Full of the Spirit

Luke 4:1

The Temptation of Jesus

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness.

Jesus entered the wilderness buoyed up by the affirmation, in baptism, that he was God's beloved son. That was enough to sustain him through trials and fasting.

However we practice baptism, be it in infancy, relying on the grace of God and guardians of the promise or in adulthood, as a public proclamation of faith, we often quickly lose sight of the import of baptism at whatever age - the import of God calling us beloved children, enabling and empowering us to do all things. Blessed to be a blessing.

Baptism is not only our affirmation but our elevation. In Baptism we are called out to serve. No one can refute that calling.

And, however long it might take us to embrace the gift, the blessing and the call, all three elements are present in that simple yet profound act.

It was enough to sustain Jesus for 40 days in the wilderness.

Enough to sustain him through an itinerant ministry.

Enough to sustain him through death and resurrection.

In these days of Lent, in whatever wilderness we may find ourselves, may we recall the affirmation and the ordination we received in baptism and may we respond as beloved children of God, called and equipped to serve and sustained in all things by one whose grace is sufficient.

If you loved me...

John 14:28

You heard me say to you, ‘I am going away, and I am coming to you.’ If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I.

If you loved me...

You would rejoice

If you loved me...

You would know

If you loved me...

You would understand 

If you loved me...

You would rejoice

God even with our hindsight

Even when we know the rest of the story

Even when, daily, you surround us

with your love and beauty,

Still we do not get it.

We fail to make the connections

We are slow to join the dots

And so we miss the joy

of loving and being loved

by the one whose name is love.

This day, O God,

Open our heart and mind and soul

to notice the presence

of your Holy Spirit

with which you confront us

in mystery and love.

Calm assurance

Matthew 6:30-31

But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’

Colour and resilience

emerging from the frozen ground

signalling much more

than a change of season

promising much more

than beauty and life:

A symbol of faithfulness -

the faithfulness of God

who is present

in every season

alongside all who seek

accompaniment through life

through every time and season

promising and delivering

fullness of life.

Listen carefully

1 Samuel 3:19-21

As Samuel grew up, the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground. And all Israel from Dan to Beer-sheba knew that Samuel was a trustworthy prophet of the Lord. The Lord continued to appear at Shiloh, for the Lord revealed himself to Samuel at Shiloh by the word of the Lord.

Hushed was the evening hymn,
The temple courts were dark,
The lamp was burning dim,
Before the sacred ark:
When suddenly a voice divine
Rang through the silence of the shrine.

Growing up in the church, this was one of my favourite hymns - and the call of Samuel was one of my favourite Bible stories.

The hymn goes on as a prayer for all of the attributes that Samuel had that allowed him to be an effective servant of God.

Looking again at the story, I am reminded that in Samuel's "elevation", there was also a message of judgement - the priest Eli, under whose instruction Samuel was nurtured in faith was censured for not acting to quash his sons' sins of blasphemy.

1 Samuel 3:13

For I have told him that I am about to punish his house forever, for the iniquity that he knew, because his sons were blaspheming God, and he did not restrain them.

With adult eyes, I see a story much harsher than the carefully edited version with which I grew up, a story with many layers. 

In this season of Lent, may there be space and clarity that allows the layers to be uncovered, getting to the heart of God who calls, who empowers, who judges and equips, a God who demands much, who gives much and who rebukes and corrects. A God who calls real people to serve in a real world.

During this season, may there be space to listen carefully to the voice of God for our lives today and the wisdom to act on and to share the whole message.

Baptism, Eucharist, Death

Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return... (Genesis 3:19)

Ash Wednesday

The first day of the season of Lent

When, by a simple smudge of ashes

the whole gospel is proclaimed:

You are loved,

You are deeply loved

by the God who loved you before you were born

whose love accompanies you through all of life

and whose arms will be there to welcome you in death.

Affirming in baptism: You are my beloved child

Reaching out through the Eucharist: Remember me

Proclaiming in death: Love never ends

In all your sojourns in the wilderness of life

may you hear those whispers 

of the God who created you

of the God who redeems you

And of the God who waits to welcome you to eternal life.

Repent and believe in the gospel (Mark 1:15)

The Epiphany star today

Responding to a restlessness within

The Magi embarked on a journey

They followed their star,

a sign that called them out of the comfort

of familiar patterns

to seek fulfilment of their yearning.

They set out

with no guarantee of success,

not even sure what success might look like.

They set out to encounter the Unknown

but longed for.

Seen as strangers,interlopers, imposters,

greeted at times with deference,

but also with suspicion.

What turmoil did their journey incite

in those they left behind

and in those who greeted them

on the road?

What joy and destruction

did they leave in their wake?

And if, today, our restlessness 

should compel us to follow a star:

How will we know we are heading in the right direction?

Will there be markers along the way?

Or is it simply the compulsion of our faith

that spurs us on?

Who will accompany us on the journey?

What must we leave behind?

Will we be mindful of the passions 

of those we encounter on the path?

Of the longings we stir up in others?

And what gifts might we bring?

What, for us, would be as precious

or as insightful

as gold, frankincense and myrrh?

May your Epiphany star

guide and compel

and lead you to fulfilment.

May you discover your passion

and the resources within

to bring your unique gifts

and pay homage to the babe

long gone from the stable

but still drawing those who seek 

on an unpredictable adventure in faith.

May you see that star

poised over the shelter for the homeless

or pausing to illuminate

lives touched by grief,

the Epiphany Star

guiding those who worship the Christ child

to all those places

where the Incarnation

is needed today.

Elusive Joy

I took this picture of a light up Joy Christmas ornament, fully expecting that, during Advent, I would use it to illustrate a blog post. I was anticipating joy creeping in with the season and, if not banishing, then at least mitigating the sense of loss I was experiencing in moving from Parish ministry to a new vocation in the church. I was sure that I had grieved long enough, that time would do its work of healing and that preparing for Christmas would complete this painful part of the journey of transition.

That's not how things worked out. It seems that transition was not to be as well behaved or as precisely orchestrated as I had hoped. Joy did not come rushing in with the Incarnation. It did not even slip in quietly as Advent progressed. Of course there were glimpses: especially in the liturgy and the music of the season but those glimpses were fleeting and elusive.

I enjoyed the space, the lack of pressure, the less frenzied pace. I did not miss the expectations of others, and of myself, to choreograph a Christmas experience that would deliver the baby right into folks' hands just at the moment they were ready to receive him.

But still, my journey through Advent felt like wading through treacle. I was unable, even though I longed to do so, to run with the shepherds to the manger.

And so I look to Epiphany this year, not for resolution, not for any sense of completion or accomplishment, but for the acknowledgment that the journey of transition is a slow one, unpredictable in nature and encompasses surprising twists and turns.

The Magi responded to a restlessness that took them from the known and the familiar, even from those they loved to embark on a journey that wasn't mapped out, a journey they could not control or even plan. Amd, when they thought they'd arrived, there was yet another kink in the path: they managed to upset a tyrant and unleashed his wrath on innocents. But still they journeyed and were eventually able to offer their gifts to the one whom they sought, whose star they followed.

The Magi are my inspiration this season as the journey goes on...