Freedom road

 Jesus said to him, ‘If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’ When the young man heard this word, he went away grieving, for he had many possessions. (Matthew 19:21-22)

Freedom road

Start talking about demon possession and your friends will quickly remember an errand they need to run. Truth is, human beings are regularly possessed by all kinds of spirits: Greed, sloth, lust, anger, regret, vanity, gluttony, pride … not to mention spirits available in various bottles at your local grocery.

Large parts of modern economies are dependent on keeping us addicted, which is to say possessed by all kinds of things that distract us from the deep crying need at the center of our being.

Our hearts ache for something more, something we cannot name, and in rushes a host of products, activities, distractions and relationships of all kinds that that promise to still the ache, fill the emptiness and satisfy the heart.

And when one thing doesn’t work we may try another, avoiding the nagging truth engraved in our being that tells us we are made for something more.

This explains the downcast face of the rich young man who comes to Jesus … and it explains a great deal of our sadness, too. We give our hearts to that which does not satisfy the heart.

The rich man owned nothing because he was possessed by everything he imagined belonged to him. Unable to open his hands and heart, he could not receive the one thing for which his heart cried, the Love that satisfies.

He went away sad, but equally sad was Jesus who wills our freedom, freedom that comes only when we quit chasing and grasping our own private cures for what ails us, and let his Love fill us. It’s the road to freedom.

Pr. David L. Miller

 

 

 

Little things

 August, 8, 2020

[A] bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!’ When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Get up and do not be afraid.’ And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. (Matthew 17:5-8)

Little things

My daughter’s yellow lab, Bailey, knows the meaning of life. Her most frequent pose is to roll from side to back and expose her stomach so the rest of us can fulfill the meaning of our lives, which is to rub her belly.

She knows that we exist for her comfort, and this little thing assures her that all is well with the world. Scratch her belly, and she’ll never forget you.

Small gestures speak volumes in her world, really, in any world. A nod, a glance, a whispered word or even slightest touch can shout great love and care in ways that only a beloved can see and understand.

So I am drawn to the moment Jesus walks to his frightened friend and touches them—on the head, I suppose, since they crouched on the ground hiding their eyes from what, to them, was a fearful vision.

It’s a little thing, so small one wonders why the story teller bothered to record it, especially in his account of a powerful vision where the voice of God is heard. But it is this touch, not the voice or the vision, that I find most, well, touching.

It exudes care, gentleness, affection, tenderness, understanding—things we crave as much or more than Bailey likes her belly rubs.

Jesus doesn’t walk by his frightened friends. He touches them and in doing so touches me, touches all of us with the Love our souls long have craved.

“Get up. Do not be afraid,” Jesus said to the disciples with him. I’m thankful for those words, but I can barely hear them over the sound of his silent touch, telling me exactly what I need to know.

Pr. David L. Miller

Morning light

Then Jesus called the crowd to him and said to them, ‘Listen and understand: it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles.’ (Matthew 15:10-11)

Morning light

Early morning sunlight gilds the front room even through the tightly drawn blinds. The blinds, though white, glow, afire and gilt as bullion as the new day streams between the slats, flooding floor and walls, assaulting heavy eyes that are not yet ready to receive the gift.

The gift, of course, is this day. Ready or not, it comes from the Infinite Source of every new day, a Source we no more understand than we understand the mystery of our own existence.

For this, too, is a gift from that Secret Source who gives existence to that which is not: ex nihilo, out of nothing life comes, in the language of ancient theologians no one has yet improved upon.

My life, your life, the profusion of plants and animals I blithely pass during each walk through the woods, all of it exists even though once it was nothing, even though once there was … nothing.

Everything that is, including the imponderable mystery that I as a human soul should exist, all of it is simply given, existence to that which was not. I suppose this means that the nature of that Source we call God is to give, to share, to grant the privilege of being to that which otherwise would not be.

Gratitude is the only logical response, except for sharing, of course. Our nature is a gift of the One whose nature it is to give and share that life may abound. We are given life that we may share it. That is the message in the morning light.  

Anything less defiles the divine purpose inscribed on every human soul. So, today, let us live the lessons of the light. Perhaps we, too, may glow, alive and afire as the birth of this day.

Pr. David L. Miller

Longing for home

Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. (Matthew 13:13-14)

Longing for Home

Were I a film maker, I would freeze this moment. I’d fix the camera on Jesus’ face as he stands on the rocky beach, his face panning the crowd.

I’d let it linger on his face, then close in on his eyes, letting the mystery he is unfold in our hearts until the compassion in his soul brings tears to our eyes.

Feeling this, we’d know the meaning of that indefinable longing that rises unexpected within us. It comes in moments when beauty or grace or love or even suffering awakens this yearning, an unquenchable craving for something we cannot quite name, except maybe … home.

Behind every desire lies this one, this pining for a Love that is more than love, a Beauty that is more than beauty, a Healing that is final because it is the answer to that longing we have carried all our lives.

Seeing Jesus’ eyes, I know that for which every soul aches. We yearn to feel whatever is in him in us, to know his soul within our own … at that unreachable place which is the source of our longing.

We crave unbroken oneness with this Love. Only this satisfies our souls. This is the home for which our hungry hearts hunt in every moment and circumstance whether we recognize it or not.

Just I so, I stand beside him for a while, watching as he surveys the crowd, waiting for the moment that the Love in him awakens that Love within my own needy soul.

The moment may not come right away. I may need to wait. The wait may be long, but it will come … and carry me home.

Pr. David L Miller

Just for you

He came to his home town and began to teach the people in their synagogue, so that they were astounded and said, ‘Where did this man get this wisdom and these deeds of power? Is not this the carpenter’s son? Is not his mother called Mary? And are not his brothers James and Joseph and Simon and Judas? And are not all his sisters with us? Where then did this man get all this?’ And they took offence at him. (Matthew 13:54-57a)

Just for you

Our souls cry out to be known that the gifts within us might be shared. So it is not hard to imagine what Jesus felt as he walked away amid the whispers of those who thought they knew him.

Surely, he felt disappointment and frustration when he was dismissed by those in his hometown. But grief may have been the major emotion. He could not give, he could not bless, he could not share the beauty that was in him to lift their lives and ignite their hope.

His very soul was denied. The divine love that filled him could not flow out to engulf their hearts. He came to give a gift of soul and was denied by those who imagined there wasn’t much in him worth having. 

Little did they know that soul was a pearl of immense and surpassing worth. Little could they imagine that opening their hearts and minds to the depth of his being could yield a joy and hope that transcended every suffering and trouble they ever experienced.

Refusing him, they could not enter lives of knowing the immeasurable greatness of divine love.

Different as Jesus is from us, in many ways we are the same—human, born with a soul, each of us bearing unique gifts to be given away. Our daily task is to do as Jesus does—give whatever beauty and grace we find in ourselves, bearing the disappointment and moving on to try again when the gifts we would give are refused.

This is the way that leads to joy in both wonderful and terrible times.

And one more thing: Always open your heart and mind to the next person you meet. You do not know what the Holy One may have placed in their soul just for you.

Pr. David L. Miller

Becoming human

Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks (Luke 10:38-40a).

Becoming human

Come and sit here by me. This is Jesus’ invitation. Just sit. Here. You will rediscover your lost heart and remember who you are.

Living scatters consciousness. The mind spins from one thought to a disconnected next, flying off in divergent directions, losing track of the center, the heart of who we are.

Martha is a metaphor for fractured consciousness; distracted by many things every word and action bristles with impatient energy disconnected from any depth of heart and being. Everything gets done, but is there any love in it? Does her work flow from her heart or from feverish anxiety about superficial appearances?

At Jesus feet, Mary receives gifts of love and wisdom that penetrate the heart, filling her being so that she knows a deep acceptance and love embracing and filling her.

She becomes who she is, a human being, a vessel of this love who, like all of us, requires frequent filling because the stresses of life eclipse the heart.

When this happens, we live shallow lives. Words and actions leap of the top of our minds instead of flowing from the core of who we are as beloved beings. We lose ourselves, the joy of living from the heart of love where blessing and grace flow like water from a fountain.

Some live their entire lives in this unhappy state. For the rest of us, it is easy to lose ourselves in the whirl of living and perhaps especially amid the anxiety and sadness of Covid-19. With everything that has been lost during this time, the greatest is the loss of our souls, our heart, our humanity.

But we can be restored. For our humanity is a gift received while sitting at the feet of a great and all-surpassing love, who says, ‘Come sit by me. Let everything else go for a while and just be with me. You will find your heart.’

Pr. David L. Miller

That voice

Then Jesus left the crowds and went into the house. And his disciples approached him, saying, ‘Explain to us the parable of the weeds of the field.’ He answered, ‘The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man; the field is the world, and the good seed are the children of the kingdom (Matthew 13:36-38)

That voice

Listening to these words, I long for something the first disciples enjoyed every day. They could hear his voice. They could listen and ask him to explain what they did not understand. It is easy to imagine Jesus sitting among them, trying to explain mysteries they failed to grasp.

Understanding or not, they, themselves were grasped by the mystery of his presence, a presence that echoes through moments like these in stories from the gospels. Through them, his presence resonates through the centuries that, I, too, might be grasped and challenged to believe that the life I am living is ‘good seed.’

Would to God that it were always so. I’d like it to be so, but I wonder how many opportunities I’ve failed, times when attention or courage faltered, times when my words or actions might have blessed a soul or redirected a moment to something better than it was. And now more of this life lies behind than before me.

So I wonder: Is there time to become the soul God made in making me? Can this life shine with a love I have long felt but so poorly lived?

All of life is a becoming, at any age, and now I want nothing more than to hear Jesus’ voice resonating in my soul and to become what, he says, I am, good seed, destined to give the world a taste of his divine kindness.

More than his words, it is this presence, the sound of his voice speaking within, telling us we are more than we imagine, that frees us to become what we are.

Listen to that voice, the resonance of love incarnate.

Pr. David L. Miller

The Life who is in you

May grace and peace be ours in abundance. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! By his great mercy he has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. (1 Peter1:2-3)

The Life who is in you

Don’t settle for a life less than the one that is yours. It is not enough to endure shut-down and quarantine, waiting for the day we can discard our masks and hug old friends.

Each morning is resurrection, your resurrection. You are born anew. You rise under the gaze of the One who smiles and welcomes you in love to a new day.

Live. Now. Don’t wait for ‘normal times.’

Lift your head and look around with expectation. Look and see. You live in a world where Love lives, having shattered the grave. Cast off the gray shroud that veils your heart that you might see and feel the colors of earth’s wonder.

Look into the eyes of every person you meet and know this one, too, is an incarnation of the One who is Love, sent to you to love that you may be an agent of life.

Laugh at every small pleasure and joy. Release every fear of embarrassing yourself. Share every moment that blesses you. Sharing blessings binds our hearts with others, renewing both them and us.

The life in you is the Life Christ is, stronger than death, alive to every beauty, eager to receive each experience as an opportunity to feel and share the Love who is the blessed Source of each new day.

So don’t settle for merely surviving or enduring these times. Smile and know Life and Love lives at your core.  Feel it there … and live it out. This is your true life. Don’t let the mood of the moment obscure or take it away.

Raised anew each morning by the Love who smiles on your rising, you are more blessed than you know. Live this day with joy and purpose, sharing out the Life who is in you.

Pr. David L. Miller

Divine delight

‘Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. (Luke 12:32-33)

Divine delight

Every thought of a vengeful, punitive god vanishes, banished by the joy of these words. We understand little of God if we do not smile, feeling the solicitous warmth of Jesus’ heart as he speaks of God’s pleasure.

We take pleasure in those we love, the antics of our children when they are small, their joys and accomplishments as they grow, celebrations with friends and family alike. So why not God? Why not the Father of Lights from whom all things come?

God delights to give us the kingdom, a gracious space of unlimited welcome, where our hearts release all anxious striving and defensiveness, where healing replaces hate, where death holds no fear, where exuberance fills space once occupied by guilt and shame and love is the air we breathe.

The Holy One smiles at the joy of our hearts as we are delivered from doldrums of life into the kingdom of his presence. No less than we, certainly, God takes pleasure giving gifts to beloved ones. And certainly, we are that. Exactly.

The treasures of the kingdom we know in present time are shadows of what will be. Hold these treasures close in your heart. Don’t turn away.

You need the gracious space of the kingdom more than anything else you treasure. So release your grip, your fascination and desire for anything that distracts from the gifts God pleased to give.

Do this, and joy will be yours. I suspect God will be no less pleased.

Pr. David L. Miller

The Master's smile

‘Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. (Luke 12:35-36)

The Master’s smile

There is no threat in Jesus’ words. They are filled with promise and excitement, alive with anticipation for the joy of seeing and welcoming his presence because, well, you just never know where and when the beauty of his loving face will appear, his smile so eager to be with you and share your nearness.

This is who God is and what God is like—like a master coming to share the joy of the feast, a feast of union for heaven and earth are joined. God and creation are one, married and made one so that the laughter of eternity and the everlasting love of paradise now infuse this earth.

They are seen in every love and grace, experienced in all that is light and goodness. Behind, within and through them all, we glimpse the smile of the Master coming from the banquet, eager to share all its goodness with us.

So keep your lamps lit that you may see and welcome the Master who comes in every goodness, every gift, every beauty, every smile, every life-giving moment. Open your eyes to see that you may enter the joy of knowing the laughter for eternity, even now.

Pr. David L. Miller

Lamb's way

For I will pass through the land of Egypt that night, and I will strike down every firstborn in the land of Egypt, both human beings and animals; on all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgements: I am the Lord. The blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you live: when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and no plague shall destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt. (Exodus 12:12-13)

Lamb’s way

It is difficult to think that God would be the cause of deadly plague. And it doesn’t help to suggest this was necessary because only an ocean of tears could release Egypt’s grip on Israel’s throat.

The firstborn of the Egyptians included little children, innocents, mourned by mothers and fathers who had nothing to do with Pharaoh’s enslavement of the people of Israel. Most of them likely suffered themselves under his heavy hand. It’s totally unfair that they should suffer for the sins of the tyrant who ruled them.

You could say the lamb whose blood was smeared on Jewish doorposts was equally undeserving of the death it suffered, just like Jesus who centuries later was labeled the Lamb of God because he suffered without complaint, though innocent.

There’s a trajectory from the blood of the lamb to the blood of the Lamb. The first delivers one people and the latter delivers everyone, right down to us today—plus everyone and everything else that will ever be.

At the end of things, God promises to wipe every tear from every eye, which must include those ancient Egyptians grieving for their little ones, not to mention every person who ever suffered because of the sin and selfishness of others.

Still, the idea that God visited a plague killing so many innocents in Egypt remains no less troubling. But just maybe the idea that this was God’s work is just a matter of perception. Maybe the plague was natural occurrence those in bondage interpreted as God’s intervention to break the oppressor’s grip.

Maybe God is just as sad about dead Egyptians as about the atrocities some of their number savaged upon the people of Israel. Maybe the blood of Jesus, the Lamb, is the tears of the God who absorbs the immensity of sin and suffering of every time and place that we might see the Love who bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things and endures all things—refusing ever to curse or hate.

Maybe looking at him we might finally understand the way of love that redeems the world, the lamb’s way.

Pr. David L. Miller

The blessing of fear

Do not be afraid of them,

for I am with you to deliver you, says the Lord.’

Then the Lord put out his hand and touched my mouth; and the Lord said to me,
‘Now I have put my words in your mouth.
See, today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms,
to pluck up and to pull down,
to destroy and to overthrow,
to build and to plant.’ (Jeremiah 1:8-10)

The blessing of fear

These are the Lord’s words to his young prophet, Jeremiah, who lived in tumultuous times. His unfortunate task was proclaiming destruction to the great city of Jerusalem at the hands of a neighboring nation boiling hot for conquest.

It was a job no one should want, and all it ever got him was a boatload of trouble from fellow citizens who variously cursed and imprisoned him. Eventually, they threw him in a cistern where, fortunately, there was no water. He probably died in Egypt where his countrymen drug him as they escaped the carnage of their own country.

It’s the kind of story that makes for good cinema, but no one would want to live it.

What must it feel like to have a message written so deeply in your heart that you had to share it, even though you knew people would hate you for it? This was Jeremiah’s fate and the great pain he suffered for knowing God in the depth of his heart.

That should make us second guess our desire to get really close to this Holy Mystery, who might require a courage and conviction of us that we know we don’t have.

Still, the desire to feel God close stirs within. We long to hear that Voice whisper within, “Do not be afraid for I am with you.”

I suppose that’s the great thing about fear, the blessing of challenges that are too big for us. It is exactly then, exactly there that we are most likely to hear that Voice that quiets everything else.

Pr. David L. Miller

Freely and fully

There were also many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian.’ When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of the town, and led [Jesus] to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. (Luke 4:27-29)

Freely and fully

Only a free God is worth having; anything less is just a reflection of ourselves.

Trouble is, a free God can’t be tied to a particular place or people, to a preferred culture or way of operating. Divine freedom means we are not in control of much of anything. God can and will do crazy things, scary things, showing up in ungodlike  places, loving the wrong people, challenging our cherished opinions and pet theories about how God acts … or should.

Jesus offends his neighbors, telling them they have no particular claim on the attention and goodness of God. Furthermore, they never did, which was quite contrary to popular opinion.

God is free to be God for everyone, everywhere, which means the reach of the divine heart stretches beyond any and every horizon we can see.

That’s bad news for those who like to draw lines and exclude people, claiming some imagined superiority. But it is good news for every humble heart eager to receive what God in utter freedom lavishes upon every soul.

The first blessing is life itself, breath, the gift of waking under an expansive blue sky on a summer day, golden light filtering through the blinds, bidding the heart to live, one more day, knowing that this precious green planet and one’s own miniscule life are an incalculable miracle, an immense mystery, for there is no reason that they should be.

Except, they are. We are. Here. Existing. And every moment of this day is a holy gift, every breath, too, from a Living Source, who creates and blesses in infinite freedom, pouring out goodness that every people in every place might see and smile, knowing that nothing and no one can stem the generosity of the divine heart.

Jesus’ whole life is a parable of God’s freedom to give life and love beyond every human expectation.

Freely this great Love gives, so freely receive, then smile … and share the joy of God.

Pr. David L. Miller

Live, love, trust

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground unperceived by your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows. (Matthew 10:29-31)

Live, love, trust

A mallard sits in the middle of the street on our little cul-de-sac. Today, he sits alone. Other days his mate sits beside him. After a rain, they waddle down the street amid the puddles.

They are unconcerned with we, who call this street home. Apparently, it is their home, too, although their home is larger than the meager square feet of the townhouses that line Old George Way.

Their home includes the bushes where they shelter from the sun and the tiny pond where they shower beneath the spray shooting skyward. They also claim the sidewalk and the day lilies in back of the house.

Occasionally, our movements stir them, but they have no problem staring down cars forced to divert around them on the street. We pay our taxes and mortgages, but they own the place.

That’s fine with me; I suspect with the neighbors, too. We live together in harmony, although the mallards appear to have fewer worries. They live in the moment, inviting us to watch and learn, although I wonder how many human hearts are capable of such.

More than one spiritual writer suggests that anything that invites you to trust love is, for all practical purposes, Christ for you, at least in that moment. If so, then my mallard neighbor is the voice of the Love, who says, ‘Do not be afraid, you are of more value than the sparrows.’ I assume Jesus would include ducks in this, too.

My mallard neighbor has little idea that he is my teacher, the voice of Love who says, “Live, love, trust. You have no idea how precious you are.”

I just hope he returns often to sit outside my window. I can always use a reminder.

Pr. David L. Miller

Only you

When Jesus he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. (Matthew 9:36)

Only you

Our hearts ache for healing in these days. For me, healing is to be with you, here, apart from the noise of the world, where I can hear the voice of my longing and feel the smile of your love upon this soul, so needy in this turbulent time.

But even here, in this new place, this room I consecrate for the meeting of our hearts, I cannot escape the cries of our streets.

They echo in my heart and awaken longing for a world beyond the one we have, a world where all are one and you reign, your love shining in the eyes of every beloved soul, each one knowing their worth and honoring that of others.

Every soul alight, basking in glow of your delight flowing from the grace of your smile, healing the wounds of the past, banishing the shadows of race and hate and fear of our lost and confused human race.

This is my prayer, no, it is your prayer within this soul you claimed so long ago and refuse to release. Thank you for that and for this prayer that unites our hearts as one, one sorrow, one hope, one love for every wounded soul and broken society.

We need the healing that only you can give. Only a truly great love can assure us that we are welcome, accepted and treasured. Only this melts the hardness and fear that erects walls around our hearts.

Only your smile warming and awakening us to the delight you take in every human soul can set us free to be truly human, blessing each other across the boundaries that divide, even as we have been blessed.

Heal us, O Lord. Look with compassion on our lost and wandering hearts. Gather us into the warmth of your presence that we may learn to love each other as you love us.

Pr. David L. Miller

Ever here

John 16:5-7

But now I am going to him who sent me; yet none of you asks me, “Where are you going?” But because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your hearts. Nevertheless, I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Advocate [Paraclete] will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you.

Ever here

No one who has ever known you, Jesus, can imagine it is advantageous that you go away. For having known you, having felt your presence, we know this is our highest good and our most profound desire.

But it is for this that you go away. You, Jesus, warm sun of God’s own face, leave this physical sphere that the mystery you bear may be everywhere and everywhere with us, stilling the sad fear of separation.

You go that we may know this mysterious Presence you call Spirit, Advocate, Paraclete. And this name tells us what we most need to hear in these days.

Paraclete … one who answers the call. So answer our call in these days, separated, as we are, from many bearers of divine presence and love.

Answer the silent cry of our souls for which we lack words adequate to express the depth of our desire to feel your presence, the warmth within, the blessed knowing that you are not near but ever here.

Every ‘good bye’ I have ever felt—some that still bring tears for hearts and faces long ago—reveals the pain of those with whom you walked as they imagined losing you, having known you in the flesh, as we do not.

Or, do we?

Those whom I miss this day, are they not you, their flesh an incarnation of some facet of the immensity of Love you are?

In missing them, I miss you; so come. Answer the cry of our hearts that we may find your dwelling place deep within, that place where the warm sun of your divine heart quiets our own and awakens that smile … that knows: All is well, for Love is here. Always.

Pr. David L. Miller

Knowing peace

John 14:17

This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.

Knowing peace

To know has less to do with the mind that we normally expect. Knowing is a full body and soul experience, an inner awareness that overrides everything else happening in our lives at the moment, whether sadness, fear or this confounded isolation cutting us off from things we want and the people we love.

The Spirit of truth, an abiding presence, invites us to descend beneath the surface of life where nothing feels right to that place where everything is right. The Spirit draws us to that place within where you know as you are known … by a Knower, a Presence who is Love, uncreated, real, there ... and totally undefinable.

This is the Spirit of truth, a truth that is a Presence, a person, not a statement or idea. To know this One, to feel this Presence for even a moment, stills our anxieties and quiets the unruly waves that toss us about. In that moment, you know, with body and soul, that this Love holds you, and there is nothing on the surface of life that can ever change that.  

Now and forever, you are held in the all-encompassing Love that you know at the quiet center of your soul, the center point where all the noise fades away and there is just you and this Love you will never understand.

My peace I leave you, Jesus said. Millions have known this peace, which is his presence within them calming their fears and giving strength amid even the most difficult circumstances.

This peace passes all understanding, according to St. Paul. Of course it does. The busy mind likes to understand, manage and control things. But peace comes only in the presence of a Love no one can control.

Rest there and know.

Pr. David L. Miller

Always more

John 19:38-42

After this, Joseph of Arimathea, who was a disciple of Jesus -- though a secret one because he was afraid of the Jews -- asked Pilate to let him remove the body of Jesus. … Nicodemus came as well … and he brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds. They took the body of Jesus and bound it in linen cloths with the spices, following the Jewish burial custom. At the place where he had been crucified there was a garden, and in this garden a new tomb in which no one had yet been buried. Since it was the Jewish Day of Preparation and the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.

Always more

Well, that is that. Close the book. The most remarkable life ever lived is finished. Over. Done. Time to go home and forget it ever happened.

Caiaphas returns home to celebrate Passover. Pilate stretches out on his couch and drinks more than usual, knowing he has executed an innocent man. But it wasn’t the first time. It needed to done, he tells himself.

Joseph of Arimathea and friends go to prepare the tomb, brush away the dust and lay out the spices and linens.

Fumbling with the dead weight of Jesus’ body, they wrap him in strips of cloth—his feet and legs, hands and side, chest and shoulders, until, finally, his face … the face they loved even if they seldom understood him.

They carry out their heartbreaking work and lay their hopes to rest, burying the yearning they felt whenever they heard his voice.

All is quiet now. The crowds have dispersed. Public order is restored. The ancient lust for the blood has been satisfied.

Now is the hour of regret and sorrow, of whispers in the silence and echoes of what might have been. That’s all we have.

But that is not all God has. God has more. God is always more, more love, more life. Jesus trusted that more all the way to the cross.

And so we wait, trusting the One who is all life and all love because Sunday’s coming. The gloom of despair will be lit with the light of everlasting morning. The garden of sorrow will bloom with the fragrance of eternity.

Because God is more. Always.

Pr. David L. Miller

Hold me to it

Mark 15: 33-35, 37

When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?’ which means, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ … Then Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last.

Hold me to it

A black Jesus drew me into to a side chapel in the great Gothic cathedral in Barcelona, Spain, during my 2017 pilgrimage. I almost walked by, but the sight of him on the cross would not let me.

He was leprous and beaten, bearing the pangs of death as he hung before a half-dozen people praying among the spare wooden benches facing the crucifix.

I took my place among the benches and watched him. A great love for every suffering of every human soul whispered from the crucifix, “This love will never abandon you. This love will meet you everywhere you go. Look at me … and know. There is no place this love will not go for you.”

I sat and prayed—offering my unanswered questions, the wounds from which I ache to be healed, my regrets about the past and uncertainty about the future, most of all my craving to feel the joy of God’s love warming me through.

When words were done I walked to the back of the chapel but still couldn’t leave. Turing to the crucifix, I shook my finger at Jesus. “I’m holding you to this … this love,” I whispered. I’m holding you to this.”

“It’s okay,” came his reply. “That’s what I am for. Hold me to it.”

Pr. David L. Miller