Hebrews 10:16-25

Such interesting things in this passage: quotes from the Old Testament prophets, images of temple and sacrifice and blood and water, themes of sin and forgiveness. But with all of that, I found myself most intrigued by the word “provoke” towards the end of the passage—that we as fellow believers are “…to provoke one another….”

Usually “provoke” has a negative slant to it. You provoke someone to violence by annoying, threatening, attacking. You get provoked to anger by someone who gets under your skin, irritates you. But here the idea is just the opposite: “…let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds….” And I’m just thinking that there must be something a bit different here about using “provoke” (rather than a more pleasant and expected word such as “encourage” or “inspire”).

So how about this for an idea. Perhaps sometimes something good that you do will irritate me because it makes me look at myself in an unsettling way. When I hear that you are volunteering at the Community Kitchen, it makes me wonder about how I spend my time. You have provoked me. When I tell you that I’ve contacted an elected official about immigration issues, you might go away wondering about connecting your faith and politics. I have provoked you. When a speaker from Haiti shares with us the dismal reality of poverty and disease entrenched there, she makes it clear that we have resources to be shared. We are provoked.

Sometimes such provoking may be subtle; sometimes more direct and challenging. But for me it points to not being shy about our service, and being open to how others may challenge us to serve in new ways. When the end is “love and good deeds,” then “provoke” can be a means of grace.

So, here’s to abundant provoking! And as the passage concludes, in the wonderful upside down world of faith in Christ, that is in fact a way of “encouraging one another” as we walk in faith together.

—Gordon Wiersma

Jeremiah 31:31-34

Early in his career as a war journalist (“The Babylonians are at the outskirts of Egypt, and the Lord’s really got it in for the Egyptians”), Jeremiah assures the Israelites that, as vengeful as God is about their sins, God will restore them as a nation after seventy years.

Then, in this passage, Jeremiah flashes God’s unexpected promise to make a new covenant, not just a system of laws but also a living relationship within each of God’s people, a promise to “forgive their iniquity and remember their sins no more.”

What a gift! God promises acceptance and forgiveness, no matter what: unconditional grace. God promises that even unendurable oppression and horrific violence will give way to redemption. In our time, when today’s oppressions rule and corrupt people’s lives, can we still hope that God will claim us, “from the least… to the greatest”? Can we really hope?

—Tom Arendshorst

Psalm 25:1-10

This Psalm has often been pointed to as an instruction manual on how to pray:

• praise: “to You, O Lord, I lift up my soul” (1)
• call for God’s action: “do not let those who wait for you be put to shame” (3)
• motive for our action: “lead me in your truth” (5)
• forgiveness: “do not remember the sins of my youth” (7)
• resolution and trust: “All the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness, for those who keep his covenant and his decrees.” (10)

But it is the tone of this Psalm that throws me a bit. David seems to be ordering God to teach him, lead him, and forgive him (3-5) — not asking for God’s love and strength. In verse 6 it is as if God needs a reminder to be merciful. Really?

I cannot help but feel that while David is calling out to God for direction and acknowledging his trust in God, he is doing so with the tone of a parent reminding a child of their daily chores.

Is there a difference between asking for forgiveness and telling God to forgive? Between requesting direction and ordering the understanding of God’s ways?

I believe tone matters because it puts the power back on God — but that it matters for us too. Could David’s prayer have as much to do with ordering ourselves as it did with requesting the assistance of the Lord? When he says, “Be mindful of your mercy” is he asking this of God or himself? If we are the hands and feet of Christ in this world, then should prayer be about directing ourselves to action as well as asking for God’s love in the process? It just comes down to: whom are we directing?

—Becky Schmidt