It's not just about giving up something

"Fasting confirms our utter dependence upon God by finding in Him a source of sustenance beyond food." Dallas Willard, The Spirit of the Disciplines

Many of the spiritual disciplines I practice today, I learned as a child. For example, every year during the 40 days before Easter, my family and I fasted. But as kids, we didn't call it fasting, we called it giving up something for Lent. And while we may have given up simple pleasures like candy or gum, it still afforded us the opportunity to identify with Jesus and his time in the wilderness.

Wendy Lynn Mitchell, St. Peter's Episcopal Church, Confirmation 1975

However, long before Jesus entered the desert, the Lord has been teaching his people about fasting. The people of Isaiah’s day also fasted and anticipated God’s appropriate response to their self-denial. Yet, the Lord seemed ambivalent and inattentive to their actions: “Why have we fasted and you have not seen it? Why have we humbled ourselves and you have not noticed?” Isaiah 58.3a

Contrary to their belief, though, God had noticed their displays, he just wasn't impressed by them: “On the day of your fasting, you do as you please and exploit all your workers ... your fasting ends in quarreling and strife ... is this what you call a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord?” Isaiah 58.3b-4 

Fortunately, the Lord set his people straight about what he expected: “Is not this the kind of fast I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter -- when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?” Isaiah 58.6-7

When we humble ourselves in a fast dedicated to the Lord, we not only recognize our utter dependence on God, it also enables us to empathize with those who are suffering. As we do so, our softened hearts will desire justice for the mistreated and prompt us to act on their behalf. This idea however, is not unique to the Old Testament but manifests itself in the life and ministry of Jesus.

After his 40 day fast, Jesus left the wilderness, entered the synagogue and declared, “The Spirit of the LORD is upon me, for he has anointed me to bring Good News to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim that captives will be released, that the blind will see, that the oppressed will be set free, and that the time of the LORD's favor has come.” Luke 4.18.19

The older I get, the more I realize, fasting is a more profound and complex practice than I ever imagined. Fasting opens my eyes to see God and the people around me from his perspective. It allows me to identify with the suffering of Jesus and with the marginalized. Fasting revitalizes my faith and inspires me to connect it to my works. 

Lynne Hybels presents a challenge to us once offered to her: "Years ago a friend said that if I read Isaiah 58 for 30 days in a row, it would turn my life upside-down. I did. She was right. Try it."

In the next 40 days, let's be mindful that a true fast isn't just about giving up, it's about giving out. As a daily reading of Isaiah 58 will remind us.

Originally posted here on 2.17.2015

I know what I'm longing for, so I'll wait.

I made matzo the other day. I want to share Communion weekly with Stuart during Lent, so I made matzo last week in preparation. In my definitively un-kosher kitchen, with my thoroughly gentile hands I mixed together some flour, salt, olive oil and water in a glass bowl. I rolled it out paper-thin on my Mexican-made table. I pierced it properly with a fork. I baked it till it bubbled and browned on my handy pizza stone.

I made matzo last week, because I wanted to bring something of myself to the Lord's table this week. An offering created from my own time and effort. I enjoyed the experience. 

I'll buy the grape juice.

I wrote an order of service for our shared meal. Now, I'm all ready to wait. All ready to wait in the season of Lent as we pray and fast. Ready to contemplate the big themes of life and death. Sin and redemption. Sacrifice and obedience.

Growing up near the coast of southern Connecticut, our family spent countless days on the beach. I've walked miles upon miles on sandy coves and rocky piers, gathered a hundred pailfuls of pebbles and sea shells, jumped through a thousand plus waves crashing to the shore. Give me a blanket and a coastline and I could wait for hours contemplating life and love within earshot of the ebb and flow of the tide.

To smell the salt air, to hear the crashing of the waves, to feel the spray of the sea on my face brings a sense of belonging no other place on earth provides for me. I can wait on the beach. I can relax. I can breathe. It's there I long to remain. To wait for one more wave to crash in. 

Just one more.

Ebb and flow. The beach reminds me of the importance of rhythm in our lives. Its consistency, its constancy stabilizes me. The tide comes in. We wait. The tide goes out. We wait. We know what we long for, so we wait. 

For those of us who allow the liturgical calendar to dictate our seasonal rhythms, we notice that the Church Universal spends much of its time waiting in pregnant expectation. In Advent, we wait with hope for our Savior's birth. In Lent, we wait with ashes for our Lord's resurrection. In the days before Pentecost, we wait together for the promised Holy Spirit. We know what we long for, so we wait.

When ordinary time finally arrives, when the consistent ebb and flow of waiting and celebrating, waiting and celebrating, waiting and celebrating finally ends we may think: alas, the waiting is over. Except, it isn't. In reality, even in what we call ordinary time, it doesn't take long to remember that the Church remains in a persistent state of waiting for the blessed hope. 

Still pregnant. Still waiting. Still hoping.

The tide is still out on the final great expectation. But, in eager expectation, I'll grab my blanket, head for the coast and I'll keep a weather eye on the horizon. 

I know what I'm longing for, so I'll wait.

Another brief survey on short-term missions trips

In a previous survey, I asked for the reasons we give to others to encourage participation on a short-term missions trip. In this survey, I want to know the reasons we should NOT give to encourage people to go on a short-term missions trip. 

Thanks for your help!

Create your own user feedback survey

Christ, be our light!

Today is Candlemas, or Candelaria as it is known here in Mexico, the day Christians commemorate the presentation of Jesus at the temple (Luke 2:22-40). 

The Presentation at the Temple, Giovanni Bellini, c1459

Because it is a feast day, and in accordance with local tradition, we'll nosh on delicious tamales and atole later. But in the mean time, enjoy this beautiful hymn designated especially for today.

Longing for light, we wait in darkness.

Longing for truth, we turn to you.

Make us your own, your holy people,

light for the world to see.

Christ, be our light! Shine in our hearts.

Shine through the darkness.

Christ, be our light!

Shine in your church gathered today.

Longing for peace, our world is troubled.

Longing for hope, many despair.

Your word alone has pow'r to save us.

Make us your living voice.

Christ, be our light! Shine in our hearts.

Shine through the darkness.

Christ, be our light!

Shine in your church gathered today.

Longing for food, many are hungry.

Longing for water, many still thirst.

Make us your bread, broken for others,

shared until all are fed.

Christ, be our light! Shine in our hearts.

Shine through the darkness.

Christ, be our light!

Shine in your church gathered today. 

That one word

One word. I just had to think of one word. 

As it does every year, January first came and went, and I successfully neglected to choose that one word to focus on in the new year. In theory, I really like the idea of choosing one word. I appreciate the precision and the conciseness of the endeavor, but finding that one, perfect, all encompassing, wondrous word always eluded me. Granted, seeking perfection instead of inspiration probably distracted me a bit.

Yet, a moment presented itself a couple of weeks ago, forcing me from my self-imposed neglect to successfully choose that one word.

Some of Mexico City's finest ministers and leaders breakfasted together on a recent Wednesday morning when my friend and missionary colleague, Sandy Kazim, challenged us to choose that one word to focus on in the new year. Choose your word, she said. Write it down. Share it with a table mate. Alas, there would be no getting out of this one.

Think, Wendy, think.

How about faith? Faith is a good word. Familiar and prosaic maybe, but a solid choice. Or what about hope? Hope is a good, too. Poetic and strong; it sounds especially lyrical in Spanish – esperanza. Sort of just rolls off your tongue …

Focus, Wendy, focus.

As I listened to a room full of women serving fearlessly under some of the most trying circumstances in Mexico City, I found myself coveting their relentless spirit. Overwhelmed with news from my own country in a tempest tossed year of post-truth, alternative facts, and bald-faced lies I realized in that moment exactly what I needed. Courage.

I found my one word.

Yes, courage. Courage to face down the lies. Courage to fight for the truth. Courage to live faithfully. Courage to pray fearlessly. Courage to preach prophetically. I choose courage. Courage is a choice after all, is it not?

A long time ago, and many times since, the people of God had a choice between fear and courage. As per Moses' instructions, twelve leaders of Israel explored the land of Canaan. After forty days, they returned with a cluster of grapes and an honest, objective account of all they witnessed. Seizing the moment, Caleb encouraged Moses to take possession of the land. We should go, he said. We can certainly do it.

But the men who went with Caleb said, No we can't. And they began to spread a bad report among the Israelites.

Often when we refer to this story, we qualify the bad report as nothing more than unfortunate news we don't want to deal with. But such an anemic interpretation distracts us from the very essence and the severe consequences of the bad report referenced here.

To be clear, an honest accounting or an unfortunate diagnosis is not in and of itself a bad report. It may be bad news, for sure, but the truth cannot be ignored or dismissed just because it proves difficult. On the contrary, and more specifically, a bad report exaggerates the truth, embellishes the facts, and serves only to dissuade believers from acting courageously and living faithfully to God's commands.

I'll let you in on a little secret. When you're afraid, it's much easier to disobey God when you can convince everyone else in your sphere of influence to disobey as well. Just skew the truth. Offer a common enemy. Unite them in fear. It's an age-old tactic. But you knew that already, right? We've all seen it before.

With an impassioned appeal, Joshua and Caleb tried to inspire the people of God to move forward, but to no avail. Fear won out that day. And everybody lost.

God offered his people a good gift. A solid promise. But the faithless actions of determined, frightened men treated God's good gift as evil and it worked. Wholly and stubbornly united in fear, the people of God chose to remain outside of God's promise.

“If only we had died in Egypt!” they cried. “Or in this desert!” they lamented. In a twist of irony, they got what they wished for. The fearful men claimed the land would devour them if they chose to go, but in the end it was the wilderness that swallowed them up. All of them. Not one of the faithless, fearful men ever saw the land of promise or enjoyed its abundance. A future generation would claim what the previous generation feared.

Truth be told, courage does not shield us from heartache nor does it guarantee we won't suffer loss. But courage gives us something fear never will: A clear conscience before God. A chance to live with reckless abandon. A shot at the promise land.

Daily, I am overwhelmed with bad reports inciting me to fear refugees fleeing, despise women marching, distrust scientists researching, and criticize people of color protesting. Enough already. Choose what you will, but I choose truth. I choose life. I choose compassion.

I choose courage.

I am grateful for the Joshuas and Calebs of today. Faithful men who serve with humility, choose their words wisely, value the unblemished truth, and respect the image of God in all humanity. Thank God for the Esthers and Deborahs of our world! Courageous women who rise to the challenge, lead with integrity, and face down ungodly empires even when their very lives are on the line. I'm with them.

I choose courage. 

But we do not belong to those who shrink back and are destroyed, but to those who have faith and are saved. Hebrews 10:30