Lenten Journey: Ambassadors for Christ

So whoever is in Christ is a new creation:  the old things have passed away; behold, new things have come.  And all this is from God, who has reconciled us to himself through Christ and given us the ministry of reconciliation, namely, God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting their trespasses against them and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation.  So we are ambassadors for Christ, as if God were appealing through us.  We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.  For our sake he made him to be sin who did not know sin, so that we might become the righteousness of God in him.

- 2 Corinthians 5:17-21 

For Reflection...

We are beloved of the Father for our own sake and not for our sake alone.

It is the Father's prodigal love that first creates us and then recreates us. We are reconciled within a world immersed in bitter conflict.  The world is, as we were, laboring under the old regime, persisting in enmity not only with God, but with itself.  Give me my inheritance, it says, against its own best good.

We have been there, in the far distant country, but we have come to our senses (Luke 15:17) and made our return.  When we arrived home, we found God's reconciling mercy running down the road to meet us, embracing us before we could utter the words of repentance, fitting us with the finest robes and rings.
We've been to the party, eaten of the fatted calf.  We greet the dawn of our own new creation.

It is from here, from home, that we must set out again.  We have a new job to do.  We have been entrusted with the message of reconciliation.  Our business card reads:  Ambassador for Christ.

God is appealing through us.  What do people see?  Do they see the remnants of the pig sty under the festal garments?  Do we embody the Christ who has stepped into our transgression so we could step into his righteousness?  How are we calling others, inviting them to come to their senses and head for home?  How do we witness to the reality of the welcome of prodigal love?

For Entering In...

- Take a moment to recall your own belovedness before our prodigal God.  Whatever you bring to this moment, God knows it all, and God loves the You who brings it.

- Reflect on these questions:

• Consider some ways that you have acted against your own best good.  How might God be acting in your life, now or in the past, to reconcile you not only to God, but to your own best self?

• Take time again today to abide in gratitude.  This is not an exercise in guilt:  I ought to be grateful.  Rather, sit in the quiet with the reality of who you are and what you have in your life -- possessions, relationships, gifts, the natural world.  Notice what feels like blessing to your heart, and give thanks for that.

• How are you living the message of reconciliation?  Where have you experienced being reconciled?  What can you offer to others who need to be reconciled?

• The prodigal love of the father is the gospel message we are called to preach as ambassadors for Christ.  How have you experienced that prodigal love?  How can you witness to that experience?

• There is a legend that says Saint Francis of Assisi instructed his charges, "Preach the gospel at all times, and if necessary, use words."  How can you -- or do you -- preach the gospel in light of this instruction?

- As you remember your own belovedness in the eyes of God, make a point today to allow someone else to see that prodigal love of God reflected through your eyes back at him or her.

Lenten Journey: The Father

"He said to him, 'My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours.  But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.'"

- Luke 15:31-32 

For Reflection...

Here is the father's last word, his bottom line:  I love you, and I love you.  That is all there is.  No rebuke to the younger.  No rebuff to the elder.  Both are given everything.  Both are called to celebrate and rejoice.  Both, both, are called to life, to be found.

This, finally, is what God is doing in me.  God rejects nothing.  God redeems and reconciles all.  There is nothing in me that is so dead that God cannot resurrect it, nothing so lost that God cannot restore it.

I am the elder brother, and God will take my resentment and turn it to acceptance, my self-righteousness and make of it humility, and my stubbornness God will soften into receptivity.

I am the younger brother, and God will take my thoughtlessness and turn it to compassion, my selfishness and make of it a willingness to serve, and my self-will God will soften into trust.

The father holds out faith that the younger son will return, hope that the elder will come to the feast, and love  for them both, not after they fulfill his will for them, but before and ever and always (Romans 5:8).

It is not a story of a prodigal son, but of a prodigal father.  He is a father whose generosity, whose gift of freedom, whose love is prodigal, "a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing, ...poured into your lap" (Luke 6:38).

For Entering In...

- If you are reading this, our prodigal Father has called you and desires for you to know he has given you everything.  Become aware that you stand now and always in the presence of that God.

- Reflect on these questions:

• Take three minutes to watch this video, then answer this question:  Do you believe that God loves you?

• What in you have you despaired of ever seeing transformed?  Give it to God, today.  This isn't about trying to fix yourself or even having any idea of how your life could be different.  Simply open your heart to the possibility that nothing is impossible with God (Luke 1:37). 

• What would it look like for you to come in to the celebration today?  What do you need to step through or around in order to feast on the fatted calf?  The door is open.  The Father is waiting.  The party is for you.  What is one thing you can do to say, yes, to your invitation to the feast?

• List all of the things that you feel have been poured into your life from the fount of love.  Write a prayer of thanksgiving and rejoicing.

• If you haven't already, watch this video.  Really.  If you watched it once, watch it again.  God loves you.

- Carry with you into the rest of your day the sure knowledge that a celebration more wonderful than the most resplendent feast you can imagine is being prepared for you.  That is how much you are loved.  Bask in the glow of your belovedness.

Lenten Journey: The Inheritance

Then he said, "A man had two sons, and the younger son said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of your estate that should come to me.' So the father divided the property between them.

- Luke 15:11-12

For Reflection...

What was the father thinking?  It was as if he were dead, only he wasn't.  If he had been, if the inheritance had come to his sons in the standard way, he wouldn't have been present to witness the consequences.  Instead, in an act of fearless generosity, or reckless abandon, he gives them everything and stands by to watch the drama unfold.

What does he see?  He sees his older son continue unwaveringly on the well-worn path.  He doesn't spend his inheritance.  Maybe he buries it (Matthew 25:18).  All is safe and sound.  No reward, no risk.  The father sees him day by day, sees the groove he walks become a rut.

The father also sees his younger son.  He sees him pack his things.  He sees him walk down the road to God-knows-where.  Will he ever lay eyes on him again?  Where is he going?  Away.  To a far distant country.

The father can't be surprised.  He knows his sons, knew this might happen.  One son, stolid but tethered, the other, untethered but wanton.  The father might even have dreaded seeing it, but he has allowed it.

This is a portion of the inheritance -- the freedom to stand still and the freedom to walk away and keep on walking.

The inheritance comes with no strings attached.  Both sons are free to do with the inheritance what they will.  And they do.

Meanwhile, the father watches.  We know he is watching.  Maybe he looks out at the road as he looks  across the fields, seeing one son at his labors, waiting to see the other coming back across the horizon.

For Entering In...

- Wherever you are right now, God is present too.  Look around you.  Are your surroundings familiar or new to you?  What do you notice?  Can you recognize that God is here, now?

- Reflect on these questions:

• How do you understand the father's decision to say, yes, to giving the inheritance to his sons?  Do you see it as generous?  Foolish?  Or something else?  

• What do you think of as your "inheritance"?  From your parents or other family?  From God?  How are you spending it?  Or have you buried it to keep it safe?

• Have you ever given something of yourself away freely only to see it abused?  Maybe money?  Your friendship?  Your heart?  What happened?  How did -- or does -- that feel?

• Have you created a rut for yourself?  What is that like?  Or do you keep moving, never finding a comfortable groove?

• How do you understand freedom?  Are you free to live as you choose?  What does that mean?  What are the potential consequences when you choose to exercise your freedom?  The good?  The not-so-good?

- Remember your prayer word?  Return to it, if you have forgotten to do so these past few days.  Breathe into that word.  Where does it reside in your body?  Notice how it feels.

Lenten Journey: The Younger Son

Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

For Reflection...

It's taken me a while to get around to the younger son.  I've so identified with the elder.  I have begun to imagine the relationship between the brothers, but it's a further step to put my feet in the sandals of the younger son.  Still...

If I'm honest, there are times I'd like to run away from home.  Give me my inheritance.  I'm tired of the rules.  I'm tired of the responsibilities.  I want to eat, drink, and be merry.

Why is it so much easier to own the older son part of me, the part that is crabbed and resentful and not so much fun?  Why is it so much harder to say, And underneath, I'm someone who wants to hang out and have a good time.

Because I see the younger son only as selfish.  By asking for his inheritance, he basically tells his father he wishes the old man were dead.  By leaving, he saddles the older son with all the work of running the farm.  And yet...

I envy him.  There's a part of me that knows I'd like to do what he does; I just don't have the nerve.  It's easier to judge the younger son than to admit that I have the same desires, even if I don't act on them.

Of course, my running-away-from-home fantasy doesn't include the part about running out of money.  Or the part about slopping the pigs.  Or the part about nearly starving to death.  Or the part where I have to come crawling home.  No, in my fantasy it's all the fun and none of the hangover.

But it's not really the pig sty I'm afraid of.  I'm not afraid of where I'll end up, but of the dust-up I'll leave behind.  I'm not so afraid of where I might go as of what judgments I might stir up in my wake.

Because I'm not so sure that everything about the younger son is so very bad. Sure, running away and leaving it all behind is a questionable strategy, but isn't there something between the younger son's grab for his share and the older son's inability to join in the party?  Is there a place we can find where we can both, older son and younger, help out around the farm and still enjoy sharing the fatted calf?

For Entering In...

- Wherever you are right now, God is present too.  Look around you.  Are your surroundings familiar or new to you?  What do you notice?  Can you recognize that God is here, now?

- Reflect on these questions:

• I suspect the older son feels selfless next to the younger son's selfishness.  How do those opposing dynamics play out in you?  What do you do that you think of as selfless?  Dig deep and wonder, what are your true motives?

• Is there something you do for yourself that you judge as selfish?  Is it really?  Does it hurt others?  Does it hurt you?  If so, pray about what it is you really need.  How can get that need met without hurting anyone?  If it doesn't hurt anyone, pray about whether it is, in fact, selfish.

• Is there an area of your life where you are being called to pitch in a little more, to take the burden off of someone else?  Is there a way in which you are being called to set aside your own burden and celebrate?

• Spend some time in the quiet holding in tension what you are discovering about your inner older and younger sons.  Don't try to reconcile them.  Notice what God has to say in the dynamic between them.

- Breathe deeply and notice the air as it fills your body.  Every breath is a gift, a dimension of the Father's bounty that belongs to us (Luke 15:22-23, 31).  Carry that awareness back into your day.

Lenten Journey: Brothers

Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

For Reflection...

"A man had two sons..."  Can you imagine if these two were real-life brothers, growing up in the same home?  The elder would be charged with keeping a watchful eye on the younger.  He'd know what he was up to -- no good -- and not up to -- any work that needed to be done.  He'd feel superior, self-righteous.

Meanwhile, the younger son...  Maybe he'd start by looking up to his brother, trying to emulate him.  But it's just not him.  He's got his own gifts.  He might not be the hardest worker, but he knows how to have a good time.  He's funny, charismatic, the life of the party.  He relishes his own verve and wit, but all he gets in return are his brother's stern looks and judgments.  Maybe his parents chime in too:  Why can't you be more like your brother?  The older son is confirmed in his righteousness, the younger in the belief that he can't get what he wants at home.

On the outside, I am all older son -- responsible, serious, practical homebody.  I've never identified with the younger son -- or, perhaps it's more honest to say that I've never allowed myself to.  My older son keeps my younger son firmly in check with no end of stern looks and judgments.  The older son in me knows full well that if my younger son is left to his own devices, things will end badly.  There will go the inheritance, squandered on a life of dissipation.

At the same time, my older son, while wanting to lock my younger son up at home, secretly and sometimes vehemently envies all the younger sons who leave home for distant countries.  Younger sons know what they want -- and they ask for it:  "Father, give me the share of your estate that should come to me."  And the father does.  Older sons don't know what they really want -- maybe a party of their own with enough young goat for everyone? -- but they're not so sure, and they don't ask.

The younger son in the story moves out, and the older son is proved right, isn't he?  The inheritance swallowed up by prostitutes.  The younger son's road ends in the worst possible place -- a pig sty.

Or does it?  In fact, the younger son's road ends in a U-turn.  The end of the road is the beginning, only with fresh robes and rings and the fatted calf and a party to end all parties.

The parable ends without any meeting of the brothers.  I wonder what such a confrontation might yield.  What would the older brother see in the younger?  The younger in the elder?

For Entering In...

- Where has God been in your day so far?  Can you become quiet and notice the beating of your own heart and know that God is there, breathing along with you?

- Reflect on these questions:

• Is there a "younger son" in you that you deny?  Time to dig deeper:  What would you do if there were no consequences?  To what far distant country would you travel?  What would you do there?

• What are your judgments about what you want?  What keeps you from asking?  What are you afraid would happen if you allowed your younger son free reign with his portion of the inheritance?

• The father in the parable gives the younger son what he wants, even while, we presume, knowing how the son is likely to spend it.  What do you think about this sort of radical freedom?  What are the potential risks?  The potential rewards?

• How might you live your life differently if you believed that the end of the road was never a pig sty, and always the chance to make a U-turn toward home?

- Breathe deeply and notice the air as it fills your body.  Every breath is a gift, a dimension of the Father's bounty that belongs to us (Luke 15:22-23, 31).  Carry that awareness back into your day.

Lenten Journey: The Older Son

Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

For Reflection...

"A man had two sons..."  That's how the parable begins.  The next part, the part we know the best, is about the younger son who takes his share of the estate, skips town, parties 'til he's broke, then comes crying home.

The older son doesn't come in until near the end.  That figures, says the older son in me.

It is the older son with whom I most often identify.  He's the one who stays at home.  He's the one working away in the fields.  He does the right thing.  He helps his father.  He doesn't cause any trouble.  He doesn't ask for anything, not so much as a goat.

I'll bet he's a good Jew.  Always says his prayers.  Follows God's Law to the letter.  Except for the part where we're called to "taste and see that the Lord is good" (Psalm 34:9).  I know, because the Father practically begs this older son to come in to the party, and the son won't come.  "Taste and see that the Lord is good," the Father seems to say, but his older son cannot.

Neither can I sometimes.  Like the older son, I get tired, sick and tired.  The party started while I was still out in the field (v. 25).  As a matter of fact, my Father's other son (no brother of mine) has been partying all his life while I've been shoveling the manure.  I'm in no mood to celebrate and rejoice (v. 32).

But the party will go on, with or without the older son, with our without me.  The parable ends with the question implied:  Will he go in, or won't he?


For Entering In...

- Take a deep breath.  Close your eyes and feel the surface you're sitting on, notice your body in space.  Think about where you believe your soul resides and breathe into that space, knowing God dwells there too.

- Reflect on these questions:

• In what ways have you, like the older son, tried to do the right thing with your inheritance?  When have you chosen to remain at home in spite of the lure of the distant country?  What are the fields you've labored in?

• The older son is resentful because he believes that his sacrifice has gone unrecognized (v. 29), not unlike the lament of Cain in Genesis (4:5ff).  Consider sacrifices you feel you've made.  Is there something you've expect in return?  Accolades?  Thanks?  Acknowledgement?  Be honest.  How does has it felt to you if those expectations have not been met?

• Can you think of a time when you've seen someone get something you don't believe they deserve?  Maybe an advancement at work?  Money or other material wealth?  Some other sort of success?  Or, like the younger son in the parable, excessive pardon for wrongs committed?  How has that made you feel?

• Jesus repeatedly uses images of celebration to describe what it's like to enter the Kingdom of God (see Matthew 22 and Luke 14).  Do you ever feel reluctant to enter into the party?  If so, what is that like for you?  What is keeping you out?

- Breathe deeply again and notice the air as it fills your body.  Every breath is a gift, a dimension of the Father's bounty that belongs to us (Luke 15:31).  Carry that awareness back into your day.

Lenten Journey: Fourth Sunday - Coming Home

Scripture Readings of the Day

Joshua  5:9a, 10-12

Psalm 34

2 Corinthians 5:17-21

Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

For Reflection...

In the book of Joshua, the Israelites finally come home to the Promised Land.  In the gospel, the younger son comes home to his prodigal father.  And in 2 Corinthians we -- and all the world with us -- come home to God through Christ.

We spend so much of our lives feeling like exiles wandering in a distant country.  We are desert dwellers, refugees from Egypt, surviving on manna and quail.  We have gone our own way, squandered our inheritance, and are reduced to slopping the pigs.

We live with the persistent sense that wherever we are, we are not at home.  And the moments when we feel as though we have finally arrived, in their passing, only serve to reinforce that we're not there yet.

Still, we continue to wander.  We can't build our cities in the desert.  We don't finally eat from the slop bucket, hungry though we are.  Our restless longing is for a place we know we know.  There is something inside of us that won't let us rest until we've made our return.

For Entering In...

- Have you come to feel comfortable in a space where you can spend time in the quiet?  What do you need to have that space, that time, to become present to yourself and to God?

- Reflect on these questions:

• Think about your experience of home.  What comes to mind?  A particular place?  A structure?  Furnishings?  People?  Close your eyes and know what it feels like in your body when you are at "home."

• What has been your experience of leaving home?  Maybe when you went to college.  Maybe when you got married.  Maybe when you went on a trip without your parents for the first time.  Maybe when you moved to a new city or state or country.  Maybe something else.  What is that feeling?  What does it feel like in your body when you reflect on leaving home?

• Have you ever been lost?  Have you ever been homesick?  Have you ever wanted to go home and somehow couldn't?  What happened?  Can you remember how that felt?

• Do you relate to the idea that we live with a sense of "restless longing"?  What do you long for?  Spend a few minutes with yourself taking inventory -- what are all the things that are standing between you and feeling at home in your life?  Notice each thing that comes up.  Don't think of these experiences as problems to be solved.  Just acknowledge them and let them be.

- As you wind down this time apart, consider the degree to which your interludes of focused prayer lead you to feel at home -- or in exile.