Thursday, January 24, 2019

Walk with him

One Sabbath he was going through the cornfields; and as they made their way his disciples began to pluck heads of grain. The Pharisees said to him, ‘Look, why are they doing what is not lawful on the Sabbath?’ (Mark 2:23-24)

Walk with him

Jesus is our Sabbath. He invites us to walk with him through fields where he freely plucks heads of grain and glories in the light of day.

He does not rush. No anxiety moves him, no self-conscious worries about the objections of others.

Leisure marks his movements, as if he has all the time in the world to savor the warmth of day, the goodness of the growing earth, the fullness of all it produces. His heart smiles and gives silent glory to the Creator Source whose love is present in all that surrounds him in this moment.

He invites us to walk beside him and live this way. To breathe. To know. To savor every ounce of goodness. To see the earth as a holy gift, a sacrament of divine grace, a gift from the Holy One he knows as loving Father.

It is all for you. All that is, everything is given … that you may know … and that in knowing you may be moved to praise, reverence and serve the One who is Abundant Love, this Father, this Mystery Jesus knows as he walks the fields and feels the gift of it all.

Walk with him today, though the cold is bitter on this January morning. See yourself, feel yourself there … with him.

Being with him is Sabbath, rest for the mind, peace for the soul, warmth winter winds cannot chill.

Pr. David L. Miller

Monday, January 21, 2019

Yet to be

When the steward tasted the water that had become wine … the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, ‘Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now.’  (John 2:9-10)

Yet to be

The best is yet to be. Startled joy fills our faces when we know this. It is a surprise that runs contrary to common thought.

We fear losing what we have as the decades of life roll by, unable to imagine that anything in the future could we as good as what we know.

I suppose those who have suffered greatly in earlier stages of life are eager to release their past, hoping, if they can still hope, that something better lies ahead.

But as years go by our strength, health, family, relationships or our income diminish in one way or another, and we hold tight to what we have as long as we can.

Yet, here we meet an alternative way of being and living, looking ahead with hope—because there is good wine that can inebriate us with startled gratitude for the gracious goodness of living and loving.

Good wine awaits. The best is yet to be.

Some days it is hard to think this and harder still to write it, for it seem glib, Pollyannaish, until you know the bridegroom, Christ, who has married this earth. He shares the fullness of all he is that we may taste and see Love’s pure delight.

He is the good wine, the best wine, and there is always more. The best awaits, eager to surprise us with a joy that the years will never dim.

Pr. David L. Miller