Lessons from the Daily Lectionary – Saturday, March 14, 2009
Psalms 39, 64; Jeremiah 5:20-31; Romans 3:19-31; John 7:1-13
Meditation: Bonnie and I have been reading Anne Lamott’s book, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, as a kind of devotional. We laugh as we read her stories of starting a Sunday school at her little St. Andrew Presbyterian Church in California (“It turned out that I did not like children, or at any rate, they made me extremely nervous, and I had almost nothing to share with them, except that Jesus loved them, and I did, too, even when I was in a bad mood”). We appreciate that her humanity shows through (“Things are not perfect, because life is not TV and we are real people with scarred, worried hearts. But it’s amazing a lot of the time”). Perhaps most, we marvel at how she can turn a phrase. For instance, at one point she’s writing about the spring desert rains and how they cause tiny shrimp to be suddenly alive in sandy puddles. She calls them “God’s commas.” In two words she has both brought us a vivid vision of the shrimp’s shapes, and also has us pausing to notice them, God halting us in mid-sentence to see this miracle of nature.
Scripture turns a phrase or two every now and then, as well. From the “Lord is my shepherd” in Psalm 23 to Jesus’ great uses of metaphor: “I am the bread of life,” and his way of turning an attack back on an accuser (“should we pay taxes?”, “Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s and to God what belongs to God”). There is one in the psalm for today. In Psalm 39:11, the psalmist is meditating on the justice of God and writes: “You chastise mortals in punishment for sin, consuming like a moth what is dear to them; surely everyone is a breath.”
A different novelist named Ann – Annie Dillard – writes about an evening at a camp out, where she is finding re-creation for her spiritual being, prayerfully taking in the night sky with a candle as her only illumination. The candle attracts a moth, whose flight had been too quick to the flame. It isn’t able to turn away as it comes into the fire’s heat. In fact, it somehow sticks to the wick and is burned away, so that its carcass becomes a new wick. Dillard’s prayer similarly becomes an offering of her self to the God whose hand makes our beautiful and wild world, and to whom we must trust ourselves.
Look for that invitation to trust in our readings today. In our strengths, in our weaknesses, in our untrue boasts and humble confessions, God is always still God, and calls to us.
Prayer: Give us rest on this Sabbath day, O God. Make us mindful that you promise your people a day of rest so that we can know that your purpose for us is one of dignity and freedom. Let us find fellowship with you in that purpose. Six days you created, and then you rested, first. Grace is the gift you give us through faith. As we receive your offering, may we respond by offering ourselves to you as a blaze of glory. Amen.
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