Expansive hearts

A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. (Ezekiel 36:26)

Expansive hearts

Real spiritual growth moves us toward being magnanimous, literally big-hearted. Anything else is an impostor.

You can know the Bible front-to-back and be able to quote a verse for every occasion, annoying your friends while doing so.

You can pray for hours, meditate on scripture and practice an array of spiritual disciplines fit for a monk, but if you heart doesn’t get roomy and expansive its all for naught. You might as well save your time.

If you have not love, the Apostle Paul says, you are nothing, and you are definitely on the wrong road, not the way of Jesus, who is the way.

A contemporary assumption, growing rapidly in recent years, is that being Christian makes you narrow, judgmental. Christianity gets portrayed as anti-gay, anti-woman, anti- science, anti-intellectual; you get the idea.

Unfortunately, some Christians, including high profile preachers, produce enough arrogant, judgmental nonsense to suggest these perceptions may be correct.  

But the real mark of faith is a new heart, an expansive, magnanimous heart that can embrace others and this crazy world God so loves.

If you’ve recently accepted or forgiven someone through a major change of heart, you can be sure God had something to do with it.

Pr. David L. Miller

                                                                                        

Never alone

Christ, however, was faithful over God’s house as a son, and we are his house if we hold firm the confidence and the pride that belong to hope. (Hebrews 3:6)

Never alone

You are not alone. You belong.

You belong to the Love who greets you every time you retreat into yourself to pray your life and name you pains, joys and hopes. In the quiet space of your prayerful heart, you meet the One who shatters the existential loneliness that haunts every human soul.

So go there and pray, but do not stay there. The life of faith is not a solitary exercise but an invitation to belong to a house Christ builds as we are drawn into him.

All of us. As we are. Old and young. Accomplished and struggling. Sick and well. Progressive and conservative. All colors and ethnicities. All.

Christ joins us to each other, one people, one house. In our gatherings, we touch and know; we exchange the peace and break the bread of life to share—together. Never alone.

Christ is lives in our togetherness, and there we know his love as surely as we touch, hand-to-hand, and feel the warmth arms about our shoulders … welcoming us home, into the community of Love he is.

We need each other. In our togetherness, we meet the One who says, “You are never alone.”

Perhaps this has never been so important, for a terrible loneliness chills the heart of our society today. 

Google the word ‘loneliness’ and you quickly discover hundreds of articles detailing the nature of loneliness, its causes and damage to our physical and emotional health.

So do not resist opportunities to worship together and meet with other believers. Receive with joy invitations to share food and drink … and your life … with others who, like you, need to feel the truth: You are never alone.

Pr. David L. Miller

One perfect moment

The centurion sent friends to say to him, ‘Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof…. But only speak the word, and let my servant be healed. For I also am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to one, “Go,” and he goes, and to another, “Come,” and he comes, and to my slave, “Do this,” and the slave does it.’ When Jesus heard this he was amazed at him, and said, … ‘I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.’ (Luke 7:6b-9)

One perfect moment

There are perfect moments in life when exactly the right thing is said at exactly the right moment.

Such moments glisten in mind and heart, drawing our attention back to examine them again and again, reliving their joy, savoring their wisdom and marveling at how … in one exquisite instant we … or anyone … could have been so graced.

So it was for the Roman centurion who sent messengers to Jesus, seeking healing for his servant.

For one perfect moment, he epitomized what it means to be truly human and blessed. For one moment, he trusted that there is a Love that hungers to heal what is most broken in us.

For one moment he actually believed that Love would bless him and the one he loved.

For one moment he revealed the simple trust to which this extraordinary Love invites us.

His words, no, his heart reveals the trust to which Jesus invites each of us and the life God hungers to give us.

Jesus reveals the boundless heart of God, inviting us to know, truly know this Love hungers to make us whole, to heal what is broken, forgive what is wrong and assure us beyond every doubt that Love surrounds and holds us every moment, wherever we are.

“Trust me, Jesus says. Trust the One, the Love, who sent me.”

Trust, and you may just have one perfect moment … and more.

Pr. David L. Miller

One perfect moment

The centurion sent friends to say to him, ‘Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof…. But only speak the word, and let my servant be healed. For I also am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to one, “Go,” and he goes, and to another, “Come,” and he comes, and to my slave, “Do this,” and the slave does it.’ When Jesus heard this he was amazed at him, and said, … ‘I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.’ (Luke 7:6b-9)

One perfect moment

There are perfect moments in life when exactly the right thing is said at exactly the right moment.

Such moments glisten in mind and heart, drawing our attention back to examine them again and again, reliving their joy, savoring their wisdom and marveling at how … in one exquisite instant we … or anyone … could have been so graced.

So it was for the Roman centurion who sent messengers to Jesus, seeking healing for his servant.

For one perfect moment, he epitomized what it means to be truly human and blessed. For one moment, he trusted that there is a Love that hungers to heal what is most broken in us.

For one moment he actually believed that Love would bless him and the one he loved.

For one moment he revealed the simple trust to which this extraordinary Love invites us.

His words, no, his heart reveals the trust to which Jesus invites each of us and the life God hungers to give us.

Jesus reveals the boundless heart of God, inviting us to know, truly know this Love hungers to make us whole, to heal what is broken, forgive what is wrong and assure us beyond every doubt that Love surrounds and holds us every moment, wherever we are.

“Trust me, Jesus says. Trust the One, the Love, who sent me.”

Trust, and you may just have one perfect moment … and more.

Pr. David L. Miller

Look to the hills

I lift up my eyes to the hills—from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. (Psalm 121:1-2)

Look to the hills

I suppose it was natural for those in earlier times to look at the rocky heights and crags of mountains and think of God. Who, after all, could create that which dwarfs mere humans? Their Creator must be greater still.

Feeling small before such immensity awakens a silent knowing of the wonder and gift of being alive, witnesses to an earth more beautiful and inspiring than anything human ingenuity can create. 

Everything … even the hard stuff … begins to feel like a gift from a Giver beyond our capacity to imagine or understand.

Why is there anything at all, we ask, and why … this? And why am I moved to such love for what my senses strain to take in?

Perhaps this wonder, this love is what the Great Giver had in mind all along. Perhaps this love and wonder is who this Mystery is.

Just so, ancient and modern hearts begin to hope that the One who fashions every stony crag through untold millennia actually loves and cares for their little lives.

But however well God etches the divine name on mountain tops, the heart of God comes most clear on a hill a bit less high where a man hung on a cross, forgiving his enemies and surrendering to the mysterious Love he called “Father.”

Golgotha is the name of that hill where Jesus gave himself for the love of a broken world … and our broken hearts … that we may look to the hills and smile. No long wondering, but knowing … what the mountains only whisper.

Pr. David L. Miller

Handle with care

 ‘Take care that you do not despise one of these little ones; for, I tell you, in heaven their angels continually see the face of my Father in heaven. (Matthew 18:10)

Handle with care

Jesus had a more tender view of children than was common in his era. When others shooed them away he gathered them around himself to bless them.

They were not a nuisance or distraction but tender hearts eager to accept the blessing he was so willing to share. He wanted them to know how precious they are to God.

I suspect he found as much pleasure embracing and blessing them as do we. Seeing their smiles likely gave him as much joy as he gave them. It was also a welcome relief from arguments with those whose hearts were far less tender.

So he handled them with care, showing us what the heart of God is really like.

The little ones he mentions are not only children. They are the awkward and disadvantaged, the slow and socially inept. They are any who are too weak or unable to protect themselves from onslaughts of words and deeds that insult, injure, exclude or deny their dignity.

Every one of them has special place in the heart of God who sees the indignities and oppression they suffer, which might make us cringe when we remember our own insensitivity and apathy.

But guilt is not the point or God’s desire for us— life is, to be handled with the same extraordinary care God has for each of us.

Pr. David L. Miller

Ashes of identity

Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. (Psalm 51:1)

Ashes of identity

A little girl, six or seven, studied my face last Wednesday. What’s on your head? She asked.  “Ashes,” I said. “Why do you have that?” She asked, tilting her head for a better look.

Yes, why did I have that? Why go through this ritual every year?

As a young pastor, I cringed as I marked the foreheads of worshipers with the grim reminder, “Remember that you are dust and to the dust you shall return.” These were my friends, my people, faces I love.

I still recoil, especially when marking the head of a baby or small child, their innocent skin soft and untouched by hardship. They have barely begun to live and already we speak of death. Seems cruel.

But these ashes are not a mere smudge but in the form of the cross of Jesus Christ, expressing the deepest truth of life: All that falls … rises, that which dies comes to new and vibrant life in the warmth of the great love of God, a love that is for all.

Marked with a cross of ash, we know who we are and who God is. We are mortal, and God brings life out of every death we die. We fall prey to our selfishness and egoism, but the arms of the cross embrace us and whisper, “Let it go; you are mine.”

We fail to live out our highest ideals and feel unworthy, and God says, “I will lift you again and again into the fullness of a love that will never let you go.” As Christ was raised from death by the glory of God the Father, this glorious love continues to shape in us the mind of and heart of Christ.

So we wear our ashes without shame or fear, marked by the Everlasting Love who claims us, always knowing we are defined not by our failures but by this great and holy Love.

Pr. David L. Miller

At one

Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your holy spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and sustain in me a willing spirit. (Psalm 51:11-12)

At one

I long for you on these white winter days, O Lord.

I want to feel the warmth of your love welling up from deep within so that I know your presence. So I come here, to this place of prayer, where I speak and hear the sound of my needs echoing on the wall. 

I pray my emptiness, my regrets and my fears for those I love, hungry for the joy of simply knowing you. And it happens.

In the middle of a sentence, in a tear that springs to the eye, amid my awareness that I cannot give my heart what is most needed, you come. And in that moment, I know you.

Your heart fills my own, and I know you are pleased to come and fill me with a lightness of being where worry ceases and anxieties evaporate.  

There is only you … quieting my heart and letting me know that you long for my presence even more than I need yours.

So come to us on these wintry days, O Lord, lest our souls freeze hard as the chill winds that make us shiver. Teach us to pray our lives, and interrupt us whenever it pleases you.

We don’t mind. Not one bit.

Pr. David L. Miller

Red’s return

Let us know, let us press on to know the Lord; his appearing is as sure as the dawn; he will come to us like the showers, like the spring rains that water the earth.’ (Hosea 6:3)

Red's return

A sunny day this time of year has us itching for spring. Winter has gone on long enough. We’re tired of coats and eager to see the earth come alive in all its splendor.

Yes, it’s still too early to get our hopes up. Snow will cover the ground again. The temperature will dip lower than we like, but never mind. Hope wells from our depths, stirring impatience and anticipation for the first small signs of color and life to appear and wipe away winter gray.

And it happens. A familiar call interrupts a walk along a well-trekked path.  I hear spring, but cannot yet see it. Nothing in the high branches. The oaks are brown and bare as February can be.

The call sounds again, and I whistle, echoing the call, once, twice, three times, until a confused cardinal replies, likely thinking that’s the sickest bird I’ve ever heard.

But there he is, crimson fire in the low branches, alight against the blue of sky finally clear of winter’s gloom. A nearby female cocks her head at my clumsy attempt to enter her world.

I’m just glad she has entered mine.

Snows will yet come, ice and bitter winds, too. But the redbirds’ return awakens a smile of knowing that hope is not an illusion nor wishful thinking. Their call is the harbinger of tomorrow, the herald of life soon to rise from the cold earth … once more.

The message of hope is written into the fabric of creation, important to remember as we enter our annual Lenten confrontation with mortality and egoism. The message is clear. Never lose hope. Let it breathe.

The truth of Christ is etched in creation’s deepest code. Losses come, mortality is inescapable, and we are destined to fail our highest impulses.

But that which falls rises again, that which dies comes to life under the warm glow of a Love who holds each and every one. I know.

The red birds told me.

Pr. David L. Miller

The place of plenty

Do you not remember? When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?’ They said to him, ‘Twelve.’ ‘And the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?’ And they said to him, ‘Seven.’ Then he said to them, ‘Do you not yet understand?’ (Mark 8:18b-21)

The place of plenty

You are the place of plenty, dearest Christ, and you are never far off.

Beneath the roiling emotions of the moment, you remain, deep within, love eternal and unbounded, waiting for us to descend into the mystery of who we are.

That mystery is you, deep within. You are close as our breath, saints of old tell us. But too seldom we believe it.

We confuse ourselves with the struggles or successes of the day, with what we have accomplished … or not, with guilt we carry or wounds that have never quite healed.

But our real identity is eternal and unchanging, even as the emotions of the hour toss us about.

We are the love that appears when we pray, aloud, releasing the tensions of the day into the air. It is then we discover we are something more, something profoundly alive and beautiful.

It is love, the Love Christ is, deep and ever-plentiful, we find beneath our fears and façade, hidden by our defenses and the social clothing in which we dress ourselves.

We should go, often, to this place of plenty, and receive the food which satisfies the soul. The One who awaits you within is Love and nothing but, who wonders why you do not return every day to eat the food that fills and frees your heart.  

‘Do you not see?’ he pleas. ‘I am Love, always there, always enough, always plenty for every need.’

Pr. David L. Miller

The way of we

‘You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, “You shall not murder”; and “whoever murders shall be liable to judgement.” But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgement; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, “You fool”, you will be liable to the hell of fire. So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister (Matthew 5:21-24)

The way of we

We. This is the most important word for today. Each of us are essential members of much larger realities—families, congregations, communities, nations, relationships of all types.

How we speak and act in these groups affects whether the “we” to which we belong is a heaven or hell, bane or blessing for ourselves and countless others.

Jesus calls us to walk the way of we, not the way of me … that our life together may be seasoned with the blessing and joy God intends for human community. He lays out a way for us that is gracious and faithful to God’s will.

Anger and hatred must not be indulged. They poison the soul and rip families, communities and nations apart. They lace arenas of human care and nurture with bitterness and mistrust.

Measure words and actions by whether they nurture relationships of mutual care and concern. Resist the insatiable demands of ego to get your own way, lest your rights be infringed. 

Seek unity with others. Take the first step to reconcile and make peace where differences divide. Speak simply and clearly that your words may be trustworthy and true (and few), avoiding all deception.

You need not do this to win God’s favor. Christ has already named you blessed, beloved.  Everything that is in him is yours—overflowing grace, unlimited welcome, unconditional forgiveness, living water when your heart runs dry, eternal life when you think life is gone. All yours.

In Christ, the Holy One is creating a new world, the kingdom of heaven. In this community of divine love, the blessings of creation and the fullness of God’s favor are freely shared among everyone and everything.

Walking the way of Jesus, we are Christ’s partners in this holy endeavor, essential members of the great We our Lord is creating.

Pr. David L. Miller

Let it shine

‘You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. (Matthew 5:14-16)

Let it shine

Luciana’s photo popped up on her mom’s Facebook page. The photo was blurry and a little dark, but her unmistakable, toothy grin shined even brighter than the flame on the baptismal candle sparkling in her eyes.

She’s six now, and that candle has been lit on her baptismal anniversary every year since the day I poured water over her head and held up her candle for everyone one to see. The candle burns … reminding her who she is.

She is a beloved child of God, a holy vessel of an everlasting love. The light of God’s joy and love dances in her eyes and illumines the heart of her family … and of our congregation.

Days will come that darken her eyes, when doubts appear, when she imagines she has done something wrong, when she feels rejected or doesn’t feel “good enough.” Moments of sadness will shadow her smile when loss and disappointments cause her to forget how precious and beautiful she is … and how much we need the love shining from her heart.

Whenever happens for her … or for any of us, I hope there is something or someone to whisper the truth: You are the light of the world. The love of Jesus shines in your heart. 

Never forget. This is who you are. So let it shine.

Pr. David L. Miller

Blessed are you

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying: ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 5:1-3)

Blessed are you

Even here, even now, you are blessed, no matter what joy or struggle is yours today. Look and see.

Jesus looks and sees the crowds. They are male and female, young and old, sick and well, poor and, well, most are very poor. He sees beyond outward appearance to the urgency of their hearts, eagerly waiting, hoping to hear something that will bless and fan the flame of hope.

But he sees even more. Jesus sees the everlasting love of God at work in all of life and in their lives. They are blessed, but they do not see it.  

The poverty of their hearts is the presence of God’s Spirit drawing them to the fullness of love that is theirs. Their sadness over losses and painful lives opens their souls to the One who will pour life and love into their hurts.

Their hunger for mercy and peace reveals the Spirit laboring deep within them, crying out for God to heal the cycle of hurt and retribution that has scarred human history ever since Cain killed Abel.

Their thirst for righteousness is a prayer for the kingdom of heaven to fill the world with the very compassion with which Jesus sees the crowds as they gather around him.

The kingdom of blessedness is alive within them, working, praying, aching, crying out, drawing them to the feet of the One who will open their eyes to the everlasting love who heals their hearts and the troubled world they inhabit.

Blessedness is the deepest truth of their lives … and ours. So open our eyes, Lord, that we may see and know blessing you are. 

Pr. David L. Miller

Everyday salvation

Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying, ‘Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.’ (Luke 2:28-32)

Everyday salvation

Hope for more. Every day. Hope to see God’s living presence, fulfilling the divine promise to be present to save you from everything that crushes your spirit and steals joy from your heart.

The Holy One is always present to save. God is a saving God, always and ... in every circumstance. The Loving Mystery invites us to wake each day with a fresh and living hope that today, this very day, we can and will see salvation no matter what else is happening for us.

Simeon goes to the temple each day hoping to see the fulfillment of God’s promise. He wants to hold it in his hands and feel it in his heart. He hungers to be lifted into joy so that he can live and die in peace, knowing God’s faithful love.

Holding the infant Jesus, he gazes into the light of God’s loving presence and knows the salvation God intends for all people. For us.

Every day is a day of salvation. The living, loving presence of the One Simeon held and praised is present in everything that gives life, in every beauty, in every joy, in every moment that awakens love in our hearts. 

God is faithful love who is always present, coming to us in every love ever we ever know, longing for us to open our eyes to see and our hearts to receive the salvation that is ours. 

We experience salvation each time we feel the warm light of love’s presence making us whole and complete. Our circumstances may be wonderful or laced with loss and sorrow. Still, God comes in every love, every hope, every word of peace and promise that we, like Simeon, may see the face of salvation.

Look for this. Every day.

Pr David L. Miller

Not common at all

When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the law of the Lord, ‘Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord’), and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, ‘a pair of turtle-doves or two young pigeons.’ (Luke 2:22-24)

Not common at all

Nothing could be less conspicuous—a peasant couple in ancient Palestine doing what the law of their religion required. They go to the temple to offer the prescribed sacrifice.

There was no apparent reason for anyone to pay them much attention. This was routine in their culture, something that needed to be done, and they did it out of faithfulness to the God and faith of their people.

It is impossible for me not to love them as I imagine the two in common dress, bearing their child, ascending the steps of the temple mound—people of the land to whom those better off and better positioned paid little mind.

They remind me of the greatness of small things and the wonders so-called common folk do as they live and love, faithfully caring for children and the everyday needs life lays on their shoulders.

Long it has been said that the most significant things, the most beautiful acts, are done quietly, in out of the way places, by unassuming people … when no one is watching.

Routine, it seems, never is, but is rather the place of greatest loves and care, revealing the most profound faithfulness we can offer each other and the Love who breathes through smallest moments.

Of course, this was no common moment. Those two peasants carried the child who shines with the light of the divine heart. But then, we bear that light, too, our privilege and joy to play a part, however small or unnoticed, in God’s great love affair with the world.

Not common at all.

Pr. David L. Miller

Morning Mystery

Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, so that we may rejoice and be glad all our days. (Psalm 90:14)

Morning Mystery

Hands in the sink, immersed, the water hot, dishes from last night and morning’s breakfast. First, the small plates, the cup from which I drank tea, three coffee cups, a glass, a few forks, the knife bearing a trace of peanut butter, the spoon with which I ate oatmeal.

Each washed in the warmth embracing my hands, lifted from one sink to the next, there to be rinsed in water hot from the tap, soap draining off each one until the clear glass bowls glisten wet, ready for the white towel.

Out the window, a flash of red splits the dense, January gray, and perches on the birch, a woodpecker? What are you doing here? Don’t you have someplace warmer to be?

Back to the bowls, the small plates, the cups, each rubbed dry and stacked atop their fellows in the cupboards.

But what is this within? From where does it come?

Amid mundane repetitive motions, daily chore becomes prayer; wordless but undeniable love awakens within and warms body and soul … even more than the water that is grace and balm on winter hands.

A simple task, the mind barely engaged, becomes prayer in itself, love filling the heart and speaking a deep, silent thank you for one’s life.

Neither heart nor mind summoned this moment. It just is. It just comes, unbidden—this Heart deeper than my own filling every inward space, this Love who invites me to love it all, the whole mysterious mess of living, knowing at the heart of it … and at the heart of the mystery that is myself … lives this Mystery.

A holy gift, all of it. Everything. Thank you.

 Pr. David L. Miller

Love’s yearning

Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. So his fame spread throughout all Syria, and they brought to him all the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains, demoniacs, epileptics, and paralytics, and he cured them. (Matthew 4:23-24)

Love’s yearning

Hills rise quickly behind the village of Capernaum where Jesus made his home after leaving Nazareth. On the far northern shore of the Sea of Galilee, Capernaum was a fishing town, a trading town on the border between the rule of two regional governors.

Today, ruins of an ancient synagogue stand 100 meters or so from the shoreline, a few pillars and paving stones weathered and pocked by shuffling feet and exposure to the elements. The lake, blue and wind-whipped on summer afternoons, stretches eight miles wide and extends 15 miles south from this point.

It’s not hard to visualize Jesus walking the shoreline, talking to young men that soon followed on a journey that would cost them their lives and everything familiar to them.

Nor is it difficult to imagine the faces of anxious souls, filled with the kind of yearning only love begets, dragging their broken ones down the grassy hills, golden in summer’s sun, eyes up, alert, eager for this man rumored to have healing power … and a heart to share it.

Imagine their faces, the yearning, the hope, their love for those they drag to Jesus. See, too, the gathering around Jesus, a little community of hurt and hope forming around him.

Jesus’ message is etched in their faces, in the ache in their moist eyes. This is the Kingdom of Heaven, this gathering of those who love, this congregation of love’s yearning for the Love who yearns for us.

Two longings meet at this ancient place, the hope of the broken for life and the heart of the One who is life.

And not just there, but here, too, and now. Wherever human longing meets Love’s presence … the kingdom comes.

Pr. David L. Miller