever I spill my guts to God: prayer is when I obey Jesus and pray for the things that he teaches me to pray for and when I pray the way he prays. Prayer is bending my feelings, my desires, my thoughts and yearnings toward Jesus and what he wants me to feel, desire and think.
In most churches I visit, a time of prayer is often preceded by a time of “Joys and Concerns.” I notice that in every congregation, the only concerns expressed are concerns for people in the congregation who are going through various health crises. Prayer becomes what we used to refer to as “Sick Call” in the army. Where on earth did we get this idea of prayer? Not from Jesus. He healed a few people from time to time, but he doesn’t pray for that. He prays for the coming of God’s kingdom, for bread (but only on a daily basis, not for a surplus) and for forgiveness for our trespasses. It’s curious that physical deterioration has become the contemporary North American church’s main concern in prayer. Jesus is most notable for teaching that we are to pray—not for recent gall bladder surgery—but for our enemies!
To be a Christian, a disciple of Jesus, is to pray like Jesus. Therefore Luther called the Lord’s Prayer “a summary of the whole gospel.” A Christian is someone who talks to God about what the Lord’s Prayer talks with God about. Thus this prayer is not only a gift that Jesus gives us, but also judgment against us as we measure our own fidelity against the standard of Jesus.
Prayer is one of the few things that the disciples asked Jesus to teach them, and he graciously responded. A Christian is someone who is engaged in lifelong training in how to pray like Jesus. Thank God, Jesus does not leave us to our own devices when it comes to prayer. If I were praying on my own, would I pray for something as mundane as daily bread, or that I would have the guts to acknowledge that I had actually trespassed against someone? No. There would be no way for me to pray faithfully in Jesus name if he weren’t there every Sunday coaching me, prodding me, saying, “Why you pray, say this….” The summit of Christian worship, the most challenging moment, is that risky, countercultural, against-our-natural-inclination moment when someone stands amid the congregation and says, “Let us pray.”
Hosea 1:2-10, Luke 11:1-13 Sunday, July 29 William H. Willimon is a United Methodist bishop in Birmingham, Alabama, and author of United Methodist Beliefs: A Brief Introduction (Abingdon).
"In the final episode of the popular television program, 'MASH', Father Mulcahy, a priest and the hospital chaplain, gets wounded in an explosion. And as a result of that, he starts to gradually lose his hearing, and there is nothing that the doctors can do to help him.
He is devastated and frightened by that terrible loss, and in a very powerful and poignant scene, he cries out to God:
'Dear Lord, I know there must be a reason. But what is it? I answered the call to do your work. I've devoted my life to it. But how am I supposed to do it? What good am I now? What good is a deaf priest? I prayed for you to help me, and everyday I get worse. Are you deaf too?'" (Rev. Norman Story)
What do you do when you prayers aren't answered the way you want them to be? How do you cope when you pray constantly and the prayers don't seem to go above the rooftop? Even if you feel that God is listening, it doesn't make it any easier. Saying this is all part of God's plan doesn't work if you are in the midst of deep pain and grief. You just want the pain to stop.
I wish had easy directions telling us all what to do, but I don't. All I know to do is keep praying and trusting.
Put Your Heart In Your Mouth For me, the simplest definition of prayer is putting your heart in your mouth. From deep within, some plea or question or gladness geysers up to address a presence or power beyond our human limitations. There is an unadorned urgency, honesty, and immediacy about it. It puts your heart in your mouth." —Ted Loder, My Heart In My Mouth: Prayers for Our Lives Photo by Gregory J. Smith
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1. Even Koko the Gorilla loved him
In covering Rogers’ daily routine (waking up at 5; praying for a few hours for all of his friends and family; studying; writing, making calls and reaching out to every fan who took the time to write him; going for a morning swim; getting on a scale; then really starting his day), writer Tom Junod explained that Mr. Rogers weighed in at exactly 143 pounds every day for the last 30 years of his life. He didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, didn’t eat the flesh of any animals, and was extremely disciplined in his daily routine. And while I’m not sure if any of that was because he’d mostly grown up a chubby, single child, Junod points out that Rogers found beauty in the number 143. According to the piece, Rogers came “to see that number as a gift… because, as he says, “the number 143 means ‘I love you.’ It takes one letter to say ‘I’ and four letters to say ‘love’ and three letters to say ‘you.’ One hundred and forty-three.”
4. He Saved Both Public Television and the VCR
8. He Could Make a Subway Car full of Strangers Sing
14. Several characters on the show are named for his family. Queen Sara is named after Rogers’ wife, and the postman Mr. McFeely is named for his maternal grandfather who always talked to him like an adult, and reminded young Fred that he made every day special just by being himself. Sound familiar? It was the same way Mister Rogers closed every show. 