Today's text
Matthew 16:24-25
Then Jesus said to his disciples, 'If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me. Anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it.
I have lived long enough to know the need of the heart to be given away.
When I was young, I succumbed to the temptation to believe that everything was about me--my education, my growth, my development, my choices, my freedom, my vocation, my success, my reputation.
But somewhere in the midst of living a blessed thing happens, a discovery comes. You realize that there is something more important than you. You realize that what happens to someone else is more important to you than what happens to yourself.
It is then, only then, that we begin to become truly human, truly reflecting the image of God.
I look at my relationships. Where do I find truest joy? Where is my heart most warmed? Where does deepest satisfaction appear?
It’s obvious. My children, my grandchildren, seeing my wife’s smile, a smile I am pledged to treasure and nurture as long as I live.
In these relationships, I am most willing and able to give, to surrender self-interest for the sake of others. I am willing to risk myself. That reflex to protect my honor, my status, to insist on my way, weakens and wanes.
For my heart knows: What happens to them is more important to me than what happens to me. I feel no loss in this. I am not diminished in any way.
In giving, I gain. In losing myself for them, I become more alive. In surrendering to their need, I know more joy, not less. My heart grows. My soul swells. I feel the abundance of life, the freshness of living, finally, as a human being.
This is the way God’s love works in us. This is the way of Jesus, the paschal mystery that leads ever from death to life.
Pr. David L. Miller
http://prayingthemystery.blogspot.com/
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Friday, August 29, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Today’s text
Matthew 16:24-26
Then Jesus said to his disciples, 'If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me. Anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it. What, then, will anyone gain by winning the whole world and forfeiting his life? Or what can anyone offer in exchange for his life?’
Prayer
What is real? What is not? We have it confused, entirely turned about. We think the real is the person we are, the position we possess, the reputation we have assembled, the identity we have crafted, the successes we have achieved, the possessions we have gathered. And we rightly care for all these things. We need them.
But all these things are temporary, ephemeral forms that will pass away. Health, too, is too soon lost; appearance fades with our hard won reputations at work, school and business. All this is passing, though we treat them as the most real things in our lives.
But the real is the solid, the enduring, that which time and fate can’t take away, that which does not corrode or rust. The real is the eternal.
The things that occupy most of our lives are passing forms, not lasting reality. We seek our lives, our meaning, our security, our assurance of heart in those things certain to fail us.
But life is in one truth alone--the enduring and unfailing, the immeasurable mercy we feel in the presence of unfailing love. We awake each morning because the One who is life is delighted to share the mysterious substance of that life is with us.
This is eternity’s act of unsought generosity. Life is given. We feel it in our bones and blood. We are aware that we are--and that we are here, alive. We are here because of realities over which we have no control, about which we made no decision. We are gifted with life, the life of Life’s Source, eternal and abundant. It throbs through our arteries. It fills us with joy and exaltation in moments of gratitude when we feel most vital and alive.
This is awareness of the real. It yields a flood of gratitude and joy. Sit in this awareness a moment and one knows: we bear something true, lasting and eternal, something that is not merely a passing form.
Jesus invites us to look beyond the passing forms we confuse with real life and see the love and mercy freely flowing from his hands and heart. It is evident in his words and acts of healing mercy.
‘Know this,’ he says. ‘This love is the real, the true, the eternal. It is the Infinite Source from which you come. You will find out who you are only here, seeing and receiving, sharing and playing in this grace. You will find eternity here. Everything else passes away, but not this.’
Pr. David L. Miller
Matthew 16:24-26
Then Jesus said to his disciples, 'If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me. Anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it. What, then, will anyone gain by winning the whole world and forfeiting his life? Or what can anyone offer in exchange for his life?’
Prayer
What is real? What is not? We have it confused, entirely turned about. We think the real is the person we are, the position we possess, the reputation we have assembled, the identity we have crafted, the successes we have achieved, the possessions we have gathered. And we rightly care for all these things. We need them.
But all these things are temporary, ephemeral forms that will pass away. Health, too, is too soon lost; appearance fades with our hard won reputations at work, school and business. All this is passing, though we treat them as the most real things in our lives.
But the real is the solid, the enduring, that which time and fate can’t take away, that which does not corrode or rust. The real is the eternal.
The things that occupy most of our lives are passing forms, not lasting reality. We seek our lives, our meaning, our security, our assurance of heart in those things certain to fail us.
But life is in one truth alone--the enduring and unfailing, the immeasurable mercy we feel in the presence of unfailing love. We awake each morning because the One who is life is delighted to share the mysterious substance of that life is with us.
This is eternity’s act of unsought generosity. Life is given. We feel it in our bones and blood. We are aware that we are--and that we are here, alive. We are here because of realities over which we have no control, about which we made no decision. We are gifted with life, the life of Life’s Source, eternal and abundant. It throbs through our arteries. It fills us with joy and exaltation in moments of gratitude when we feel most vital and alive.
This is awareness of the real. It yields a flood of gratitude and joy. Sit in this awareness a moment and one knows: we bear something true, lasting and eternal, something that is not merely a passing form.
Jesus invites us to look beyond the passing forms we confuse with real life and see the love and mercy freely flowing from his hands and heart. It is evident in his words and acts of healing mercy.
‘Know this,’ he says. ‘This love is the real, the true, the eternal. It is the Infinite Source from which you come. You will find out who you are only here, seeing and receiving, sharing and playing in this grace. You will find eternity here. Everything else passes away, but not this.’
Pr. David L. Miller
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Today’s text
Matthew 16:23-24
Then Jesus said to his disciples, 'If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me. Anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it.’
Prayer
How could we ever know? The life that I think is mine is not.
We know--or think we know--who and what we are. We see what we look like, the face in the mirror, also what we own, objects that are important to us. We can name the people who are significant in our lives. We can list many of our good traits, strengths and successes, and we likely can produce a longer list of our frailties and failures.
We identify ourselves with all these things in one way or another. We are tall or short, a good athlete or uncoordinated, smart or slow on the uptake, successful in our work or struggling to get by. All these things and others we might mention tell us who we are.
So we hold onto these identifications, protecting them like a child fiercely clutching his favorite toy. We feel diminished when we lose any or all of those things which we identify, whether our belongings, our job, our health, our friends, our status or reputations.
This is a lie, Jesus says. Worse, it is the way of death, of never knowing who you really are, of failing to find the beauty of God’s life that seeks to shine in you.
We find our life by releasing those things we grasp to which we cling to give ourselves meaning and substance. Jesus invites us to another way, a way of caring for what we are and have but without all the grasping. We are not to identify with what we have or have accomplished, nor shall we identify ourselves with our failures or faults. These are not our identity, our life.
Our life lies hidden in his immeasurable love around and in us. Resting in that love, feeling its nudging within us, a bud of life pushing through the hard crust of anxious ego, we find our life, our joy, our beauty. No, we find the beauty of God’s life within us, struggling to emerge into the light of day through the flesh and blood of our lives.
Little wonder that some of the greatest beauty we ever see is in the lives of those who are dieing. Some of them cease identifying with what they own or have done and a greater beauty and love appears in them. They become more transparent to the true life within them.
In losing what we think we are, what we identify with, we find life that truly is life. Jesus, pry open our hands that we might stop clutching what we think we are and rest, finally, in the love that surrounds us and lies dormant within our souls.
Pr. David L. Miller
Matthew 16:23-24
Then Jesus said to his disciples, 'If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me. Anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it.’
Prayer
How could we ever know? The life that I think is mine is not.
We know--or think we know--who and what we are. We see what we look like, the face in the mirror, also what we own, objects that are important to us. We can name the people who are significant in our lives. We can list many of our good traits, strengths and successes, and we likely can produce a longer list of our frailties and failures.
We identify ourselves with all these things in one way or another. We are tall or short, a good athlete or uncoordinated, smart or slow on the uptake, successful in our work or struggling to get by. All these things and others we might mention tell us who we are.
So we hold onto these identifications, protecting them like a child fiercely clutching his favorite toy. We feel diminished when we lose any or all of those things which we identify, whether our belongings, our job, our health, our friends, our status or reputations.
This is a lie, Jesus says. Worse, it is the way of death, of never knowing who you really are, of failing to find the beauty of God’s life that seeks to shine in you.
We find our life by releasing those things we grasp to which we cling to give ourselves meaning and substance. Jesus invites us to another way, a way of caring for what we are and have but without all the grasping. We are not to identify with what we have or have accomplished, nor shall we identify ourselves with our failures or faults. These are not our identity, our life.
Our life lies hidden in his immeasurable love around and in us. Resting in that love, feeling its nudging within us, a bud of life pushing through the hard crust of anxious ego, we find our life, our joy, our beauty. No, we find the beauty of God’s life within us, struggling to emerge into the light of day through the flesh and blood of our lives.
Little wonder that some of the greatest beauty we ever see is in the lives of those who are dieing. Some of them cease identifying with what they own or have done and a greater beauty and love appears in them. They become more transparent to the true life within them.
In losing what we think we are, what we identify with, we find life that truly is life. Jesus, pry open our hands that we might stop clutching what we think we are and rest, finally, in the love that surrounds us and lies dormant within our souls.
Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Today’s text
Matthew 16:21-23
From then onwards Jesus began to make it clear to his disciples that he was destined to go to Jerusalem and suffer grievously at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes and to be put to death and to be raised up on the third day. Then, taking him aside, Peter started to rebuke him. 'Heaven preserve you, Lord,' he said, 'this must not happen to you.' But he turned and said to Peter, 'Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle in my path, because you are thinking not as God thinks but as human beings do.' Then Jesus said to his disciples, 'If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me.
Prayer
Jesus invites us beyond instinct, beyond what is natural and easy to what is true and breathing. Natural is as natural does: we hold back. We protect ourselves from danger, from emotional hurt.
Entering a new situation, few of us naturally throw ourselves into new relationships or duties. We hesitate. We walk with great care and are self-protective. This is safer than allowing oneself to be open and vulnerable. You don’t know what you are getting into, who you will meet and what challenges await, so the best part of wisdom is to go slow.
Fair enough, but the natural tendency to go easily, to refuse risk and vulnerability soon becomes a way of death. We hold fast to what we are, crouching behind a hard shield to ward off threats to our self, our way of being and living. We grasp what is so tightly that it is impossible to release one’s grip and let go.
Our grip is so tight about the here and now we can’t open our hearts to the invitation of the future, to fresh gifts, to new ways to being, to invitations to a future that doesn’t have to be like the past. It can be more, and so can we. No matter what.
‘Renounce yourself,’ Jesus invites. ‘Surrender to me,’ he says. ‘Relinquish what you are that you may follow and know me, not holding onto what you have been. Open heart and mind to what I will bring. Quit holding your breath that you may inhale the fresh air of my future.’
The way of truth and life is the way of our breath. We breathe in; we breathe out. We receive; we give up what we have received. To hold what is … is death, not breath.
So we meet the day with open heart and mind, praying, ‘Jesus, what will you give me today? What will you show me? I surrender what I have been for what your life-giving way will yet make of me.’
Pr. David L. Miller
Matthew 16:21-23
From then onwards Jesus began to make it clear to his disciples that he was destined to go to Jerusalem and suffer grievously at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes and to be put to death and to be raised up on the third day. Then, taking him aside, Peter started to rebuke him. 'Heaven preserve you, Lord,' he said, 'this must not happen to you.' But he turned and said to Peter, 'Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle in my path, because you are thinking not as God thinks but as human beings do.' Then Jesus said to his disciples, 'If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me.
Prayer
Jesus invites us beyond instinct, beyond what is natural and easy to what is true and breathing. Natural is as natural does: we hold back. We protect ourselves from danger, from emotional hurt.
Entering a new situation, few of us naturally throw ourselves into new relationships or duties. We hesitate. We walk with great care and are self-protective. This is safer than allowing oneself to be open and vulnerable. You don’t know what you are getting into, who you will meet and what challenges await, so the best part of wisdom is to go slow.
Fair enough, but the natural tendency to go easily, to refuse risk and vulnerability soon becomes a way of death. We hold fast to what we are, crouching behind a hard shield to ward off threats to our self, our way of being and living. We grasp what is so tightly that it is impossible to release one’s grip and let go.
Our grip is so tight about the here and now we can’t open our hearts to the invitation of the future, to fresh gifts, to new ways to being, to invitations to a future that doesn’t have to be like the past. It can be more, and so can we. No matter what.
‘Renounce yourself,’ Jesus invites. ‘Surrender to me,’ he says. ‘Relinquish what you are that you may follow and know me, not holding onto what you have been. Open heart and mind to what I will bring. Quit holding your breath that you may inhale the fresh air of my future.’
The way of truth and life is the way of our breath. We breathe in; we breathe out. We receive; we give up what we have received. To hold what is … is death, not breath.
So we meet the day with open heart and mind, praying, ‘Jesus, what will you give me today? What will you show me? I surrender what I have been for what your life-giving way will yet make of me.’
Pr. David L. Miller
Monday, August 25, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
Today’s text
Matthew 16:21-23
From then onwards Jesus began to make it clear to his disciples that he was destined to go to Jerusalem and suffer grievously at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes and to be put to death and to be raised up on the third day. Then, taking him aside, Peter started to rebuke him. 'Heaven preserve you, Lord,' he said, 'this must not happen to you.' But he turned and said to Peter, 'Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle in my path, because you are thinking not as God thinks but as human beings do.'
Prayer
‘Not to you; not to my friend.’ This thought is common to us. And it leads to a more gracious treatment of Peter … and of our own hearts.
I have never liked the way Peter is commonly treated in preaching and teaching. Often, Peter does not seem to ‘get it.’ The verses before this story show him understanding who Jesus is--the Christ, the face of the living God. He confesses what only those who dwell in the circle of grace around Jesus can know.
Peter ‘got it,’ but he didn’t understand what he knew, the implication of his confession or the dreadful days that would soon overshadow Jesus and his friends. So Jesus tells them. He doesn’t tell everyone, just those closest, the souls privileged to stand with him as he blessed, healed and taught, those most likely to have glimpsed the heart of eternity within him.
Peter objects, and a million preachers pounce, sensing an easy target for their rhetoric. They denounce him as dense and uncomprehending, but seldom do any savor Peter’s love for his friend. And they seem to have Jesus on their side, for Jesus appears to really give Peter hell. Or is it so simple? How can it be when human beings and emotion are involved?
This is a theological story, revealing what it means for Jesus to be the Son of the Living God, the face of the Eternal Wonder. He must suffer and die, only then can the truly new life in him shine forth in crystal splendor.
But this is a human story, too. Read it with one’s heart and Peter is readily understandable. He loves his friend. He wants never to be separated from the one, from Emmanuel, in whom he knows the nearness of God. He doesn’t understand what is to come. But he knows he wants to be with Jesus. Little wonder that he should say, ‘no, not you, not my friend.’
And he brings his objection to Jesus. He brings his heart and, yes, his incorrect understanding. Jesus knows Peter’s love would turn him from his purpose, which is why Peter’s words represent such a powerful temptation. It arises not from hatred or opposition, but from love, a love that needed to better understand the way of Jesus: new life can come only through the death of the old, through suffering and the cross.
It does us greater good to forgive Peter for his want of clear understanding. We often don’t know what God is doing in our lives either. But we do know that we hunger to be near that love that will never turn from us.
Holy and Gracious One, grant us proper understanding that we may love you aright.
Pr. David L. Miller
Matthew 16:21-23
From then onwards Jesus began to make it clear to his disciples that he was destined to go to Jerusalem and suffer grievously at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes and to be put to death and to be raised up on the third day. Then, taking him aside, Peter started to rebuke him. 'Heaven preserve you, Lord,' he said, 'this must not happen to you.' But he turned and said to Peter, 'Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle in my path, because you are thinking not as God thinks but as human beings do.'
Prayer
‘Not to you; not to my friend.’ This thought is common to us. And it leads to a more gracious treatment of Peter … and of our own hearts.
I have never liked the way Peter is commonly treated in preaching and teaching. Often, Peter does not seem to ‘get it.’ The verses before this story show him understanding who Jesus is--the Christ, the face of the living God. He confesses what only those who dwell in the circle of grace around Jesus can know.
Peter ‘got it,’ but he didn’t understand what he knew, the implication of his confession or the dreadful days that would soon overshadow Jesus and his friends. So Jesus tells them. He doesn’t tell everyone, just those closest, the souls privileged to stand with him as he blessed, healed and taught, those most likely to have glimpsed the heart of eternity within him.
Peter objects, and a million preachers pounce, sensing an easy target for their rhetoric. They denounce him as dense and uncomprehending, but seldom do any savor Peter’s love for his friend. And they seem to have Jesus on their side, for Jesus appears to really give Peter hell. Or is it so simple? How can it be when human beings and emotion are involved?
This is a theological story, revealing what it means for Jesus to be the Son of the Living God, the face of the Eternal Wonder. He must suffer and die, only then can the truly new life in him shine forth in crystal splendor.
But this is a human story, too. Read it with one’s heart and Peter is readily understandable. He loves his friend. He wants never to be separated from the one, from Emmanuel, in whom he knows the nearness of God. He doesn’t understand what is to come. But he knows he wants to be with Jesus. Little wonder that he should say, ‘no, not you, not my friend.’
And he brings his objection to Jesus. He brings his heart and, yes, his incorrect understanding. Jesus knows Peter’s love would turn him from his purpose, which is why Peter’s words represent such a powerful temptation. It arises not from hatred or opposition, but from love, a love that needed to better understand the way of Jesus: new life can come only through the death of the old, through suffering and the cross.
It does us greater good to forgive Peter for his want of clear understanding. We often don’t know what God is doing in our lives either. But we do know that we hunger to be near that love that will never turn from us.
Holy and Gracious One, grant us proper understanding that we may love you aright.
Pr. David L. Miller
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