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Archive for February, 2022

Beyond Measure

Photo by Morgane Perraud on Unsplash

1 Samuel 26:2,7-9,11-13,22-23
Psalm 103:1-4,8,10,12-13
1 Corinthians 15:45-49 
Luke 6:27-38

“For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you” (Luke 6: 38). I struggle with the previous statement, for one because if it’s true of God, it doesn’t seem possible that God gazes at me with love. Past experience tells me that I can forgive neither as completely nor as often as I hope God forgives me. A second reason I struggle with the sentence is that it seems to contradict the message of the psalm for the day and as well as words attributed to Jesus a few verses earlier. Verse 12 of Psalm 103 says, “As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our sins from us,” and in Luke 6:35, Jesus says, “But rather, love your enemies and do good to them, and lend expecting nothing back; then your reward will be great and you will be children of the Most High, for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.” These words don’t describe a divine parent who has a tit-for-tat relationship with me. I’m getting the message that, on the contrary, God responds to my weaknesses and failures with more love and generosity then I can’t contain. Luke 6:38 says, “Give and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing, will be poured into your lap.” The verse doesn’t say to hand God a metaphorical jar and that God will pour until the sand reaches to the rim, but he won’t pour any further. No, the verse says God is going to shake the jar of divine generosity sand so that as much as possible can fit into the vessel, and then God is going to keep pouring past the point where the jar overflows. God’s going to pour, not into a container with sides, but into my lap, where the generosity sands can spread out and be carried beyond me by the winds of the Spirit. I find the image in Luke 6:38 helpful. I’m calling what’s being poured “sand” because I know sand can be “packed together, shaken down, and overflowing . . . poured into [a] lap (Luke 6:38). I also know how its grains interact with each other, and I know the effects of water and wind on it.

Photo by Cayetano Gil on Unsplash

Each grain of sand is a tiny, distinctive component relative to all of creation, yet it so often looks like it forms a smooth, unified body because each grain connects to those around and helps to form the body we call sand. Water smooths the rough edges of the body of sand and binds its components together, just as one might say baptism does to the Christian community. Faith community aside, water and wind move through all of us, so that we all form a body in that way. No matter how solid the body of sand might seem, it’s fragile and porous. Water and wind constantly rearrange it. Wind blows individual grains in different directions, just as the Spirit moves different people in different ways.

Maybe it’s key not to forget that I’m a grain of sand and to let the water and wind blow through me to the next grain and from other grains to me. Maybe it’s key not to imagine that I can cling eternally to myself, to other grains or to things that don’t belong to the beach, — such as buckets or shovels — no matter how useful or attractive these tools might be. I’ll always dry out, get blown around, and need to find the beach and to be wetted again so I can make something new. I can’t create something larger than myself on my own, and I can’t see the whole beach because I’m a mere grain.

Photo by Heather McKean on Unsplash

Though I’m only one grain (and I can be irritating, to say the least, if I get caught where I’m not supposed to be), Luke 6:38 begins, “Give and gifts will be given to you. Maybe this phrase isn’t referring to God’s response to me. Maybe instead it’s referring to how others will respond when I give. After all, the phrase doesn’t identify God as the giver. Maybe Luke is using this phrase to remind us about the human experience. It seems only logical that the more someone gives, the more he or she gets back from others, and this shared generosity between people is one of the ways we experience God’s generosity in our lifetimes. Some people pass along the generosity they receive, even if not everyone does. Maybe the first person in an intricate web of generosity is blessed in unanticipated and/or immeasurable ways as giving is reciprocated from the ever-increasing numbers of lives the initial giver touches. If generosity works this way, it might be something we want to spread.

Work cited

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

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Soul Ajar

Photo by https://unsplash.com/@raysontjr

Jeremiah 17:5-8
Psalm 1:1-4,6
Luke 6: 17, 20-26

Me: Taken at face value, the passages seem to suggest I should be wary of trusting anyone or of taking advice, that it’s bad to be happy, to laugh, and to have enough to eat.

God: But you know that’s not the message. The message is a warning not to make happiness, humor, food, or the opinions of others into addictions. Pain medicine, in the literal sense, or in the other forms it can take, is not bad in and of itself — as long as it isn’t dangerous and is used judiciously. Use it sometimes so you can keep going, so pain doesn’t keep us from working together, so pain doesn’t feel stronger than hope and trust. Just be careful that getting the effects it offers doesn’t become the focus of your life. Don’t settle for being numb more often than not. To be alive is to be open to my reality, which encompasses joy, pain, uncertainty and everything else. My reality, which is reality itself, looks at everything with trust, faith, and love. It is spiritual expansion. My reality is the opposite of being closed and stagnant.

Me. My brain makes me feel closed and stagnant, stuck in indecision and anxiety. I wish my trust in you felt greater than that stuck feeling.

God: I know. Just know that I’m with you wherever you are. That’s a start, and if you know that, you’re not closed. The door of your soul is ajar, at least. As long as it isn’t closed so that you lock yourself away from the rest of creation, you’re not lost. Just let me be with you. (Rohr 80). Look with me at that reflection on the Beatitudes you wrote in your journal a few months ago.

Me: Okay, Here goes.

God: Breathe in and out, in and out…

Photo by https://unsplash.com/@julesea

Blessed are they who are not blind to the injustice and suffering in the world.

Blessed are those who are aware of their need for God and for others, who are not under the illusion that they are self-sufficient.

Blessed are they who seek to right wrongs, even if they bungle the process or aren’t always successful.

Blessed are they who delay gratification so they may be open to a greater good.

Blessed are they who set something good aside to make room for something even better, something priceless, something eternal.

Blessed are they who are able to give as well as to receive.

Blessed are they who give more than they are asked without expecting to receive anything back.

Blessed are they who treat others as they would like to be treated.

Blessed are they who try to surrender to God, and to let God work through them.

Blessed are they who live generously, and in doing so, give and receive God’s love.

Work consulted

Rohr, Richard. Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality. Franciscan Media, 2022.

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Reminders from God

Isaiah 6:1-2a, 3-8
Psalm 138: 1-5, 7-8
1 Corinthians 15:1-11
Luke 5:1-11


Forget-Me-Not Photo by George Pach on Unsplash

“The Lord is with me to the end.

Lord, your mercy endures forever.

Never forsake the work of your hands!

— Psalm 138:8

As I start drafting this post, it’s Thursday afternoon. There will be new readings this weekend, and I haven’t posted about last week’s. This is the first chance I’ve had to write. Because I’m short on time, I’m going to try a different format.

As I struggled with what to write about last week’s readings, I got into an internal conversation with God. Both sides of the dialogue below come from my own head, but my words are just as much the work of God as the rest of creation is. These Scripture readings above remind me that no weakness, sin, failure, or doubt can permanently stand in the way of God’s work. God doesn’t just work in spite of those weaknesses, failures, sins, and doubts. God works through them. So here’s to God working through my thoughts and my time crunch, and here’s how the conversation unfolded, roughly.


Me: I can’t imagine trusting you the way Peter, and Paul, and Isaiah did — to the point of death. I don’t even want to pretend to want to, though I do like the idea of staying eternally connected to you and to everything and everyone else that’s interconnected through you.

God: Do you think those guys wanted to suffer or to die? Do you think I wanted them to. No, but no one can live in fear and self-preservation mode and at the same time give and receive freely, which is what it means to love. Do you think Isaiah, Peter, and Paul trusted or suffered on their own?

Me: No, I don’t think that. You suffered with them.

God: I did. Because love is who I am. It’s the reason you exist, too. It’s what holds you and all of creation together, as the Rev. Fr. Richard Rohr says. And remember that when I touched Isaiah’s lips with the burning coal, I didn’t unveil all of his journey at that time, nor had Paul reached the end of his earthly journey when he wrote his letters. You’re reading about only parts of their journeys in the Scriptures, especially when you look only at certain passages.

Don’t forget that in the Gospel passage you’re wrestling with, I wasn’t asking Peter to do anything risky or dangerous yet. I wasn’t even asking him to do something that he hadn’t done over and over before. I was just asking him to do it one more time. You aren’t even aware of all the times you do the ordinary for me, one more time. You aren’t aware because it’s what’s uncomfortable AND out of the ordinary that you remember most. Finding with me the strength to persist in ordinary service despite fatigue is different than being called to do something outside of your comfort zone, let alone something life-threatening.

Me: I guess that’s true.

God: And don’t forget about the time Peter got so excited to see me when he and the rest of the guys were sailing during a storm.

Me: Was it stormy that time, God, or am I thinking of another time when the guys were sailing?

God: Doesn’t matter. That’s not the point of this conversation. Anyway, do you remember when Peter was so excited to see Jesus that he insisted on walking on water to come to him?

Me: Yeah.

God: Did Peter make it over to Jesus?

Me: Nope. He freaked out and sank.

God: And did Peter always admit to being friends with Jesus?

Me: Um . . . No.

God: There you go.

Me: Thanks for the reminders.

God. I’ve got plenty where those came from. Want another one?

Me: Sure.

God: Remember, every relationship is different. It’s helpful only to a point to compare your relationship with me to Peter’s or Paul’s relationship with me. And there are parts of every intimate relationship that only the two involved know about.


In case any of the words I’ve used in this exchange are unique to the translation of the Bible I commonly use, here’s a citation for my translation:

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

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