By Michelle Moyer, a junior at Goshen College Reprinted from Lenten Devotions Matthew 6:34 My brother, who is three years older than me, got married last month on the beach. As I was sitting in my chair at the head table, I started looking at each person and I realized how our lives are all constantly changing. Time does not stop. We are not stagnant human beings. We all become older – our relationships change with our family and friends. We may view ourselves differently, but there always seems to be part of that same young child or teenager within each person.
It becomes so easy to think about the changes with negativity, sadness and fear. However, I have to stop myself. Tomorrow, and the change it brings, is a day not to worry about. The past has shaped each one of us to be the beautiful beings we are. Instead of worry, sadness and fear, I begin to have joy for too many things to even list, but mostly the fact that my feet are able to dig into warm sand and I can be surrounded by my dearest family members watching my brother get married to a wonderful woman. I have hope that in the future, which will have its challenges, I will be okay with God by my side. God will be standing there. The fear and worry subsides with the knowledge that things may be different tomorrow, but different is not a bad thing. I challenge you to enjoy today for today and not worry about tomorrow.
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By Irene Schmid, a sophomore at Goshen College
Reprinted from Lenten Devotions Transfiguration is a daunting word. The process of being transfigured is difficult. But in Matthew 17, Jesus’ transfiguration was simple. It makes me wish that I could be transfigured into a holy being as easily as Jesus was. But read on in the passage, and you will see that a mysterious voice has one command for the disciples: “Listen to him!” God’s words to the three disciples were not complex teachings about life and faith. It is easy to get into life’s rhythm and forget about the simplicity of faith, of listening to both God and to nature. God tells us to “not be afraid.” Jesus did not answer all the disciples’ questions, but rather he calmed their fears. It is through listening to Jesus that the disciples were able to find peace, and we too can overcome our fears by grasping the simple, but often difficult, task of listening to God and allowing God to direct our paths. And just maybe, through listening and trusting in God, we too can be transfigured like Jesus. By Jo-Ann Brant, professor at Goshen College
Reprinted from Lenten Devotions My first thoughts about this passage are defensive because Paul’s phrase “the righteousness of faith” is often understood through Martin Luther’s writings to mean something given to us as a gift rather than something we earn by doing good works. I have not found Martin Luther’s dichotomy between two kinds of righteousness helpful because it rips Paul’s thought free of its foundations in the Old Testament teachings of the prophets, particularly Isaiah, from whom Paul takes his mandate to be the apostle to the nations through a ministry of reconciliation. Isaiah and the prophets insist that true worship and acts of righteousness go hand in hand. Luther reduced Abraham’s faith to one act of obedience rather than a life through which Abraham bore witness to the one true God by being the first to worship God alone. I think of the story told in the Jewish midrashic tradition, in which Abraham is left to tend his father’s idol shop. When his father returns, he finds the idols smashed to pieces. Abraham points to the one remaining idol with a club propped in its hands as the culprit. His father states bluntly that it is not possible for a lump of clay to do anything. By conceding to his father’s point, Abraham makes his first statement as a monotheist. Just as the prophets found that true worship of God could not be separated from righteousness, I see in this passage an affirmation that the beginnings of righteousness lie in Abraham’s worship of the one true living God, creator of heaven and earth. The act of justifying the ungodly is the act of bringing the nations into a worshipping relationship with God not through the redemptive act at Sinai, but when God extends forgiveness to the nations through Jesus’ death and resurrection. God’s righteousness lies in God’s faithfulness to his promise to Abraham, that he becomes a source of blessing for all nations. Paul understands Jesus’ gift of grace as the fulfillment of that promise because Jesus brings Jews and Gentiles into one worshipping body. Paul’s appeal to Abraham reminds me that we find God’s righteousness through worship of God, in which we recount the narratives of God’s mercy, repent of our failure to enact God’s mercy towards others, giving thanks for the forgiveness and blessings we receive and praising God for God’s goodness and the goodness of God’s creation. We go into the world inspired to honor God and Christ by enacting their righteousness through acts of mercy and offering the blessings we have received to others. There is no dichotomy between two kinds of righteousness. By Sam Carlson, a sophomore at Goshen College
Reprinted from Lenten Devotions At 9:30 a.m. on Feb. 20, I opened my eyes to find myself on the floor, with a bruised knee, eye, hand and elbow. Eight strangers with furrowed eyebrows stood above me, waiting for me to speak. What are you supposed to say after passing out in public? As if I knew these people for years, I mumbled: “Hey!” Do you know where you are? I did. Do you know the date? Oh no! I never know the date! With the hands of these strangers, I was pulled up from the ground. Under concussion precautions, I was transported to the emergency department of the hospital. Upon arrival, my heart started racing – at a rate of 216 beats per minute. Not only was I admitted for a potential concussion, but a suspiciously rapid pulse! I was poked, prodded, jabbed and stabbed with more hands. Tests, labs and scans returned with no complications. Unable to ease my heart rate, my old ticker was stopped completely and restarted. It worked! My heart rate settled. Though I was met with continuous misfortune throughout the day, there was always a hand. Whether it was a hand pushing a gurney down hospital corridors or umpteen hands lifting me from the ground, I always had a hand. It’s important to recognize that a higher being works in various ways. In this case, hands. Lots and lots of hands! By Becky Horst, associate registrar at Goshen College Reprinted from Lenten Devotions Today’s scripture marks the very beginning of Judaism, Islam and Christianity. Abram encounters God and is challenged to leave behind all that is familiar. God asks Abram to trust that he will be led to a new land. As a reward for his trust, he will receive a blessing. The literal meaning of the Hebrew word used here for “bless” is “to kneel down.” Its extended meaning is “to give something of value to another.” Some Christians equate blessings with wealth. A “prosperity gospel” website announces, “God’s desire is for His children to be rich… not just in spiritual blessings but in material blessings as well.” Abram does become a rich man, but God’s promise to him does not focus on material wealth. God wants Abram to be a blessing to “all the families of the world.” The goal of faith is not a comfortable family dynasty. The goal of faith is for God’s blessings to flow through the trusting ones out into the world. What might those blessings be? Money and material goods? Yes. Healing, hope and hospitality? Of course. But the most precious blessing anyone can receive or give is always love—the kind of love that kneels down before another and offers something of value with open hands. Bryan Moyer Suderman, founder of Small Tall Music, writes catchy tunes with important messages. His lyrics to “The Blessing Song” echo the promise of God to Abram in Genesis 12: I will bless you, I will bless you, I will bless you so that you will be a blessing too. Go to the land that I will show you. I will bless you. Through your family, I will bless all the families of the earth. It’s not for you to keep for yourselves. It’s not because you’re better than someone else. It’s not because I love you more than any others. I want your help to share my love with everyone. I will bless you, I will bless you, I will bless you so that you will be a blessing too. Genesis 12:1-4a (NRSV) By Quinn Brenneke, a senior at Goshen College
Reprinted from Lenten Devotions I always slept with the closet light on. What my parents told me about saving electricity didn’t matter. For one, I didn’t pay the bills. But more importantly, I was sorely afraid of the dark and couldn’t fall asleep without a nightlight. Eventually, the nightlight became more annoying than comforting. Now, in the light, sleep doesn’t come easily – it’s in the shade of night that I can finally rest. This week’s devotional theme is, “The LORD is your shade.” Jesus said the church is “the light of the world” (Matt. 5:14) and King David called God’s word “a light to my path” (Ps. 119). However, this week’s theme explores an opposite idea: God meets us in the shade. Lent is an opportunity to dwell in the shade of God, before celebrating under the light of Jesus’ resurrection on Easter. During this shaded time, it’s tempting to flip on a nightlight. But in the shade, we also encounter God. The shade is where God meets us in our suffering. It’s where God feels the pain of racism, violence and oppression – with us. It’s a place where loneliness is outmatched by God’s presence. It’s where Jesus entered our broken world, held our hands and declared that the chains of sin don’t imprison us anymore. In a shaded place, Jesus looked at us and said, “In me, you may have peace. In the world you face persecution. But take courage; I have conquered the world!” (John 16:33) During Lent, we join with God and with each other, asking, “What have we witnessed?” And we see clearly without a nightlight that God has been with us, even in the shade. By Kathryn Schmidt, assistant professor of music, Goshen College Reprinted from Lenten Devotions Jesus knows hunger. Deep, gnawing hunger – the kind that would send most of us speeding through the nearest drive-thru, rummaging through the fridge with shaky hands, sifting through the compost, even. Drastic, painful hunger. My comfortable lifestyle (and lack of discipline, to be honest) does not grant me a familiarity with this kind of hunger. But there’s another type of hunger I know very well. A hunger for love, vocational fulfillment, the safety of my family, financial security. First world hunger, the kind that goes with privilege. It’s a hunger of deficit – the space between what is, and what we want. The crucial difference between Jesus’ behavior in this passage and my own approach to hunger is this: Jesus allows his hunger to propel him INTO God, whereas mine frequently drives me away from God. Jesus’ loneliness and pain in this passage only serves to strengthen his resolve. Rather than becoming weak, fearful and lacking in conviction, the opposite is true. In his pain, Jesus becomes strong. In his hunger, Jesus’ connection to his Creator, his True Parent, solidifies. My tendency during periods of hunger? Much fist-shaking, questioning, wondering “God, my God, where are you?” Desiring my freezer to be filled with God’s manna, in labeled Tupperware containers. Begging for more signs, more answers, more promises. “God, I want more!” The response? “I know, my child.” “God, I want security, a future, a hope!” “I know, my child.” “God, I’m hungry!” “I know, my child.” May we, this Lenten season, allow our own hungers to strengthen our resolve. May we choose deeper unity with the One who knows our pain and welcomes us with open arms. Matthew 4:1-11 (NRSV) By Jim Brenneman, president of Goshen College Reprinted from Lenten Devotions Psalm 32, the Lenten reading for this week, can best be summarized by the oft-heard maxim: “Confession is good for the soul.” The Psalmist describes the deep feelings of guilt and shame that all of us have felt one time or another for things we have done wrong. The Psalmist is tortured, cannot eat and cannot sleep. He’s a time bomb ready to blow. But then, he “confesses his transgressions before the Lord” and receives God’s gracious pardon. A huge relief pours over him. He captures his joy in the opening couplet, twice saying how happy he is that his slate has been wiped clean, his sins are forgiven. Oh, what a relief it is to… Let. It. All. Out! Whew! Psychologists tell us and studies show that the great relief we get from the act of confession can be so exhilarating that it can lead in some cases to false confessions that are later proved wrong by DNA and other irrefutable evidence. The confession-relief cycle is real. Mahatma Gandhi tells a childhood story of how he lied and stole from his family in order to buy meat (a big taboo in his vegetarian household) and cigarettes for himself and a friend. Like the Psalmist, he lived in anguish. He couldn’t eat or sleep. He too felt like a time bomb ready to blow, until one day he wrote out a confession to his Papa. His father never said a word, but with tears streaming down his face, tore up the note as an act of gracious forgiveness toward young Gandhi. Gandhi was so relieved, he made confession part of his daily prayer and political calling. He later said, “confession of errors is like a broom which sweeps away the dirt and leaves the surface brighter and clearer. I [always] feel stronger for confession.” If Lent is about anything, it is a season of confession. It is that time of year in the liturgical calendar when we kneel before the God of steadfast love, the God who forgives our every wrong, to… Let. It. All. Out! And happy are those who do so! Psalm 32 (NRSV) By Bob Yoder, campus minister at Goshen College
Reprinted from Lenten Devotions DEVOTIONAL: Lent is a season of renewal through reflection on the life of Jesus, including his suffering and sacrifice. Today we know that in encountering the story of Jesus, the resurrection has already happened. The season of Lent ends in celebration of that reality as we move into the Easter season. The biblical stories we will encounter display God seeking after flawed people and people meeting Jesus for the first time. “Encountering God.” Is this something we do, or an adjective describing an attribute of God? Perhaps both. As you read the biblical texts, ask yourself: What are ways each of the characters looked for Jesus? What are the ways Jesus encountered them? “What have we witnessed?” also has a double meaning of what we have seen (been witnesses of) and what we have told others about (witnessed to). Pay attention to what is happening in and around the characters, as we do the same in our own lives so that we may share with others our encounters with God. I can recall several profound moments in my life where I encountered God’s grace – two times involved my daughter, Mira Susannah, named after her two grandmothers, “Miriam” and “Susan.” In the first instance, when she was nearly three, I am convinced God spoke directly through her to me as God prepared me to open my eyes to God’s power when I was in the Pit. The second instance was a year later when God again spoke through Mira while we were on a bike ride. This time the message I received was, “Bob do you still have no faith even after what I did this past year?” The Hebrew meaning of “Mira” is “bitter,” but the Latin meaning, “wonderful, marvelous,” better describes her personality. “Susannah” means “graceful lily.” I have encountered God’s wonderful and marvelous grace through my daughter, and I praise God for her and her ability to witness to me at such a young age. PRAYER: Encountering God, you who seek after us in unexpected ways, help us be attentive to your movement and give us the courage to witness to your marvelous graces. |
Chad Hill
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April 2015
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