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

Exodus 12:1-14

This is a challenging passage for me. This is the God of the Old Testament, the first covenant, although it alludes to the New Covenant with the sacrifice of the blameless lamb so its blood can mark God’s own people. All those firstborn children are collateral damage in God’s conflict with Pharaoh, whose heart, earlier chapters tell us, God Himself is hardening.

How can I square this with the God who tells me that love is the first commandment? What does this contrast between the Old and the New mean to the faith I was raised in, which includes the immutability of God from generation to generation?

I have to accept that faith includes mysteries and look for an understanding of what this passage teaches about that pursuit of faith. First is the importance of mindfulness, of devoting time and attention entirely to remembering and listening for God. Second is the call to give my best to God, giving that is a communal action, not something I do on my own. And third, faith must be active: I don’t always know what it might mean, but I’m called to keep my sandals on, my cloak tucked, and my staff in my hand.

                                                                                 —Lois Maassen

Psalm 119:1-8

Blessed are those whose ways are blameless,
who walk according to the law of the LORD.
Blessed are those who keep his statutes
and seek him with all their heart—
they do no wrong
but follow his ways.
You have laid down precepts
that are to be fully obeyed.
Oh, that my ways were steadfast
in obeying your decrees!
Then I would not be put to shame
when I consider all your commands.
I will praise you with an upright heart
as I learn your righteous laws.
I will obey your decrees;
do not utterly forsake me.

This psalm is an acrostic poem, the stanzas of which begin with successive letters of the Hebrew alphabet; moreover, the verses of each stanza begin with the same letter of the Hebrew alphabet.

—Kari Miller Fenwood

Ephesians 2:8-10

Heart image; San Paolo, Brazil -- Amanda Vivan

Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22

--Rachelle Oppenhuizen

O give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever.

Let the redeemed of the LORD say so, those he redeemed from trouble and gathered in from the lands, from the east and from the west, from the north and from the south.

Earlier in this collection of reflections, in week one of Lent, I reflected on Psalm 51 with the story of a personal experience of brokenness and eventual healing. I’m inclined to continue the telling of that story a bit further, as the Psalmist seems to be doing also here in Psalm 107, from a place of restoration which nonetheless reflects on and acknowledges the difficulty of a previous time. The story doesn’t end at the “bottom” for the Psalmist, nor for the “redeemed of the LORD.” As one of the ones God redeemed from trouble, I’m prepared to say so.

I wish to extend my telling of the mystery of mercy with the sharing of this mandala which arrived in a dream some five years beyond the Psalm 51 experience in my life. In the dream, I’m watching four circles move around within a dark, square field. The circles migrate to the four corners and lines appear and radiate out from each circle to traverse the space toward the median of the opposite sides, intersecting at the center to form a layered star. A voice announces that a wedding is underway.

No kidding. A wedding is a symbol of union—a reconciliation of the tension of the opposites. Most dreams present a situation in which there’s a dynamic tension. Most marriages do, too.

As I reflected on the words of this Psalm, I recalled the suggestion presented by this image of a compass from which the four directions move toward the center to overlap one another and create a star. From the polarities, a new point of meaning (indeed, a means of navigation) is established by the coming together of the opposites—”from the east and from the west, from the north and from the south.” (Please consider, as well, the way that the reconciliation of these four directions is also descriptive of the work that is accomplished at the center of a cross—not to overstate the obvious, but this is a Lenten reflection.) To quote an ancient axiom, “As above, so below; as below, so above.” One might add, “as within, so without; as without, so within.”

The reconciliation of the opposites that the world longs for exists already in the hearts of those who have come to know the steadfast love of the LORD which endures forever. Christ prays in us for that Union, and guides us like a star toward the center.

Let them thank the LORD for his steadfast love, for his wonderful works to humankind.  And let them offer thanksgiving sacrifices, and tell of his deeds with songs of joy.

                                                                                 —Rachelle Oppenhuizen

Psalm 51:10-17

In my imperfection, I cannot but sin.

In my will, I cannot but be weak.

In my actions, I cannot but be selfish.

Is my legacy to be forgotten by my God?

Say it is not so.

Even though,

My sins cut the cord of Grace, raw.

Repeatedly, like the sting of sleet on the face.

Pray, do not allow me to walk away

From the fire within,

The warmth of Your Love,

To some snowy-frozen-scape of a Godless land,

The life-less creation of a thoughtless man.

Recall me to your Presence,

Wash me with the Holy Spirit,

Light a path that my heart may follow, and

I will look for fellow travelers

And speak of the promise of Grace found waiting…

Patient, beyond human understanding,

… to apply the balm of love to a contrite heart.

                                                                        —Bob Jerow

Psalm 19:7-14

The Law of the Lord

We are all familiar with “Natural Law” (think gravity, e.g.) and “Criminal Law” (think speed limits, e.g.). Disregarding either can damage our wellbeing. But what is this “Law of the Lord” which the Psalmist lauds?

It is Law that comes not from nature or government but from God. We see it codified in the Ten Commandments revealed to Moses and summarized by Jesus (Matt. 22: 37-40) in the “Greatest” and “Second” Commandments to love God and neighbor.

As we imperil ourselves by violating natural or criminal law, so we risk damaging our lives by failing to obey the Law of God, the revealed reliable roadmap to human health and wholeness. Gifted with the Law and assured of its truth and its many benefits (7-9: renewal of spirit; wisdom; joy; enlightenment), we may well follow the Psalmist’s honest self-examination (11-13) with our own, asking in these Lenten days how far we have missed the mark of sacrificial love and seeking the grace to improve our aim.

                                                                                                                  —Francis Fike

Exodus 20:1-17

Today’s reading takes us to Sinai, where we stand with our spiritual forebears to hear a word from the Lord. Having led Israel out of slavery in Egypt, God gives them a vision of community through Ten Commandments that will shape their life and identity.

In a similar way, the season of Lent beckons us to embark on an exodus of our own. Like Israel, we must leave Egypt to encounter God’s words anew. Here, in the Lenten wilderness, we dust off the tablets, sift through the layers of meaning, and ask ourselves difficult questions about how we too might be shaped by God’s commandments.

What we find is a God who is passionate about relationship—the one God seeks with us and the one hoped for among God’s children. The two are interrelated. Like a spiritual Möbius Strip, our inner life affects who we are on the outside. Loving God with our whole being naturally overflows to love for neighbor. As a result, our lives are directed towards meeting the needs of our fellow human beings.

But what does that mean amid the complexities of contemporary life? Is it simply about following a list of rules that restrain us from doing harm—the “Thou shalt not”? Or, is it also about seeking God’s justice to safeguard the dignity and well-being of our neighbors, whether they reside next door, across the border, or a world away?

—Beverly Zell

Mark 1:12-15

Temptation of Christ on the Mount -- Kari Miller Fenwood, Hope Church 2011, after Duccio, di Buoninsegna 1319

John is in prison! What next for the young, unknown Jesus?

To the desert! Forty days meandering, pondering—lashed by power temptations, seized by visions of the God-life, while the animals howl.

It came to him: tromp across Galilee; show the people what the “good news” of the Kingdom of God looks like—that it is right here!—not elsewhere or obscure; a realm where God is recognized at the center of life! Jesus then began living out his shortened life illustrating what the Realm of God is—and is not!

It is within—between—among! It is being—becoming—belonging! It is life emanating from love, giving and caring, seeking wisdom and truth, implementing justice and peace, initiating healthfulness and wholeness, reverencing life and creation, offering grace and acceptance, respecting others and wanting good for them!

Can we make Lent our meandered desert to recognize afresh what the Realm of God looks like?

—Earl Laman

Mark 1:9-11

Baptism of Christ -- Cappella Palatina de Palermo

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit

On that day,
in the River Jordan
your child was lifted up
and you poured down on him your
Love and Spirit and called him
Son
        and
baptized him

So that we might, your children,
your bent world,
be lifted up.

As you poured out your Son, so you
poured out on us your love
        to seal us
as your own.

                                                                                          —Arda Rooks