Daily Lectionary Readings for Year A

The readings for today can help us begin our journey into Holy Week.  For three days now we have read Psalm 31:9-16.  This repetitive contemplation of the Psalm is like praying the Scriptures.  Lectio Devina is a spiritual practice of allowing the text to speak to our hearts.  This text has a lot to say.  It speaks of suffering and sorrow, of humiliation and pain, of trust and hope.  These are the prayers of those who are attacked by a deadly virus, as well as those who are hurting in body, mind, and spirit.  

Lamentations is a book in the Bible that weeps.  It contains the prayers and words we say when we are most desperate.  They are the words we speak when we are alone, feeling overwhelmed, or filled with fear and dread.  They are pleadings to God to rescue us in the time of our trial.  In naming the pain and the heartache, lamentations help us find our way through the most difficult times of life.

One person on Twitter posted this yesterday:
My Dad died of Covid 19 almost two weeks ago. I have lost hours of sleep thinking about him dying alone. ​ ​I found out last night that a nurse, a stranger, held his hand during his final minutes.​ ​I hope that nurse could hear me clapping last night. It was for them. 

​Our sorrows and all the worries we are experiencing ​lead us into Holy Week.  In the Gospel of Mark, as Jesus enters Jerusalem, some were amazed while others were afraid.  He goes knowing that suffering and death lie before him.  He goes to overcome the power of death's separation forever.  Jesus is on his way to the cross which soon will become a doorway into the light.  Let us follow.

Please tune in to worship tomorrow at 10 am, or anytime after.  

Peace,
Dean

Daily Lectionary Reading for Year A

The cries of the Psalmist, the suffering of Job, and Paul's contemplation of death while encouraging people to live fully meet us on this day.  Today, like days before, we wake to the news of more death.  Bill Withers died due to the coronavirus.  He wrote many amazing songs, including "Lean On Me" and "Grandma's Hands."  And so, we continue distancing from one another.  We know the alternative is grim.  Still, it is hard not to hug or connect to one another.  My mom wrote a poem.  Maybe we can find new ways to love one another and do all we can to keep people healthy.  

We’ve Got New Rules to Follow
by Phyllis Prentiss

We’ve got new rules to follow
and they are quite hard to swallow.

We wash our hands
and stay at home
It’s fine unless
you live alone.

We can’t help wondering
how it will end
with our social distant rules,
is there a new way to greet a friend?

We can’t hug anymore—-
maybe a bow!
It’s so easy and natural
We’ll have to learn how.

We bow with respect
when dignitaries meet.
We would have to get used to
a new way to greet.

We bow in square dances
in respect of each other;
Let’s give it a try
when we all get together!

Hugging and handshakes
will take a backseat
to a mysterious virus
we don’t want to meet.

Peace,
Dean

​Daily Lectionary Readings for Year A

I thought they were dead.  
The caterpillars crawled into their cocoons more than two weeks ago. I had since moved them from the church altar to the altar at my home. I even went out and bought them a bouquet of bright yellow flowers. But it didn't look good. I googled it and found that sometimes caterpillars don't survive. I was heartbroken.  

I had hoped these would be the ones. I had hoped that this focus on caterpillars, metamorphosis, chrysalis, and butterflies would help us all understand in a new way God's love for us all. I wanted Lent to be understood as a time set apart, within the cocoon. In this isolation, God was at work, transforming us into something new. We were going to become something we couldn't understand. Maybe something got into the cocoons to stop this miracle from happening. They were crusty and dried out. I wondered how to talk about what had happened if this hope had died. I grieved. And I waited.

And then! I walked into this holy space, and I saw that the cocoon had been opened. A magnificent butterfly was gaining footing. A butterfly was stretching its wings! It was so incredibly beautiful. I watched with amazement.

Have you ever assumed that God stopped working, so you gave up hope? Have you ever given up on something only to find that God wasn't done quite yet? This journey of faith is hard. There are times when we are in the valley - there are times when we are stuck in our cocoons. It might seem like nothing exciting is happening. We could grow impatient and frustrated. But imagine in those moments, God was doing some of God's most amazing work. Before you give up too quickly, trust that God will appear at a time that you least expect. And God will do something that you can hardly imagine. The wait will be worth it.

"For God is my witness, how I long for all of you with the compassion of Christ Jesus. And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you to determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God."

Peace,
Dean
PS: Tune in to our website at www.wesleypark.org and watch the rest of the butterflies emerge.

Daily Lectionary Readings for Year A

Ephesians 2:1-10

Rising to new life, forgiven by God's love, we seek out a life that reflects this grace. There are no actions that we can do to deserve this life we live now and in eternity. What could we do to earn such love? It is only by the grace of Christ that we inherit this life. So, how can we respond in light of this gift from God? We can now live in that love each day of our lives. Gratitude fills our days. We look for opportunities to lift the lives of those who are suffering. We seek out ways to express Christ's love through our words and actions.

"But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus."

Paul is describing that part of the metamorphosis where we are changed. We are transformed because we have been loved. And are loved, so we go and love.  

Last week the Schick family decided to do just that. Bill, Jennifer, Jessica, Tommy, Alison, and Joey Schick got in their car and went to bless people. They stood at a safe distance and held up a sign that said, "We Miss You." They did not have to do this. They did not do it to earn God's love. They chose to do this because Christ loves them, and now they are doing what they can to love others. Share the ways you are changed because God loves you.  

"We are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life."

Peace,
Dean

​Daily Lectionary Readings for Year A

As we near Easter, the Lectionary texts focus even more on life that comes from death. The readings are pointing us toward the cross and the resurrection of Jesus Christ. We are preparing to journey with Jesus to death, into the tomb, and onto eternal life.

Psalm 143
A Prayer of Deliverance
What must it feel like to be pursued by someone or something that intends to bring harm? A foe, a virus... How long can you outrun the charge of one who seeks ill will?  

For the enemy has pursued me,
  crushing my life to the ground,
  making me sit in darkness like those long dead.

Psalm 143 is a prayer for deliverance from this feeling of death. Time is of the essence. Death seems imminent. Save me, O Lord.

1 Kings 17:17-24
Elijah Revives the Widow's Son
Elijah is a guest in a widow's home. Her child tragically dies. Death upon death. Grief upon grief. Elijah seeks to restore this life. After praying and through a series of actions, "the life of the child came into him again."  

Acts 20:7-12
Paul's Farewell Visit to Troas
On the evening before leaving this Greek community, Paul is teaching deep into the night in an upstairs room. One child, sitting near the window, falls asleep, falls from the window, and dies. Paul rushes to him, holds him in his arms, and assures the crowd that the child will live. Paul returns upstairs to eat and teach for the rest of the night until dawn. The child is found to be alive and well in the morning.

We will be getting into the theology of life from death in the coming weeks. But what of the physical ability to care for the dying?  What does it take to restore life to those who are gravely ill? The world prays for the entire medical community in these hours. They are risking their lives to save the lives of others. Medical professionals do this not only because of their training but most notably because of their calling. They have taken an oath to care for others.

The Hippocratic Oath is one of the oldest oaths dating back some 2,500 years. Pray for those who take this oath as their guide each day. There are heroes among us, often able to bring life from death.

The Modern Hippocratic Oath
I swear to fulfill, to the best of my ability and judgment, this covenant:

• I will respect the hard-won scientific gains of those physicians in whose steps I walk, and gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow.
• I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures which are required, avoiding those twin traps of overtreatment and therapeutic nihilism.
• I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug.
• I will not be ashamed to say "I know not," nor will I fail to call in my colleagues when the skills of another are needed for a patient's recovery.
• I will respect the privacy of my patients, for their problems are not disclosed to me that the world may know. Most especially must I tread with care in matters of life and death. If it is given me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty. Above all, I must not play at God.
• I will remember that I do not treat a fever chart, a cancerous growth, but a sick human being, whose illness may affect the person's family and economic stability. My responsibility includes these related problems, if I am to care adequately for the sick.
• I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure.
• I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm.
• If I do not violate this oath, may I enjoy life and art, respected while I live and remembered with affection thereafter. May I always act so as to preserve the finest traditions of my calling and may I long experience the joy of healing those who seek my help.

I invite you to post below and share the name or a picture of someone who has cared for people who are sick.  Give God thanks for medical professionals and all that they do.

Peace,
Dean

​Daily Lectionary Readings for Year A

There is a room in my house. I call it the nook. Sometimes I call it the cranny. It's a small room with a large window that looks out over the garden. The view through the window gets more expressive, the longer you look. Five minutes turn to ten before there is a slight flicker of movement. It's the twitch of an ear, and suddenly you notice a rabbit that has been listening to the world the whole time.  

Last week Will and I saw a skunk. It was as big as a dog and making its way over to the Tanis house. We ran upstairs and watched it through the window waddle and hunt for grubs. It hadn't a care in the world. Sometimes when you know that God has given you certain defenses, you can worry less. I used my best ASL and tried to sign to Will everything I knew about skunks. Will looked at me, went into the bathroom, and put on more deodorant.  

My day begins in the nook (or the cranny). I watch the sunrise. The sky slowly turns all kinds of beautiful colors. The branches of the trees scrape the clouds. The birds are busy.
​
I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
  and in his word I hope;
my soul waits for the Lord
  more than those who watch for the morning,
  more than those who watch for the morning.

The garden seems barren. I planted raspberries and blackberries and strawberries last spring. The vines lay dormant. The leaves are dead. I wonder if they failed to survive the winter. I wouldn't even know how to revive them if I could. I sit and look out the window at a garden that seems hopelessly bare. And then, prophesies such as Ezekiel come to mind. Visions of flowers are springing forth, and branches are coming into blossom. The dormant soil is tilled and sown. God brings life back again. In due time. The vines will produce fruit for my neighbors and me and the rabbits. Looking out the window to the garden, I can envision it alive again. Tomatoes the size of your fist. Flowers tended by bees and butterflies. Strawberries sweet. God hasn't stopped working.

This nook, or cranny, has been transformed into a sanctuary. In our time apart, we are broadcasting worship online. We are in our separate places coordinating videos among the musicians and worship leaders. The prayer is that it will all become worshipful. There are challenges too numerous to name, but it is meaningful. Each week I try to do something special for you to discover. I will give you a hint: March 22, I wore a different color Wesley Park shirt for each video segment. I wonder if you can guess my little gifts to you in the weeks ahead?  

This room with the big window that looks out onto the garden has some additional pieces. Now there is a camera on a tripod hooked up to a microphone on a stand. There is a small table with a second camera. There are shop lights to flood the room if it's too cloudy out to light naturally. There is an altar with the Christ candles and the cross from the church. There is a candle from Thistle Farms that shines as a prayer of hope for women who are seeking shelter from a dangerous world. There are blankets to wrap up into. There are computer monitors to read from. There are power cords and audio cables.

More importantly, in this little room where we gather to worship, there is joy. Jesus opens up our minds to understand the scriptures. He invites us to repent. He offers us forgiveness. He reminds us that we are witnesses of his love and grace in the world. He gives us work to do in his name and on his behalf. He stretches out his hands and blesses us, our neighborhood, all people, and the whole world. This little room and all the rooms like it are where we give God our thanks. These small sanctuaries become places of profound praise, great joy, and authentic worship. Let us gather together in worship in the morning with joy and thanksgiving.

Peace,
Dean

Daily Lectionary Readings for Year A

(I apologize for any delay in getting this reflection out. Worship preparation is fun but complicated. I hope you will be able to tune in Sunday at 10 am. The taped service, with beautiful music and special helpers will broadcast live so that you can chat with one another as you worship.)

I wish that we did not have this coronavirus threat and our time of social isolation. But, if we are going to have it I am glad that it is happening in the season of Lent. These days call us to reflect upon our mortality, to confess our sins, to be forgiven, and to journey with Christ in the wilderness. 

The scripture readings for today talk about our iniquities and our sins.  They also paint a picture of God's redemption of the world with the formation of the kingdom of heaven. Suffering is no longer theoretical. People are suffering from the coronavirus. Perhaps we pay the closest attention when it is a relation or a celebrity. When Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson announced they had the coronavirus, it was shocking. It brought it close and made it real. Then, NBA players were getting sick. This week, Prince Charles found out he has the coronavirus as well as many members of congress, police officers, firefighters, doctors, nurses, caregivers, etc..  

Three days ago, Jackson Browne announced that he, too, has the coronavirus. Jackson Browne was one of my brother's favorite artists. Because I adore my brother, he became one of my favorite artists, too. He wrote his song "These Days" when he was 16 years old. I imagine Matthew Prado walking around town carrying his guitar on his back, strumming along to the thoughts in his head. I picture Matt letting notes form and change and grow into something that has never existed before. It's incredible to me. This line Jackson Browne wrote when he was just a kid always hit so close to my heart. "Don't confront me with my failures; I had not forgotten them."  

I think I tend to categorize sin as my failures. But maybe there is so much more to ponder.  Lent is our season to consider how we live and what we do and how we grow. These days, maybe we can receive the forgiveness that Christ can offer and then walk by his side. Maybe throw a guitar over our shoulder. Maybe dream, and play, and know that we are loved.

Here we are, where we need to be these days.  We are in the midst of Lent. Allow God to set you free and be loved.

Peace,
Dean