On that day you will ask nothing of me. Very truly, I tell you, if you ask anything of the Father in my name, he will give it to you. Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, so that your joy may be complete.

“I have said these things to you in figures of speech. The hour is coming when I will no longer speak to you in figures but will tell you plainly of the Father. On that day you will ask in my name. I do not say to you that I will ask the Father on your behalf, for the Father himself loves you because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God. I came from the Father and have come into the world; again, I am leaving the world and am going to the Father.”

His disciples said, “Yes, now you are speaking plainly, not in any figure of speech! Now we know that you know all things and do not need to have anyone question you; by this we believe that you came from God.” Jesus answered them, “Do you now believe? The hour is coming, indeed it has come, when you will be scattered, each one to his home, and you will leave me alone. Yet I am not alone because the Father is with me. I have said this to you so that in me you may have peace. In the world you face persecution, but take courage: I have conquered the world!”

John 16:23-33

the sermon:

Welcome, and Happy Rogation Day!

I know that you’ve probably had this day marked on your calendar as a big one, up there with Christmas and Easter.

No?

Yeah… most of us didn’t grow up with Rogation Sunday on our calendars. But the tradition points at something we all desperately need. 

It comes from the Latin rogare (roh-GAH-reh), which simply means “to ask,” maybe with a hint of “to beg.” And this Sunday, the whole arc of the lectionary is moving us to think honestly about what it means to ask God for anything at all.

If we’re honest, most of us have a complicated relationship with prayer.

We believe in it.
But, we’re not always sure it works.

We do it, and then feel guilty that we don’t do it more, or more faithfully, or with more confidence.

What does Jesus actually mean when he says, “ask, and you will receive?”

the invitation

This is the very question Jesus answers in our Gospel reading for today.

Let me set the stage first. It’s the evening of the Last Supper, just hours before he’s betrayed, arrested, and crucified. He’s well aware that this is His last opportunity to prepare the disciples on what life looks like after He’s gone.

And it’s in that moment, these final instructions, that He gives His closest friends the most intimate gift He can… direct access to the Father.

Ask in my name.
Ask and receive.
That your joy may be full.

That term “in my name,” in the original language is en tō onomati mou. And it’s not about a formula to get whatever you’re asking for. It’s more about a relational union with who Jesus is. To ask in his name is to ask in alignment with his character and will. 

So it’s not a “me” request, like “Father, please let me win the Powerball this week, and I promise to give 10% to the church. In Jesus’ name!”

And there’s nothing wrong with asking for things, what we call a petition. But it really only makes sense when adoration and surrender come first. Prayer makes most sense when it begins with orientation towards the One who is already our peace. 

Thomas Merton once wrote, 

“The value of our prayer is not to be measured by the feelings it produces in us… [but] is to be found in the fact that it is an orientation of our whole being to God.”

St. Augustine takes it even further in his Letter to Proba, essentially saying (paraphrasing) that prayer enlarges our capacity to receive what God already desires to give; the asking stretches the heart to hold the joy intended for us.

Just as Jesus said, “that your joy may be full.”

That word “full” in the original language points to a joy brought to its completion, not a fleeting happiness, but more like fulfillment. 

All this because, as Jesus says, “the Father himself loves you.” This approach to prayer isn’t about earning access. The Father is already leaning toward us.

the honest problem

Sounds amazing, right? 

But this is where it starts getting real for the disciples. They get this great insight from their Teacher and Master, and they think they’ve arrived, saying:

“Now we know that you know all things…”

They’re confident; ready to take on the world.

And then Jesus dismantles it. He says to them:

“Do you now believe? The hour is coming… you will be scattered. [You] will leave me alone.”

That scattering… It’s not like a strategic retreat as they go out on mission to plant and grow the Church. It’s more like being scattered like sheep. 

The trials and tribulations they’ll experience will shake them up and send them running for the hills.

Here’s the thing, the disciples were overconfident. And I get that! There’s this almost universal pattern as humans where we believe that comprehension is the same as transformation.

But Jesus flat out tells them, that’s cute, but you’re about to get shook.

Boxing legend Mike Tyson probably said it best when he was asked about his opponent’s “plan” for fighting him. He said:

“Everyone has a plan, until they get punched in the face.”

It’s very different thinking you know something, until you have to live it out.

One of the Early Church Fathers, John Chrysostom, preached about this in his Homilies on John. He says that the disciples made the mistake of confusing the hearing of truth with the possession of it. They believe they understand, but their understanding hasn’t been tested by experience. 

He makes the case that Jesus allows the scattering precisely because it’ll deepen their faith in ways that undisturbed confidence never could. Tribulation isn’t the enemy of faith, it’s the kiln.

Here’s the thing. There will be times in our lives when we feel like we’re going through the unimaginable and that God’s not there (or not listening). In those moments, even praying at all is an act of faith.

And Jesus knows that. He sees it coming. And he doesn’t leave it there. 

peace and tribulation

He says to them (v. 33):

“I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”

There are a few things happening in this verse that I want to draw your attention to. 

First, Jesus says, “in me you will have peace.”

This peace we find, we find in Him. This is relational. It’s through our proximity and connection to Christ that we find peace.

And we find an echo of this in the BCP’s Collect for Peace, which is part of Evening Prayer. It goes like this:

“Most holy God, the source of all good desires, all right judgements, and all just works: Give to us, your servants, that peace which the world cannot give…”

This distinguishes God’s peace from the world’s peace.

Listen, we all know that the things of this world can bring us a certain level of peace. And it’s not unusual to try to find that peace in lots of things… money, social approval, control, relationships, achievement, health… I can go on, but I think you get the idea.

And it’s not that these things are bad. The problem isn’t the things. It’s the weight we put on them. It’s the belief that they can deliver something they were never designed to provide.

But the peace we find in Jesus, the peace which the world cannot give, that’s where we find wholeness, right relationship, completeness.

In the original language, this peace isn’t the absence of conflict or tribulation. But it’s His presence with us in the middle of it.

In this statement, Jesus follows that up by encouraging the disciples (and us) to take heart, because He has overcome the world.

The original language grammar here is interesting too. It’s more accurately, I have already overcome. It’s a completed action with ongoing results. The victory is already accomplished, not still pending.

So Jesus is telling them to take heart, or be of good cheer, or have courage, because it is finished.

This is an Easter sentence if there ever was one. We’re still in the Easter season, still living inside the reality of an empty tomb. “I have already overcome” is just another way of saying He is risen.

Julian of Norwich, writing in the middle of her own intense suffering, captured it this way: 

“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” 

That’s not a denial of her circumstance. That’s someone who has staked everything on the same finished victory Jesus is describing.

And that changes how we pray.

open hands

Henri Nouwen, in his book With Open Hands, explores this idea of how we pray. He says that we often come to God in prayer with clenched fists, clutching what we want, what we fear, what we demand.

He says that prayer is really the slow, and sometimes difficult, work of opening our hands. When Jesus says, “ask in my name,” it’s more about receiving on His terms, rather than demanding on ours.

But that means we need to release control, and trust that God really has overcome it all. And that can be a scary place for us.

So Nouwen suggests a prayer something like this:

“Dear God, I am so afraid to open my clenched fists! Who will I be when I have nothing left to hold on to? Who will I be when I stand before you with empty hands? Please help me to gradually open my hands and to discover that I am not what I own, but what you want to give me.”

This all really starts digging into the core of who we are, and Whose we are.

Our prayers become less about what we want and more about aligning ourselves with His heart.

It looks like the Lord’s Prayer prayed slowly, rather than being recited quickly without even thinking about it:

Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy Name,
thy kingdom come,
thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.

In fact, when we get to that point in the prayers today, I’d like to slow the pace so that we can marinate in it just a little longer.

conclusion

The ancient Rogation tradition had a beautiful practice where the congregation would physically walk the parish boundaries together, stopping to pray, and asking God for what was needed.

It wasn’t a magic ritual.
It wasn’t a performance.

But it was a whole community, together, opening their hands to receive from the Lord.

And that’s what Jesus is inviting us into today. Not a better prayer technique, or more confidence, or more discipline, or more feeling.

Just open hands.

A community that walks and asks and trusts together.

The victory is already won. The peace is already given. And the Father is already leaning toward us.

Let us pray.

Lord of all good desires, we come to you this morning with open hands. Not demanding. Not performing. Just asking, in the name of the one who has already overcome, that you would receive us as we are, form us as you will, and send us out as doers of your word. Amen.

It is a credit to you if, being aware of God, you endure pain while suffering unjustly. If you endure when you are beaten for doing wrong, what credit is that? But if you endure when you do right and suffer for it, you have God’s approval. For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you should follow in his steps.

“He committed no sin,
and no deceit was found in his mouth.”

When he was abused, he did not return abuse; when he suffered, he did not threaten; but he entrusted himself to the one who judges justly. He himself bore our sins in his body on the cross, so that, free from sins, we might live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed. For you were going astray like sheep, but now you have returned to the shepherd and guardian of your souls.

1 Peter 2:19-25

the sermon:

I remember a time when I worked in the corporate world when I felt like I was doing all the right things, but I still got the short end of the stick.

I worked hard, earned the respect of my peers, and always looked for ways to improve how we worked. And when a certain promotion came up, everyone who knew me assured me that I was by far the most qualified, and that I was a shoo-in for the role.

Someone else got it.

In fact, what I got was a trip to the corporate office (where my boss worked) so that he could tell me, “Dan, I know you love your family and all, but don’t let that get in the way of your career. You really do have a lot to offer.”

I was dumbfounded. I’d tried to be a genuine bright spot everywhere I went, and apparently that was exactly the problem.

Has anyone else ever been told, in one way or another, that who you are is the obstacle?

the world peter is writing into

Now, I want to be careful here. My story is one of frustration and disappointment. What Peter is writing to is something considerably harder.

In our reading today from Peter’s letter to the Church scattered across Asia Minor, likely written during the reign of Nero, Christians faced real hostility, real social rupture, and in some cases, very real persecution.

Rome called them atheists, not because they had no faith, but because their faith had no idol Rome could recognize.

And in those times, there was a code people followed. Peter is specifically speaking to the Haustafel, the Greco-Roman household structure for organizing social ethics. In this structure, it was the paterfamilias, usually the oldest living male, who had absolute legal authority over the extended household.

Peter works through this structure deliberately: governing authorities, then servants, then wives and husbands. He’s not skipping around. He’s moving through the architecture of daily life.

So when someone converted to Christianity without the paterfamilias converting, they were stepping outside the household’s religious identity. That’s not a small thing. That’s social rupture.

Peter isn’t endorsing this system. He’s speaking pastorally into this situation that his readers can’t immediately change.

charis and the two kinds of suffering

Into this structure, Peter starts by talking to the household servants, saying:

“It is a credit to you if, being aware of God, you endure pain while suffering unjustly. If you endure when you are beaten for doing wrong, what credit is that? But if you endure when you do right and suffer for it, you have God’s approval.”

Pay attention to what’s happening here. The term often translated here as “a credit” or “commendable” is charis, in the original Greek. It’s accurate, but it really loses something significant. Throughout the rest of the New Testament, it’s the primary word for grace. And Peter uses it twice here, bracketing this whole instruction.

Listen to me. He’s not saying that suffering is good. He’s saying that God doesn’t abandon you inside it.

The grace is not in the suffering itself. It’s in who is present with you in it.

And he’s even calling out the idea of enduring suffering when you do wrong.

Sometimes, our suffering is something that happens because of our own choices or sin. That’s consequence. That’s the natural weight of our own choices.

What Peter is saying here is that suffering that comes from doing good, from living as a Christian, that carries charis. Grace is present and active within it.

Enduring unjust suffering while keeping your eyes on God isn’t just admirable behavior. It’s walking in something divinely graced.

called, hypogrammos, and paradidomi

“For to this you have been called…”

…Peter writes in verse 21. I love that he used that word, called.

When I began my discernment process for eventually being ordained as a deacon in the church, there were several levels of ensuring that I and the church were certain about my calling.

And Peter is using that same idea here, but not just for ordained people. He’s writing to household servants when he talks about calling.

Open a Book of Common Prayer to page 855.

This is from our Outline of the Faith (commonly called the Catechism). There’s a question and answer there that I want us to look at together.

Q. Who are the ministers of the Church?
A. The ministers of the Church are the lay persons, bishops, priests, and deacons.

In my training, I learned that with everything in the Book of Common Prayer, order is important. If there is a list of things, the first one in the list is the ideal option. So notice that in our Outline of the Faith, the first ones listed as the ministers of the Church are the lay persons.

Peter is speaking to this idea. He’s recognizing that the way we live our lives is a ministry to the people around us.

And here’s my favorite part of this. Peter writes:

“…because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you should follow in his steps.”

This idea of following Christ’s example, the word used here is hypogrammos. This is the only time this word shows up in the New Testament, and it literally describes a writing tablet students traced to learn their letters. Peter could have used any word for example or model. He chose this one.

What Peter is saying is that Christ is the pattern, and that we trace the shape of his life with our own.

Listen carefully. You’re not generating your own original response to suffering. You’re following the pattern that’s already been made.

There’s one more thing I want you to see to help understand this pattern.

In verse 23, Peter writes:

“When he was abused, he did not return abuse; when he suffered, he did not threaten; but he entrusted himself to the one who judges justly.”

The word I want you to see in there is paradidomi. It’s not a, “He was handed over.” It’s, “He handed Himself over.”

It’s a posture of deep trust in the God who judges justly.

isaiah 53 and the Shepherd

That line, and the rest of verses 22-25 there, are heavy in Isaiah 53 language. You could even say that Peter is making a theological argument that Jesus is the Suffering Servant that Isaiah foresaw.

And he carries it by suggesting that the people who follow Jesus are invited into that same servant identity.

Watch how Peter lands this idea, straight from the Isaiah 53 text.

“For you were going astray like sheep, but now you have returned to the shepherd and guardian of your souls.”

Psalm 23, which is also our Psalm for this week, has three movements worth naming here.

First, shepherd. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”

Second, valley. “Even though I walk through the darkest valley… you are with me.”

And third, table. “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.”

Notice the posture shift. The Psalm begins talking about God. Then, when the valley comes, it shifts to talking to God. You are with me.

And where does it land? At the table.

Not a table of escape. A table of presence. In the middle of everything.

When we come to this altar during the Eucharist, we come bringing all of our brokenness, our suffering, everything we’re carrying. And we meet him there.

The one who was broken for us.

the third way

I love how Peter handles all of this.

He doesn’t deny or minimize the suffering. He also doesn’t baptize the unjust system that produces it, either.

Instead, he offers a third way. Endure it with dignity, trusting the outcome to a God who sees and judges justly, and recognize that Christ has already walked this exact path ahead of us.

We don’t need to make this up as we go. The pattern is already there. We’re merely tracing the lines that have already been laid down.

Tertullian, one of the early Church Fathers, wrote to Christians under Roman persecution around A.D. 200, and his words are worth hearing here. He writes about how Christians who are suffering unjustly aren’t losing. Rather, they’re bearing witness by a different set of rules than what the empire is playing by.

Almost 200 years after that, John Chrysostom preached a series on 1 Peter in which he leans into the charis language. He says that the Christian calculus of honor was genuinely inverted from the Roman world’s calculus.

In a culture where social shame was devastating, Chrysostom told his congregations in Antioch that what looks like humiliation from the outside is, in God’s economy, the location of real grace.

That was true in Antioch in the fourth century.

It was true for household servants in Asia Minor in the first.

And it’s true for us today.

So in just a few minutes, when we come forward to this altar, I want to invite you to bring it. Bring the thing that’s been done to you that wasn’t fair. Bring the promotion you deserved and didn’t get. Bring the relationship that ground you down. Bring the suffering that came not from your own choices but simply from trying to live with integrity in a world that doesn’t always reward that.

Bring it, and lay it down with the One who meets you here.

The One who was broken for us.

The Shepherd and Guardian of our souls.

Who has already walked every step of this path ahead of us.

By his wounds, you have been healed.

Each taunt a jab at his identity… “If you are the Son of God…”

The religious leaders, bystanders, and even the criminals crucified next to him all threw insults at Him.

And it was at that moment when He cried out with a loud voice…

“Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?”

Which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

This isn’t the first time these words show up. It’s the opening line of Psalm 22, a plea for deliverance from suffering and hostility.

In His darkest moment, Jesus reached for His prayer book.

And while the words he shared were few, those who were there — His followers, the religious leaders who put Him on that cross, those passing by — they would have recognized that line immediately.

In Jewish practice in that time, quoting the opening line of a Psalm like that was understood to invoke the entire Psalm.

By verse 24, it gets to… 

“For he did not despise or abhor the affliction of the afflicted; he did not hide his face from me, but he heard when I cried to him.”

And by the end it becomes a song of praise and proclamation to future generations.

This cry… It’s not a failure of faith. It’s actually faith in its most honest and raw form. 

Even in the feeling of desperation and aloneness, he still says, “My God.”

He’s not renouncing the relationship, He’s leaning into it.

Martin Luther had a word he used for this feeling of suffering. He called it Anfechtung. It’s something like “spiritual assault” or “the terror of feeling Godforsaken.” It’s something he’s experienced many times throughout his life.

I remember a time in my life when I felt abandoned.

My first son was 17-months old. My baby boy. And the day after my second Father’s Day, we took him to the doctor where we received a Type 1 Diabetes diagnosis. It rocked us to the very core of our being.

At first, I had to be the strong one. I didn’t have time to process. Someone had to stay clear-minded enough to drive us to and from doctors and hospitals and eventually get us all home.

A day or so after getting settled back in at home, my wife and son were both napping. I stood in our kitchen, and something inside me just broke. Every feeling, fear, and sense of despair flooded in all at once.

Anfechtung.

I dropped to the floor, and sat there in the fetal position, just crying. 

At first, it was hard enough to even breathe under the pressure of it all. And then the words came out, almost involuntarily…

Why, God?

And in that cry, I couldn’t feel Him near me at all. But I still cried out to Him.

And I’ve wondered since then… was God actually there? Could He have been?

In the third century, Origen explores this idea, pointing out that the forsakenness that Jesus experienced was real in its felt quality, but was not a metaphysical rupture.

In other words, he understands that the eternal union between the Son and the Father could never be severed. So Jesus was never alone in that moment, even when He felt otherwise.

Origen says that Jesus entered the full human experience of spiritual desolation so that humans might never have to face it alone.

I’ll say that again… So that we will never have to face it alone.

And that’s where Jesus is.

Hanging on that cross, taking on the weight of the sin of the whole world, carrying unimaginable pain, and feeling abandoned.

Anfechtung.

He cries out, “My God.”

The relationship holds, even when the feeling doesn’t. When everything else is stripped away, there’s still “my God.”

And that’s what faith looks like sometimes.

No certainty that everything is going to be okay.
No comfort.

Just a voice in the dark, aimed at God.

That day, as I sat completely broken on my kitchen floor, I couldn’t imagine what the next day — the next moment — would look like. 

And as I look back on one of the hardest days of my life, I can see now what I couldn’t see then.

He was with me.

Huddled next to me in the fetal position, crying with me…

“Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?”

—

Note: This was written as a reflection for a Good Friday service at St. Edward’s Episcopal Church called “The Seven Last Words” reflecting on the seven last statements of Jesus before He died on the Cross.

There was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” Jesus answered him, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?

“Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.

“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

John 3:1-17

the sermon:

Have you ever believed in God… and still felt like you were standing in the dark?

Let’s be honest. God isn’t always easy to understand. Sometimes our struggle is simply understanding who He is. Or maybe we wrestle with those big questions like, “why does He allow suffering?”

Whatever the question, I’m willing to bet every one of us has wrestled with our faith. 

And on the outside, we want to look like the happy, got-it-all-together Christians, while on the inside we’re not always sure… maybe even have doubts.

If that’s you, I’d like to introduce you to someone. His name is Nicodemus.

It’s in our Gospel reading from John 3 today where we first meet him. He’s a Pharisee, which means that he was a teacher and interpreter of the Law. He would have been trained in Torah and oral tradition and deeply immersed in Israel’s covenant story.

He would have been able to interpret and debate the Law. He wasn’t just educated. He was elite.

Yet, when he comes to talk to Jesus, he does so at night.

Why at night?

Maybe he didn’t want to be seen.
Maybe he wasn’t ready to commit publicly.
Or, maybe he’s still just sorting it all out.

Haven’t we all done that? We all have our own reasons why we often struggle with God…

We want control.
We want it to make sense.
We want theology that fits in neat categories.
We want answers for suffering.
We want God to behave predictably.

And when He doesn’t… we wrestle.

But Christianity has always wrestled with mystery. Think about ideas like the Trinity, or Incarnation, or the nature of Jesus, or Grace. 

Some of the greatest minds in history have wrestled with these things, and often get to the point of just saying, “mystery.”

St. Augustine once said, 

“If you comprehend it, it is not God.”

God is just so big that our finite minds cannot always comprehend it all.

The problem isn’t that there is mystery.
The problem is that we prefer mastery.

You don’t have to understand everything to step into the light.

I think that’s why Nicodemus resonates so deeply with me.

I am Nicodemus.

the nicodemus struggle

Unlike most of the other religious leaders of that time, Nicodemus isn’t a skeptic trying to trap Jesus. He’s trying to understand Him.

He believes that Jesus is from God. And he recognizes something divine in Jesus. 

He’s not hostile or mocking. He’s actually sincere.

He says to Jesus,

“Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God…”

That’s a respectful thing to say. But it’s also a safe thing to say.

He puts Jesus into a category… teacher, from God, sent. It’s all so manageable.

And then Jesus blows that category apart. He doesn’t say, “Thank you.” He says,

“no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.”

Look at what just happened here…

Nicodemus came looking for more information. He wanted clarification.
Jesus told him that he needed a new beginning. He demands transformation.

This unexpected direction threw Nicodemus into a mental tailspin. The confusion sets in, and he starts running away with questions… 

“How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?”

This whole idea of “new birth” was destabilizing for Nicodemus, because…

You can’t engineer it.
You can’t optimize it.
You can’t earn it.
You can’t control it.

For someone who’s whole life was built around keeping and teaching adherence to Torah, this goes against everything he’d ever learned and knew about God.

And it’s that same thing that unsettles us, even today.

We want a faith that makes sense.
We want doctrines we can diagram.
We want suffering explained.
We want God predictable.

In our reading today, we don’t even see Nicodemus getting it yet. He’s struggling with accepting these Truths. The last thing we hear from him in this passage is, 

“How can these things be?”

Nicodemus doesn’t get it that night. But that’s not the end of his story.

the long arc: from night to the Cross

And here’s what I love about John’s Gospel. This isn’t the last time we see Nicodemus.

There are three times when we see Nicodemus explicitly named in the Scriptures. But make no mistake. He was close to everything that was going on.

As a Pharisee and ruler of the Jews, he would have been part of the leadership circle that debated Jesus. He would have known the concerns, heard the accusations, and felt the tension.

Anywhere in the Gospels when we see the Pharisees involved, even if he wasn’t specifically there, he likely would have known about what was happening.

And the second time we see his name pop up, he’s with a group of the Pharisees. In John 7, there’s a story about the temple police being asked by the Pharisees about their failure to arrest Jesus.

The religious leaders want Jesus arrested. And in that interaction, Nicodemus speaks up. Not boldly or dramatically. But almost in a meek little way that makes a way to hear more from Jesus himself. He says,

“Our law does not judge people without first giving them a hearing to find out what they are doing, does it?”

He’s not confessing what he believes about Jesus. Rather he creates space to talk about it.

Sometimes faith begins not with a declaration, but with a question.

Then comes the response from the other Pharisees. He’s mocked by them, likely to just shut him up… “Aren’t you from Galilee too?”

Later in John 19, we get the story of the Crucifixion. Jesus is dead. The disciples have scattered.

And Nicodemus shows up again. Verse 39 reads,

“Nicodemus, who had first come to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds.”

This act… it was expensive, public, risky, and highly devotional. 

The man who first came in the dark of night, now stands at the Cross in full daylight.

John never tells us what Nicodemus believed. But he showed us where he stood.

There’s an old saying,

“We are not made whole all at once, but little by little.”

Nicodemus moved from night, to caution, to costly devotion in full daylight.

And all of this is building toward something that Jesus says in that first conversation, a sentence we all already know.

John 3:16.

for God so loved the world

We’ve seen the struggle. We’ve watched Nicodemus wrestle. And we’ve followed him from questions in the night to standing at the foot of the cross in the daylight. And now Jesus speaks to the heart of it all.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

It’s not “God tolerated.”
It’s not “God corrected.”
And it’s not “God analyzed.”

God loved.

This is God initiating.

Nicodemus came at night with his questions. But God was already moving toward him.

Listen carefully. Before you figured it out, before you solved your theology, before you resolved your doubts… God loved.

Who did God love? The world. In the original Greek, John used the word kosmos, a term he used somewhere around 78 times in his Gospel. 

In John’s Gospel, kosmos often describes a world that misunderstands Him, resists Him, even rejects Him. It’s not just the people who get it right. It’s the people who don’t.

If you were Nicodemus, a Pharisee, a teacher of Israel, you would expect, “For God so loved Israel…” or maybe “For God so loved the righteous…”

But Jesus said, kosmos.

That includes Romans and pagans.
Skeptics and religious elites.
Those who misunderstand Him.
Even those who crucify Him.

God’s love isn’t triggered by your understanding, it precedes and surpasses it.

The God who called creation good knew what it would cost Him to redeem it. And still, He created. And still, He loved.

So the Word who spoke galaxies into existence gave Himself over to the nails in order to make a way for us.

And Jesus says…”That whoever believes…”

This isn’t an intellectual agreement. It’s trust. It’s stepping into light. 

Belief, in John’s Gospel, isn’t nodding your head. It’s leaning your weight onto Him.

Like Nicodemus, it’s moving from night to daylight.

You don’t have to understand everything to step into the light.

not a slogan… a rescue

Nicodemus didn’t walk away from that conversation with everything figured out.

He still had questions.
He still had tension.
He still didn’t fully understand how this “new birth” thing worked.

But somewhere between that conversation at night and the foot of the cross in the daylight… something shifted.

He moved.

He didn’t master the mystery.
He stepped into it.

And that’s the invitation for us.

John 3:16 isn’t a slogan.
It’s not just something we put on signs or memorize as children.

It’s the announcement that the God who made the world loves the world.
Not the polished version of it.
Not the cleaned-up version of it.
The real one.
The confused one.
The doubting one.
The broken one.

The one that still comes at night.

It’s the declaration that before you solved your theology, before you reconciled your questions, before you untangled your doubts… God loves you.

And He gave His Son.

You don’t have to understand everything to step into the light.

You don’t have to resolve every tension before you trust Him.

Faith is not mastery. It’s movement. It’s turning your face toward the One who already turned His toward you.

And that is the hope of the Gospel.

Not that we have figured Him out, but that we are known and loved.

And that love is enough to bring us from the dark into the light.
Even when we don’t yet understand it.

Amen.

• Isaiah 61:10-62:3
• John 1:1-18
• Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7

the sermon:

Happy fourth day of Christmas!

If I’m honest, I’m a little disappointed that my true love didn’t give to me four calling birds today. I really had my heart set on that!

Seriously though… I recently learned that each of the gifts in the 12 days of Christmas song actually represent something. The 4 calling birds is representative of the 4 Gospels, going out and proclaiming the Good News. And that’s a pretty cool gift!

But here we are, we’re through the season of Advent, the time when we anticipate (in one sense) the coming of the birth of a Savior and (in another sense) the return of Christ.

And for most of us, with the gifts all unwrapped, the lights may still be up, but Christmas Day has passed.

Yet for all our anticipation, the world hasn’t suddenly changed. I’ve been checking the news, and I can confirm… It’s still much the same.

We celebrate that Christ has come.
Yet the world is still broken.

It leaves us with a lingering question…

Has God really restored us (as promised), or are we still waiting?

That’s a tension that I’d argue most of us live in at some level. 

We are living in the in-between.

And today’s readings have this amazing arc that runs through them that goes directly at this question.

The move from Isaiah through the John’s Gospel and into Paul’s letter to the church in Galatia, takes on this incredible journey right into the heart of this tension we live in.

Isaiah: God Speaks Identity Before Completion

First, let’s take a look at our reading from Isaiah today. This part of Isaiah (chapters 61-62) is looking ahead to the time after the Babylonian Exile, and even far beyond that into the future. So the audience is a people who were restored from exile, but not yet fully renewed. 

God is talking to an in-between people. 

They would have been free from the rule of the Babylonian Empire, but still looking around at a Jerusalem in shambles. It would have been a generation who grew up, their entire lives, in exile. Hearing from generations before them about the greatness of their God who would bring restoration. Imagine their surprise as they entered Jerusalem only to find it far from the great, holy city they were expecting.

And this passage, written to them, doesn’t instruct or correct them.

It announces.

It speaks to their identity, long before He completes their restoration.

for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation,
he has covered me with the robe of righteousness,

God tells these in-between people that He clothes them in salvation and righteousness. This is relational language, not moralistic or corrective. And it’s God acting first, speaking to the core of who they are.

as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland,
and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.

This is wedding imagery, filled with delight and joy! And a little further down…

her vindication shines out like the dawn,
and her salvation like a burning torch.

The image here is of light, a light that breaks the darkness of night.

These words in Isaiah are incredible! 

Spoken to a people so filled with the hope of restoration, but still living in a world where it would’ve often been difficult to see… To them, God speaks identity before He completes restoration.

And likewise for us, as we live in the in-between, with all of our sure hope in Christ’s redemption, yet still living in a fallen, broken world…

We, too, are clothed before we are corrected. God has already declared it.

Isaiah tells us what God intends to do. Christmas shows us how God actually does it.

John: The Word Pitches His Tent Among Us

Now let’s take a look at our Gospel reading from John 1. I feel like this is one of the most brilliant pieces of writing in the entire Bible. In it John doesn’t just start with the birth of Jesus, he takes it back to Creation, His ultimate origin.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.

John ties Jesus to the Creation, the beginning of all things. And then he ties it to the Incarnation…

And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

The Eternal Word enters time.

That phrase “The Word became flesh and lived/dwelt among us,” carries this idea that’s more like he “pitched his tent.” It carries echoes of the tabernacle and God’s presence.

God moved into the neighborhood!

This is the Emmanuel, God With Us that the people were waiting for. This is God in the flesh, come to restore all things and make everything right. He came to live and walk with us.

And there’s this one little line in there…

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

And just a little side note here… don’t forget the imagery of light that we saw in Isaiah too.

But this line is significant, because it doesn’t say that everything is instantly fixed. The darkness is acknowledged, not denied.

When Jesus came, He stepped into a broken world. And His presence didn’t just magically make the brokenness go away once and for all (at least not yet). 

This… this is an idea that blows me away. When we’re feeling the brokenness and pain and everything else in our lives, Jesus doesn’t just whisk it all away. Rather, He walks through it with us.

And that’s what John is showing us through his version of the Christmas story… Christ (the One from the beginning) has come, and He’s pitched His tent among us… 

And the fullness is still unfolding.

John goes right at that big question of ours… 

Has God restored us, or are we still waiting?

His answer is, yes… and yes.

Galatians: From Guardian to Family

And now, let’s look at what Paul has to  say about this. Our reading from his letter to the Galatians starts with this…

Now before faith came, we were imprisoned and guarded under the law until faith would be revealed. Therefore the law was our disciplinarian until Christ came, so that we might be justified by faith.

In the original Greek, when Paul speaks of the law here, the words he uses carry this idea of the law not as a teacher, but more as a household guardian. It’s more like someone tasked with escorting a child safely until maturity. And once maturity comes, the guardian’s role ends.

In other words, the Law was never meant to be permanent.

Paul continues, saying…

when the fullness of time had come

God’s action isn’t rushed. It’s not delayed. It’s intentional, not reactive. It’s perfectly timed.

Paul continues…

God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law

This is incarnation language. God Himself, fully human… fully under the same constraints as Israel. Jesus doesn’t bypass our human condition, He enters it. The Word pitched His tent among us.

in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children.

Here we see that redemption leans not just to freedom, but to family.

And that idea of adoption is a big one to me being an adoptive dad. Historically (in Roman times) and today, it means the child is given full legal status. It’s irreversible. And the child is granted inheritance.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the heart behind adoption. With our biological kids, love is assumed. We’re responsible for their existence, and therefore responsible for their care. 

But with our adopted kids, there was a moment when we looked at them and said, “Yes, I want you in my life, and I promise to give you everything that my biological kids get.” We didn’t have them through a regular pregnancy, but through a pregnancy of the heart. And we said, “I choose you.”

In the same way, God does that with us. He looks at us, even with all of our mess and brokenness and says, “I choose you, and I grant you all the rights of my own Son.”

And I love how Paul includes this too…

because you are children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!”

Being children of God, we have the Holy Spirit inside us crying out to the Father. It’s our identity in Christ being confirmed from within.

And that term, Abba… it translates technically as “father,” but it carries a more intimate, personal tone… more like, “daddy!” 

I can’t hear that without thinking about coming home after a long day and my kids running to the door, shouting, “Daddy, Daddy, I missed you!”

That is the cry of the Holy Spirit inside of us for the Father who sent His Son, Jesus, to be born as a human to redeem us into His family.

And while this world may still feel upside down, we are not defined by what is unfinished.

Christological Center

So as we continue to celebrate this season of Christmas, let me summarize this journey we’ve just been on through these readings for you.

In Jesus Christ, God doesn’t wait for the world to be ready, or for His people to be fully healed. 

The eternal Word becomes flesh and pitches His tent among us. He enters our in-between, a world restored and yet still broken, and speaks a new word of belonging. 

He doesn’t simply promise light; He becomes our light. 

He doesn’t merely offer freedom; He adopts us as children. 

And even as we continue to wait for the fullness of renewal, we do so clothed in grace, named by love, and held fast by the Spirit who cries within us, “Abba, Father!”

This is what Christmas means when the decorations come down and the waiting continues.

Sending: Clothed in Light

So what does this mean for us, here and now?

It means that even as we continue to wait, we don’t wait empty-handed.
We don’t wait unnamed.
We don’t wait unloved.

Isaiah tells us that God has already clothed His people in salvation and righteousness.
John shows us that the Word has already pitched His tent among us.
And Paul assures us that we’re no longer slaves, but children.

That’s why our Collect prays that the light of Christ, already enkindled in our hearts, would shine forth in our lives.

Not a light we create.
Not hope we manufacture.
But grace already given.

So even in the in-between, we live as people clothed in light, named by love, and held fast by God.

Amen.

Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4

Image: Habakkuk the prophet, Russian icon from first quarter of 18th cen. via Wikimedia Commons

These are the words of the letter that the prophet Jeremiah sent from Jerusalem to the remaining elders among the exiles, and to the priests, the prophets, and all the people, whom Nebuchadnezzar had taken into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon.

Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.

Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7

Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, a descendant of David– that is my gospel, for which I suffer hardship, even to the point of being chained like a criminal. But the word of God is not chained. Therefore I endure everything for the sake of the elect, so that they may also obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory. The saying is sure:

If we have died with him, we will also live with him;
if we endure, we will also reign with him;
if we deny him, he will also deny us;
if we are faithless, he remains faithful–
for he cannot deny himself.

Remind them of this, and warn them before God that they are to avoid wrangling over words, which does no good but only ruins those who are listening. Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved by him, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly explaining the word of truth.

2 Timothy 2:8-15

the sermon

When I was ordained as deacon last year, I stood right here in front of our bishop as he addressed me in what’s called The Examination. In it he lists off many things that I am to do as a deacon in the Church before asking me the question…

“Do you believe that you are truly called by God and his Church to the life and work of a deacon?”

To which I respond, “I believe I am so called.”

One of those I’m instructed to do reads like this, “You are to interpret to the Church the needs, concerns, and hopes of the world.”

This is one of the marks of diaconate ministry, to have one foot in the Church, and one foot in the world.

And I’m sure it’s not a stretch for anyone here to look around and see a world in turmoil. 

It doesn’t matter where you fall on the ideological spectrum. It’s easy to see that we’re politically divided, socially fragmented, and many are living in economic uncertainty. This can leave any of us feeling alienated, like we’re strangers in our own culture.

Exile, if you will.

This isn’t a new thing, by any means. God’s people have always known this feeling. In our readings today, we hear from Jeremiah as he writes to the exiles in Babylon. And from Paul writing from a Roman prison. Both wrote to people tempted by despair or easy answers.

Through these readings we see that faithfulness doesn’t depend on perfect conditions. 

It’s about living as God’s people right where we are, trusting that His grace goes before us and follows after us.

Let’s start with Jeremiah’s letter to the exiles and what it meant for them, and for us.

Jeremiah 29: Faithful Presence in Exile

I’ll set the stage first. 

The year is about 597 BC. Jerusalem has fallen, and the first wave of exiles has been carried off the Babylon. They’re frightened, displaced, and deeply longing for home.

Just before our reading, we see a rival prophet tell everyone (basically), “Don’t worry! It’ll all be over soon… just two years!”

Then there’s our guy Jeremiah, the prophet who had a habit of telling people the things they didn’t want to hear. He’s not interested in offering comfort. He’s interested in telling the truth. He says to them, “Get comfortable… build houses, plant gardens, seek the welfare of the city.”

Just beyond our passage, Jeremiah tells them they’ll be there 70 years. And when the average life expectancy at the time is likely around 40 years (with the “lucky” ones reaching 50-60), this meant the people he was writing to would never see the end of exile. This is a multi-generational exile.

In fact, archaeologists have found cuneiform tablets from a settlement called Al-Yahudu, which means “City of Judah.” There were hundreds of them, mostly mundane, personal documents, promissory notes, marriage contracts, inheritance division, and receipts. And interestingly, they kept their Judean names.

It’s proof that they did exactly what Jeremiah instructed them to do. They built lives, raised families, and even in a foreign land, they maintained their identity as God’s people.

That historical evidence reminds us that God’s Word isn’t just spiritual, it’s deeply practical. It calls people to live, build, and bless right where they are.

Let’s take a closer look at these words… build, plant, marry, multiply.

These aren’t survival commands, they’re covenantal.

They echo the creation covenant in Genesis, “Be fruitful and multiply.” God is reminding His people of their first responsibility… to be image-bearers and life-givers.

Humanity broke that covenant in Eden, and we’ve been living in exile ever since. But God didn’t abandon His creation story; He kept writing it.

Even in Babylon, He begins to renew that covenant, pointing us toward its fulfillment in Jesus, who restores what was broken and calls us again to be fruitful in His grace.

And how about these words? Seek the welfare of the city…

The seeking is about active pursuit, not passive waiting. And the word for welfare here comes from the word for shalom, which is not just peace, but wholeness, flourishing, and harmony.

God is telling them to pursue shalom. They are not to withdraw from Babylon, but to work for its flourishing. In its shalom, you’ll find your shalom.

You know… I believe that sometimes exile is part of God’s plan, a season where comfort gives way to calling. When life doesn’t go the way we want, God may be shaping us for deeper faithfulness.

Let’s face it, we live in a world we can’t always shape to our liking. Faithfulness means not running from it, but showing up in it… planting, building, and praying for the shalom of those around us.

2 Timothy 2: Faithful Endurance When the Word Seems Chained

Fast forward six hundred years. Now Paul is in prison, writing to Timothy in Ephesus, a young leader facing false teachers, discouragement, pressure to conform, and the temptation to compromise. 

While Timothy struggles, Paul sits chained like a criminal, branded an enemy of the state. In Rome’s eyes, Paul is a failure and a danger to the society they’re trying desperately to preserve. 

Yet Paul sees beyond his circumstances, saying, “But the word of God is not chained.”

His message to Timothy is that they can bind the messenger, but not the message. 

He knows that grace cannot be imprisoned. God’s truth and grace are never confined by circumstance.

That makes anything he might endure worth it. This is bigger than him.

And from that conviction comes his charge to Timothy, a reminder of what truly endures.

His instruction for Timothy starts with, “Remember Jesus Christ.”

The Greek words used here carry this sense of keep on remembering. It’s not a one-time act, but a way of life. 

In our Eucharistic liturgy, we have prayers of anamnesis, memorial prayers that recall Jesus’ death and resurrection. And that word anamnesis isn’t just about remembering, it carries this idea of refusing to forget.

And that’s Paul’s instruction to Timothy. Don’t ever forget the unchained Gospel.

So he continues, saying, “Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead.”

That verb, raised, is perfect tense. So it doesn’t mean was raised, as in a resurrection event that happened at some point in time in the past. It means is raised, as in the present reality we live in. It’s ongoing.

Again, pointing at something bigger than ourselves and our circumstances.

Paul eventually shifts to a message for Timothy’s congregants, telling them to, “avoid wrangling over words.”

I love this. I feel like so much of our society today gets stuck in this space. We seem to have this urge to state our points, and often tell others how wrong they are. 

Paul even explains why he offers this instruction, saying, “[it] does no good but only ruins those who are listening.”

That sounds an awful lot like every single politically charged conversation I’ve ever witnessed on social media, where no one listens and everyone leaves wounded. 

I’ve seen families torn apart over it.

Paul then encourages Timothy to rightly handle the Word of truth. That literally means to cut straight, like a craftsman making a clean line. The task is to handle the Word clearly, faithfully, and without distortion or hostility.

Like Timothy, we live in a culture that rewards noise over truth. 

But our calling is not to wrangle over words. It’s to handle the Word rightly, with integrity and clarity, rooted in the risen Christ whose Word still runs free.

Unchained Grace and Enduring Hope

So here we are. Two very different settings, Babylon and Rome. Yet they carry the same story.

In both, God’s people learn that His purposes are not defeated or defined by exile, imprisonment, or loss of influence. 

Rather, they show us that we’re not exiles of circumstance but image-bearers of a loving God, called to mirror His faithfulness even in hard places.

We see this truth echoed in both of their words.

Jeremiah says, ‘Seek the shalom of the city.’

Paul says, ‘Endure for the sake of others.’

One speaks of gardens, the other of chains. Both about peace and grace that keeps working.

This faithfulness in exile that we’re talking about isn’t about reclaiming power. No. It’s about embodying Grace.

Both prophets remind us that our calling is to remain who we are, even when we feel displaced. 

It isn’t easy. It takes faith and endurance. But not the kind we muster ourselves. It’s about the grace that goes before us into the hard places and follows us out again.

Grace That Precedes and Follows

The exiles of Judah maintained their identity. 

Paul remembered Christ raised. 

We remember too… in our prayers, in our worship, in the way we live… because remembering anchors us in grace.

Every prayer, every Eucharist, every act of service is a way of saying we refuse to forget who we are and Whose we are.

That’s why our Collect today says, ‘Lord, we pray that your grace may always precede and follow us.’ 

That’s the whole sermon in a single line. 

God’s grace goes before us into Babylon, into Rome, into our divided world… and it follows after, redeeming whatever we offer in faith.

No exile, no prison, no cultural storm can chain the Word of God or silence His grace.

Let us pray.

Lord, we pray that your grace may always precede and follow us, that we may continually be given to good works; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Jesus was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.” He said to them, “When you pray, say:

Father, hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come.
Give us each day our daily bread.
And forgive us our sins,
for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.
And do not bring us to the time of trial.”

And he said to them, “Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, `Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.’ And he answers from within, `Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.’ I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs.

“So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a fish? Or if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”

the sermon:

Imagine… After a long, busy day, you settle in to enjoy some dinner and relax for a bit. You spend some time with the family, take the dog for a walk, and get the kids tucked into bed. The house is still, the kids are asleep, and you finally settle in for the night yourself and drift off to sleep. 

Then sometime shortly after you slip into your slumber, there’s a noise that breaks the silence…

[a gentle knock]

But that doesn’t phase you. Then it gets a little louder…

[a little louder knock]

It stirs you enough to wake you, but not enough for you to know exactly what’s happening. So you lay there in bed considering what might be happening and what you might need to do about it. Then the next one gets even louder…

[heavy knock]

And that one wakes the dog up too, and now it’s barking at the noise that intrudes on the peacefulness of the house, which is now gone.

So you get up and go to the door to find out who’s knocking. On your way, you grab your phone to check the Ring camera and see that it’s your neighbor from three houses down.

So you ask through the door, “Hey… what do you need?”

And you hear the response, “Umm… do you have any bread I can borrow?”

Crazy, right?

We’ve gotta ask ourselves, why would Jesus tell this story after teaching His disciples how to pray?

the friend who knocks

In today’s Gospel reading, Luke tells about the disciples asking Jesus how to pray, and He shares what today we call the Lord’s Prayer. And then He launches directly into this wild story, saying something like…

Let’s say you have a friend, and you go to his house after midnight to ask him for some bread because you just had some guests arrive, but you’ve got nothing to share with them.

And Jesus continues, saying…

Your friend responds, “Dude! Go away! Do you realize how late it is? The kids are all asleep and everything is already put away and locked up for the night.”

Then He explains…

But when you think about going back to your guests empty handed, you decide not to just go away, and persist in asking your friend for some bread. And because of your persistence, your friend gets up and gets you some bread to share with your guests.

In this story, the man didn’t get what he needed because of friendship, but because he kept knocking.

The word that Luke uses here to describe this persistence is anaideia (an-nah-ee-die-ah), which more accurately means shameless persistence. It carries this idea of a bold tenacity that refuses to shrink back for fear of shame.

In the person who’s knocking, there’s no stopping until they get what they need.

It’s kinda like when I’m at the grocery store, and I’m not seeing what my wife sent me there to get. So I text her for clarity or other options (because I want to make sure I get the right stuff).

But she doesn’t respond. So I send another text with the pointing up hand emoji to make her phone alert again, directing her to my previous text. 

And still no response. So maybe now it’s a phone call, which she doesn’t answer. I know she’s home, so I keep trying until I get through.

Long story short… I’m blowing up that phone until I get what’s needed.

Jesus’s invitation: keep asking, keep knocking

After sharing this story, Jesus says something amazing…

“So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.”

And here’s the really cool thing about this statement…

The verbs used here in the Greek are present imperative tense, which means they aren’t just one-time actions.

It’s not, “ask once.” It’s, “keep asking.”

It’s not, “seek once.” It’s, “keep seeking.”

It’s not, “knock once.” It’s, “keep knocking.”

Listen… Jesus is inviting us into a persistent pursuit, the kind of prayer that doesn’t give up when we don’t get an answer right away.

That’s something that resonates deeply for me, personally. 

As some of you know, I’ve felt called to ordained ministry for over 20 years. And I’ve prayed fervently for a lot of that time for something to break through in this area of my life. Now I stand before you, ordained, and feeling more fulfilled in ministry than I ever have in my life. 

It’s not about just praying once for something and expecting a breakthrough. It’s about building a lifestyle of dependence and trust. 

It’s about hunger, desire, and persistence.

Jesus is challenging us to live like we actually believe in God’s generosity and love for us.

a tale of two prayers

A few chapters later in his Gospel, Luke tells us another parable of Jesus about the prayers of two men. One was a Pharisee and the other a tax collector who both went to the temple to pray.

The Pharisee prayed like this…

“God, thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.”

But the tax collector stood further off, not even looking up towards heaven, beating his chest, praying…

“God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”

One of these men was concerned with performance, the other his brokenness.

One of them was filled with religious ego, the other with a raw and humble honesty.

Notice that it wasn’t just the tax collectors words, but even his posture and actions reflected his attitude.

Throughout the Scriptures, people didn’t just say they were sorry. They showed it with their whole bodies. Sackcloth and ashes, tears, and beating the chest were all ways of saying, “I am broken, and I need God.”

That same spirit continues today in small practices you see during the liturgy of the Eucharist. When we get to the Breaking of the Bread, we often recite the Agnus Dei (AH-noos DAY-ee) with a light strike of the fist on the chest, saying…

Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, grant us peace.

This is a way of stepping into that same ancient posture of repentance and longing for mercy. It reflects the passion that should mark our prayers.

the Father behind the door

And when we come knocking on the door in this way, we need to understand who it is behind that door. 

God’s not a reluctant neighbor. He’s a loving Father who delights in giving good gifts. 

Jesus continues by saying,

“Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead…? Or if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion? If you … know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”

First, you need to understand that He’s there, expecting your arrival, ready and waiting for you. 

It’s like if you’re coming over to my house, and I’m expecting you, then before you arrive, I’m most likely already sitting in a chair in our front room waiting to greet and welcome you. If you’re that guest, you can confidently know that I’m there already waiting to open that door when you knock.

The other thing I want to recognize here is that the “good gift” of the Father is the Holy Spirit. I may come knocking thinking that I need something specific, but what I get when I arrive is His presence… which is what I need. 

The gift of the Holy Spirit is what brings the peace and healing and wisdom and strength for any circumstance that I might be going through.

God doesn’t just fix your problem from afar. He walks with you in it.

When you have the Spirit, you find that you have everything you truly need.

teach us to pray

Here’s the part that I really love. 

If we go back to the beginning of this passage, we see the disciples wanting to learn from the Son of God how to pray.

So Jesus gives them the Lord’s Prayer, which is a model for prayer, a specific prayer form, and even a summary of Christian life and discipleship.

But then He launches into this master class on how we should pray, with this shameless persistence marked by dependence and trust.

Even in each petition for things like bread (hmmm… the very thing the neighbor knocking after midnight was asking for), forgiveness, and guidance all require real trust and hunger.

When we pray the Lord’s Prayer during the liturgy, I get it… It’s really easy to just rattle off the words mindlessly.

But when we pray, we should make it personal and pray as though we really need what we’re asking for.

final thoughts: the door will be opened

So maybe today… you’ve been knocking for a while, and you’re wondering if God even hears it.

Or maybe you stopped knocking altogether.

What if Jesus is reminding you right now that the door is still there… and the Father is still on the other side, waiting?

You don’t have to say the perfect prayer. You don’t have to bring anything but your honest self.

Come boldly, come persistently, come humbly… but just come.

Because the door will be opened. And the One behind it isn’t annoyed or tired or indifferent. He’s a good Father who delights in giving His Spirit, His presence, to those who ask.

So, may we go today with confidence to keep asking, to keep seeking, and to keep knocking. May the Spirit of God fill us with persistence in prayer, trust in His goodness, and joy in His presence.

And may the door be opened wide.

It seems like when we think about the Ten Commandments, we think of a list of rules that we’re supposed to follow. Some may look at them as the guide for how to be a good person, which then gets us into Heaven (it’s actually not about that, but that’s another conversation). But when you dig into what’s going on in these several verses, you start to see something wonderful happening. It points us to Hope, and gives us a model for how to get along in this world.

So let’s take a look at them! You can find them in Exodus 20:1–17 and Deuteronomy 5:6–21.

And in the spirit of the Catechism, we’re not just looking at the questions and relying on an absolute answer. The Catechism is meant to be the start of a conversation. So as I share the questions and answers from this section, I’m also sharing some of my own thoughts and ideas that have come up in recent conversations.

What are the Ten Commandments?

The Ten Commandments are the laws given to Moses and the people of Israel.

This one seems simple, but it’s a fun one to play around with. On the surface it’s pretty straight forward. Until you wrestle with it and ask other questions about what certain parts of this statement is saying. First, I like to look at the history that’s going on here. When were these laws given? It was while they were in the wilderness after their exodus from Egypt. The Israelite people were there for hundreds of years, most of that time as slaves. While they maintained a “family” identity, they were immersed for several generations in the Egyptian culture. So coming out of that, God needed to help them establish a way of life that was different than that of the Egyptian culture they were familiar with. So these laws helped to distinguish them from the rest of the world. They were to live different as God’s chosen people, just as we are to live different too.

And the story of how they got these laws is pretty crazy too. Moses goes up on the mountain, the people get tired of waiting, so they make themselves a golden cow to worship (just like what would have been normal back in Egypt). Then, when Moses comes down with the tablets of the commandments, he sees what’s happened, and smashes the tablets on the ground in anger and frustration. So then he has to go back up the mountain to get a new set of the tablets. God is actively guiding them into how to be different, and the people continue to show how hard it is for them to shake the ways of the world!

Another question I ponder with this one is this… Were the Ten Commandments only rules for the Israelites, or where they universal truths for the whole world? We see in the Scriptures and in this response in the Catechism that they were given to Moses and the Israelite people. But they reflect more about God, His character, and His principles for right living than they do a set of limited rules for one group. But they were given to these people to set them apart and shows God’s way of living to the rest of the world.

What do we learn from these commandments?

We learn two things: our duty to God, and our duty to our neighbors.

This one does feel a little more straightforward. But two tablets cover two primary duties. And it fits with what we see Jesus responding with when asked by the religious leaders of His day about which was the greatest commandment. And His response was His Summary of the Law…

“The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” — Mark 12:29-31

Jesus’ response aligned with these two duties we get on these two tablets of laws. So when Jesus brought that out, it wasn’t a new thing. It’s the way it’s always been.

What is our duty to God?

Our duty is to believe and trust in God;

I To love and obey God and to bring others to know him;
II To put nothing in the place of God;
III To show God respect in thought, word, and deed;
IV And to set aside regular times for worship, prayer, and the study of God’s ways.

There are a few things that stand out in the duties we get from these first four commandments. And one of the first things I notice is that in #1, we are not only to love and obey, but also to bring others to know Him. There’s a natural evangelistic nature to this relationship. But when I think about that, it makes a lot of sense. In my life, I get married because I love my wife. And since that relationship has developed, I want to bring her along so that other people in my life get to experience us together. I want people to know her and the role she plays in my life. So I’m not going to say I love her, and then keep her locked away in the house where no one else can ever interact with her. It’s the same with my kids. I love them, and therefore I want people to know them and see how awesome they are. And it’s the same with God. When we establish and develop that relationship, we should want other people to experience Him too!

The other big things that I see in here are the echoes I see in this in things like the liturgy at church. The idea of showing God respect in thought, word, and deed starts to show up in the confession we pray every week in the Episcopal/Anglican liturgy. And the setting side of time for worship, prayer, and study is something that we see in the commitments in our Baptismal Covenant. And I could certainly dig deeper on this, but I think it’s amazing how the liturgy has been designed to bring us to a place of worship that honors the way God tells us that we can/should relate to Him.

What is our duty to our neighbors?

Our duty to our neighbors is to love them as ourselves, and to do to other people as we wish them to do to us;

V To love, honor, and help our parents and family; to honor those in authority, and to meet their just demands;
VI To show respect for the life God has given us; to work and pray for peace; to bear no malice, prejudice, or hatred in our hearts; and to be kind to all the creatures of God;
VII To use our bodily desires as God intended;
VIII To be honest and fair in our dealings; to seek justice, freedom, and the necessities of life for all people; and to use our talents and possessions as ones who must answer for them to God;
IX To speak the truth, and not to mislead others by our silence;
X To resist temptations to envy, greed, and jealousy; to rejoice in other people’s gifts and graces; and to do our duty for the love of God, who has called us into fellowship with him.

There’s certainly a lot that we can unpack in this one. So instead of breaking down each of the commandments, I like to look at overall trends and themes in this group.

The quick answer is that we’re supposed to treat people well. But it goes a lot deeper than that. The Baptismal Covenant has these two commitments that we make that seem relevant here:

• Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? I will, with God’s help.
• Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being? I will, with God’s help.

And this is exactly what this group of Commandments is about. It’s about loving and serving people. It’s about making things right (justice). It’s about striving for peace. It’s about treating people with dignity and respect. This is far more than be nice and treat people good (as long as they treat us good first).

This second group of Commandments is about making the well-being of other people our mission.

And it’s not just about the things that we do. We’re also accountable for the things we don’t do. Part of being the kind of person we’re called to be means that when we see something wrong happening, we don’t just turn a blind eye and do nothing.

We have a responsibility to care for one another. And that makes a lot of sense. I know that I need other people in my life. And I know that I have a positive impact on some of the people around me. The truth is that we need each other. And it works best when we know what this kind of relationship should look like.

What is the purpose of the Ten Commandments?

The Ten Commandments were given to define our relationship with God and our neighbors.

There’s not a lot more to say here than what’s already been said about each of the two groups of Commandments separately. But I will say this… It’s helpful (at least for me) to review these guidelines for living to help me see where I’m at with all of this. I know that I’m not always perfect. And knowing these and being reminded regularly serves as a great guide for Christian living.

That’s one of the things that I love about the liturgies (of the Episcopal Church). These things are built into so many elements of what we pray and how we worship. And it’s not in the form of condemnation. But at every turn, there’s something that points us back to how we should live that finds its roots in these Commandments.

Since we do not fully obey them, are they useful at all?

 Since we do not fully obey them, we see more clearly our sin and our need for redemption.

I don’t know about you, but I cannot live up to these standards. I can most of them right most of the time. But then there’s that time when somebody does something that just ticks me off, and then I don’t think nice thoughts about them. Boom… sin. And I could probably point out times where I’ve messed up in every once of these 10 Commandments at some level. Sometimes, it’s just because I’m being self-centered and ignoring the needs of someone else over my own “peace and comfort.”

And that’s sin. We all fall short. This is an impossible standard.

So no matter how good I like to think I can be, I still fall short. And that’s why I need Jesus.

It seems that this is one of the purposes of the Ten Commandments, that we recognize our need for a Savior. The good news is that we have a Savior, and he’s the only One who has ever lived up to these standards. The Scriptures tell us that He was sinless. So He’s earned the right to be able to stand up for us in our sin. And it makes Him a pretty good example to try to follow as we strive to live up to these standards.

Nonetheless, thank you God for the redemption we receive when we fall short.

Final Thoughts on the Ten Commandments

What I love most about all of this is that it’s usually easy to just buss through the Ten Commandments as a list of rules that we’re supposed to follow. But when I study (and discuss) them in this way, I find so much Life in there! These aren’t just mere rules that gives God a reason to smite us when we don’t follow them. And it’s not just a guide on how to be a “good person.” Rather, these are the words of Life from our Lord and Savior!

I’ll leave this one with a little bit of Psalm 119 (which makes a lot more sense now):

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.

v. 1-8 (NIV)

Our problem is that too often we let ourselves get wrapped up in the chaos of life. Then we’re easy to get distracted by things that seem important, but really aren’t. And then we live in this place where there’s a lack of stability. So what we need is a stabilizing force. We need something to calm the storms so that we can better navigate our days.

The good news is that there are habits and practices that we can build into our lives that bring this stability. We find it in routines that connect us more with God (our source of life) and the people in our lives (who navigate this life with us). We call these practices a Rule of Life.

What Is a Rule of Life?

In order to truly understand the practice of a Rule of Life, we should go back to the 6th century to look at St. Benedict of Nursia. He was a Christian monk, following the practices of earlier monastics like the Desert Fathers and the Post-Nicene Fathers. And he wrote what we refer to as the Rule of Benedict, a guide for monastic communities to help them establish order, balance prayer and work, and enhance spiritual growth.

Benedict believed that living a life dedicated to Christ required us to live a certain way. In his Rule, he writes:

“Now, brethren, that we have asked the Lord who it is that shall dwell in His tabernacle, we have heard the conditions for dwelling there; and if we fulfil the duties of tenants, we shall be heirs of the kingdom of heaven. Our hearts and our bodies must, therefore, be ready to do battle under the biddings of holy obedience; and let us ask the Lord that He supply by the help of His grace what is impossible to us by nature. And if, flying from the pains of hell, we desire to reach life everlasting, then, while there is yet time, and we are still in the flesh, and are able during the present life to fulfil all these things, we must make haste to do now what will profit us forever.”

For Benedict, the routines he set forth on paper were essential to the monastic life. Fifteen-hundred years later, Benedictine monks still follow these rules as a guide that shapes their prayer, work, and interaction with the community.

These rules continue in segments of the church in a variety of ways. The Rule requires monks and nuns to pray eight times every day at various times. Episcopal/Anglican practices have fewer set prayer times in the Book of Common Prayer, such as Morning, Evening, and Compline Prayer (plus some other optional forms). These practices have Benedict’s Rule as their original foundation.

The Rule, however, isn’t only about prayer. It covers many aspects of how we live our lives. And I’m not suggesting that we all follow Benedict’s Rule to the letter (but it is a really good read). What I am suggesting, though, is the importance of having a Rule of Life that guides our own relationship with God and each other, our work, our ministry, our family, and really just about everything in our lives.

And this isn’t intended to be a legalistic tension in your life. Rather a guide to give you structure and direction and purpose in everything you do. It’s not about guilt. It’s about guidance.

Why Structure Helps the Soul

Mental health experts confirm that routines reduce anxiety and decision fatigue. It’s about establishing and maintaining routines. The rhythms help us achieve mental clarity and relive stress in our lives by:

• Providing structure and predictability – This brings a sense of control when life can feel chaotic and out of control. This helps reduce anxiety by creating a more predictable and manageable environment.
• Conserving mental energy – When the routines become habits, it frees up mental resources. This allows you to focus on more important things that require more mental effort. But you’re not being dragged down by other mental clutter.
• Supporting healthy habits – The routines can help you prioritize good self-care habits, both physically and mentally. Having routines related to sleep, healthy eating, exercise, and mindfulness can all contribute to overall well-being.

While this isn’t an exhaustive list, there are several types of routines to consider that can have an impact:

• Consistent sleep-wake schedule – Having a consistent bed time and wake-up time helps your body regulate and improves the quality of your sleep, which is crucial for your mental health.
• Morning routines – Starting your mornings in the same way can reduce overwhelm. Work in things like hydration, stretching, prayer, and breakfast, and don’t let those routines get derailed!
• Exercise habits – Having regular physical activity as part of your routines can boost your mood and reduce stress.
• Prayer and meditative practices – Working in the Daily Office (Morning and Evening Prayer) or some other devotional activity into your routine can set your focus on a strong foundation that impacts everything else in your day.
• Sabbath rest – Having a set routine for downtime and rest is just as important as accomplishing everything else on your task list. Schedule the time on a regular basis and stick to that plan. It’ll give you something to look forward to.
• Digital boundaries – We’ve explored the overwhelming impact of too much digital immersion in this series. Set boundaries for yourself, and monitor your activity to avoid the overwhelm.
• Evening wind-down routine – Look at what you’re doing before you try to go to sleep, and explore better (and healthier) ways to wind yourself down. You’ll sleep much better.

Imagine this… You go to bed at night and can’t sleep after a stressful day at work. So you lay there in bed and doom scroll on your phone for hours. The blue-light from your phone screen stimulates brain activity, but your body eventually drifts off from pure exhaustion. So you sleep restlessly through the rest of the night. When that alarm clock goes off in the morning, you already feel beat up, physically and mentally. You roll out of bed, hit the bathroom, brush your teeth, and head to the kitchen to get breakfast (because you’re starving). But then you see the dirty dishes from last night all over the place, because you were too stressed to deal with them before you went to bed. So out of frustration, you avoid breakfast in order to clean up the kitchen first. Finishing that up, you now look to get something to eat, but then look at the clock… Dang it! You don’t have time for breakfast, or you’ll be late for work! So you rush out the door, tired, hungry, and frustrated.

Ever been there? Yep, me too.

Does that end up in a good day at work? Nope… And only further adding to the stress you’re carrying.

Having a Rule of Life that includes some of the things listed here can definitely change all of that. Rules like evening wind-down and prayer routines, digital boundaries, and making sure you stick to the morning routines can result in your whole mental state going into work is completely different.

That’s what having a Rule of Life can do for you. And remember, it’s not about adding stress. It’s about creating the routines in your life that will make your life better by focusing on the important things in your prayer, work, and relationships with others (pretty much like what St. Benedict was trying to do).

Theological Foundations of a Rule of Life

While our modern understanding of the Rule of Life comes primarily from the Rule of St. Benedict, there’s substantial biblical precedent for creating intentional rhythms.

In Genesis 1, we see God bringing order out of chaos (Genesis 1:2). In the beginning, the earth was formless and void. Then God establishes a pattern of intentional and rhythmic creation:

• Day and night
• Sea and land
• Seasons, stars, and living things
• A time of Sabbath rest

Each day begins with “And God said…” and ends with “And there was evening and there was morning…” There’s a poetic symmetry to it, and it shows the very nature of God himself in the rhythms. God doesn’t create in random chaos (like what our lives can often feel like). He’s deliberate and intentional. And being created in His image, our lives work best when we embrace the holy rhythms of work, worship, and rest.

In Ecclesiastes 3, we see that there are times for everything. In this book, considered one of the Wisdom books of the Bible, we see a poetic reflection on the God-ordained rhythms of life:

• A time to plant and a time to uproot
• A time to weep and a time to laugh
• A time to keep silence and a time to speak

There’s an important spiritual truth in this. Life has a cadence. God doesn’t expect us to push and be in harvest mode all the time. Even things like sorrow, stillness, and pruning have their season. And each is sacred. When we create space for prayer, rest, and work, we’re aligning with the natural rhythms God built into His Creation. And we learn to honor the use of time in our lives.

God is the One who created time, and He called it good. We function better when we live in step with these sacred rhythms.

This is something that Jesus, God in the flesh, understood well. When we look at how He lived His life in the Gospels, we don’t only see powerful miracles and teachings. We also see an intentional rhythm of life. Jesus moved with a holy cadence that reflected a deep connection with the Father and a compassionate presence with others. Here are a few ways Jesus modeled a Rule of Life:

• Prayer and Solitude – Jesus regularly withdrew…
  • Before making major decisions (Luke 6:12)
  • After intense ministry (Luke 5:15-16)
  • To grieve (Matthew 14:13)
• Rest and Sabbath – He challenged legalistic understanding of the Sabbath, but never rejected rest…
  • Took time away with his disciples (Mark 6:31)
  • Welcomes quiet meals and hospitality (Luke 10:38-42)
  • Slept through storms (Mark 4:38)

Jesus took time away from all the noise to center Himself in prayer. And He always ensured that there was margin for rest. Maintaining a life of balance and clarity were crucial to helping Him live more fully. Through Jesus, we see that keeping a Rule of Life helps us build boundaries for meaningful service without burnout.

Being effective in our life, work, and ministry isn’t about being more productive. It’s about balance and being present. When we imitate the pace Jesus modeled, we make space for wholeness.

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest… learn from me… and you will find rest for your souls.”
— Matthew 11:28–29

Crafting Your Own Rule of Life

Creating your own Rule of Life isn’t about adding more to your already busy schedule. Nor is it about setting up an impossible standard that you need to live up to. It’s really just about identifying some things that are important and having a plan to help you prioritize doing those things.

For example, it might be setting aside some Sabbath rest time once per week, even if it’s just a few hours one evening to just unplug from everything and catch your breath. Or it might be something like getting up 20 minutes earlier to spend a little time doing some morning prayer and a short time in the word. And that might even be easier if you start to disconnect (and stay off devices) for at least 30 minutes before you go to bed (at a reasonable hour).

There’s not really a wrong way to set this up. But your goal should be to focus on the things that will help you grow closer to God and other people.

When working on your own Rule of Life, here are some categories for you to consider:

• Prayer & Scripture – Consider doing Morning/Evening Prayer (using the Venite app: Apple | Google), which combines Scripture readings with prayer. There are also many other ancient practices like Lectio Divina and Examen Prayer that you might find useful. Or simply commit to using an devotional book/guide that you find interesting. The key here is to dedicate a little time daily to being in the Word and in prayer.
• Work & Rest – Start each workday with a short prayer. And commit to reflecting on the work you do. What parts are life-giving and what parts are draining? How can you address your feelings on this? Also consider how you work Sabbath rest time into your schedule. If you can take one day per week to unplug from everything and focus on restoration, that would be ideal. But that’s not always realistic for everyone. If not, then where can you work in even shorter blocks of time to withdraw and rest?
• Relationships – Think about family time. Even if it’s just once per week, can you work in a family meal together (with no devices at the table)? Maybe you plan a regular family activity, or a date night, or both. Also consider friendships. Is there someone you want to connect with regularly, maybe for a cup of coffee? Set regular time to connect with someone who you can pour into and who can pour into you.
• Health (mental/physical) – This is where you can evaluate things like your sleep habits, your eating, and your exercise routines. All of these things can have a significant impact on your physical health and your mental health. And specific to your mental health, consider doing some regular journaling to work out things you’re experiencing. Also, consider whether it might be helpful to meet with a therapist or a spiritual director (regularly or as needed).
• Service & Stewardship – What are you doing to give to your community? Not just financially, but also maybe with your time. Are there ways you can commit to serving in the church or in your community?

I know that this looks like it could be a lot. And if you tried to develop a Rule of Life that covered as many things as you could possibly think of in each of these categories, it would be overwhelming! So start small. It’s not meant to be a burden. Find a couple ways that you feel might have a good impact on your life and start practicing them.

And know that this can shift and adapt to different seasons in your life. It might change because in the devotional time you take on, you feel like God is calling you to work more with some ministry in the church. When something like that happens, adjust your Rule of Life to work it out.

The key is to find the rhythms that work for you and that will have the impact you’re looking for. And then do your best to make it a habit.

Final Thoughts on the Rule of Life and Mental Clarity

It’s easy to get wrapped up in all the stresses of life. And it’s just as easy to let that stuff snowball on us and turn into bigger stresses. To make it worse, we also have a tendency to not focus on self-care as much as we should. We have screens glued to our faces too much, we don’t get enough sleep, we don’t get enough “together time” with loved ones, and this list can go on and on.

To make matters worse, Barna Group research shows that two-thirds of Americans don’t read the Bible (the life-giving Word of God) at least once per week. And half of all people read it less than twice per year!

No wonder mental health issues are on the rise, with many experts saying that it’s one of the most serious epidemics in our society today.

St. Benedict was on to something when set out to establish order, balance prayer and work, and enhance spiritual growth. The great wisdom in the establishment of his Rule is that aligns with how we’re designed by our Creator.

In creating our own Rule of Life, we can experience better sleep, less stress, and greater spiritual focus. It’s a practice that will lead us into greater joy and freedom, and living more fully into the calling and purpose He’s planned for us.

Your challenge in this is to spend a little time to start on developing your own Rule of Life. Start small, but think about what can have a big impact. Maybe you start with just one or two things. The important part is that you start somewhere. Try it for a month. And then spend a little time reflecting on how it’s going. Feel free to make adjustments to make it work better for you. And then add to it as it makes sense.

My prayer for you is that the Holy Spirit would be present in whatever you decide to do. May you find a time of refreshment and stability and full of purpose. And may you grow closer to God and hear His voice better, and grow closer to the people around you. Amen.

It’s not just about getting something off your chest. It’s about walking through a process that’s designed to heal and strengthen you. In fact, we see in Matthew 11:28 that it’s Christ’s intention to refresh us. And we’ll talk about that verse in a minute, but I once wrote a reflection on a study on this passage,

He will refresh us. The Greek word here is anapauo, which means, “to cause or permit one to cease from any movement or labor in order to recover and collect his/her strength.” It’s not enough to Jesus that we’re able to just drop the weight. He wants to restore us to full strength. He wants a complete recovery.

That’s the ultimate goal when we seek healing through confession. It should be an experience that kicks against all of the guilt and shame we carry, releasing us into a life of freedom and peace.

The Weight of Unnamed Wounds

Guilt and shame are the worst.

Even when what we’re dealing with isn’t our own fault, many of us still carry guilt and shame as if it were. We beat ourselves up over what we should have done (or not done). And we carry the pain of it with us into almost everything else we do (not to mention the relationships we have with others). We take these “shortcomings” and turn them into our identity.

I know a young man who struggles with this, and it’s sad to watch him beat himself up over things. Anytime he needs correction or redirection on something, it’s quick to turn into, “Why do I always do that?! I’m just a stupid [insert a variety of self-deprecating names]!” Even when it’s a simple, mostly harmless trigger, shame turns it into an identity that he feels like he can’t shake.

We all deal with that in varying degrees. When I hit financial bumps in my life, I tend to feel like I’m a failure to my family, ultimately wrestling with the shame of not being a better provider. And it can be crippling, even in other areas of my life. It’s difficult to talk to others about, because that somehow makes it feel more shameful. So it stays silently stuffed away, which can have worse effects over the long-term.

The hidden brokenness we carry can manifest as anxiety, depression, and spiritual fatigue. There’s even a great deal of research showing that it even impacts our physical well-being.

In his book, The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma, Bessel van der Kolk M.D. shares in great detail that traumatic experiences in our lives have a great deal of impact on our mind and body (and proposes a way through to healing). In it, he mentions:

“The greatest sources of our suffering are the lies we tell ourselves.”

These lies can come in all forms, but often they’re these negative “tapes” we play over and over in our heads about how bad we are. We think of all the ways we’ve failed… ourselves and the people around us. And the fact that we’re not talking about these feelings to anyone makes it even worse. Dr. van der Kolk continues,

“As long as you keep secrets and suppress information, you are fundamentally at war with yourself…The critical issue is allowing yourself to know what you know. That takes an enormous amount of courage.”

In other words, the path to healing starts with recognizing the feelings that we’re struggling with and to begin moving towards a place where we can let it out. Dr. van der Kolk speaks to this process of coming to be at peace with these feelings,

“Neuroscience research shows that the only way we can change the way we feel is by becoming aware of our inner experience and learning to befriend what is going inside ourselves.”

In liturgical worship, it’s the Confession of Sin (Book of Common Prayer, p. 331 & 360) that drives us to opening up and speaking out our shortcomings, the things we often carry so much guilt and shame over.

In full disclosure, the Journal of Religion and Health had published some studies about confessional prayer and mental wellness, and the results weren’t entirely conclusive. It did show that confessional prayer was related to increased emotional well-being, but decreased psychological well-being. This really indicates that it’s not as simple as, “confess your sins and you’ll be all better.” It’s a little more complex than that.

And that’s why I believe it’s important to explore several elements in the liturgical confession, and not just limit this conversation to confessional prayer. All of these elements together guide us to a better healing place as it relates to the stuffed-down junk we carry that beats us down. In it’s entirety, the liturgical confession process kicks guilt and shame out of our lives.

Ancient Words That Still Speak

The Confession of Sin has been said in Anglican/Episcopal liturgies since at least the 1600’s, not long after the Reformation. This confession can be found not only in The Holy Eucharist liturgy, but also in Morning and Evening Prayer. It’s recited by all congregants together as a collective confession. It starts with a Deacon or Celebrant saying (using the Rite II language),

Let us confess our sins against God and our neighbor.

This is often followed by a short moment of silence when individuals can reflect on the sin in their lives. And then everyone together says,

Most merciful God,
we confess that we have sinned against you
in thought, word, and deed,
by what we have done,
and by what we have left undone.
We have not loved you with our whole heart;
we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.
We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.
For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ,
have mercy on us and forgive us;
that we may delight in your will,
and walk in your ways,
to the glory of your Name. Amen.

The first thing worth noting here is that this is a group confession. As mentioned in Healing Through Liturgy, this is something we do together. We live in the power of we. There’s peace in the idea that we’re not alone, especially in our sin. Even our individual sin is not something we need to carry by ourselves. Additionally, you are not the only one struggling here. We’ve all fallen short. And not just individually, but collectively as a group we’ve fallen short together.

Honestly, I could write an entire book about this confessional prayer (and maybe I will, someday). But let’s take a look at just a few key elements as they relate to finding peace in ourselves through this confession.

“In thought, word, and deed”… This is a holistic self-examination. It’s not about the the things we did, but also the words we’ve said, and the thoughts we’ve had. It’s about examining every part of our being. There’s no stone left unturned as we look into our lives as we ask for forgiveness.

“By what we have done and left undone”… Often the shame and guilt we carry is related not to the things we’ve done, but the things we haven’t. Sometimes it’s our inaction that beats us up. Like when we see something happen that we know is wrong, but then don’t do or say anything about it. Our confessional prayer again covers every possibility, leaving no place for guilt or shame to take root.

“We are truly sorry and we humbly repent”… This brings us to God Himself, asking for forgiveness. And from a place of humility, we express our desire to turn from these things. We desire to be released from the weight of our shortcomings, and promise to try to move in the right direction.

In his paper, The Healing Power of the Liturgy, Adam Couchman, Lecturer in Liturgy and Theology at St. Francis College, explores how confession of our sins in the liturgy can be healing, saying:

“Naming our sins out loud within the context of community is not a shaming but a freeing act—it reminds us we’re not defined by what we’ve done, but by the mercy of God.”

And this is really just the first step in the process.

Absolution as Psychological Release

After the people have confessed, the Priest (or Bishop) stands, facing the congregation, and says,

Almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you all your sins through our Lord Jesus Christ, strengthen you in all goodness, and by the power of the Holy Spirit keep you in eternal life. Amen.

There are three things going on in this absolution that I find amazing: mercy, forgiveness, and strength.

First, the priest proclaims that God would have mercy on you. When I think of that word mercy, I think about when I was a kid wrestling with other kids in the yard. And when someone has you beat, you shout, “Mercy!” And they give you that mercy by letting you go from whatever hold they have you in. There’s an interesting parallel here that I can’t shake. It seems like when our sin has us all locked up in a choke-hold, God essentially snaps His finger and releases us from that grip. Hearing that God is granting us mercy during this absolution feels much like that release, allowing me to move again, free from entanglement.

Then the priest proclaims forgiveness of our sins through Jesus Christ, our Lord. The best way I feel I can break this one down is by exploring the idea of consequences. I tell my kids all the time that there are always consequences for their actions. If they’re playing catch outside and throw a baseball through our neighbor’s window, there’s a consequence. Even if it was purely an accident, that window is still broken by their actions, and it needs to get fixed. The moment they realize the cost, their hearts sink, knowing that there’s no way they can afford it themselves. Forgiveness is like that when Jesus steps in and says, “I’ve got this one covered. There’s no other debt to pay.”

And the third thing the priest proclaims is that we be strengthened. If we are to move forward from the damage of our sinful actions, we need strength to do better. Where the first to elements of this absolution are more about release, this one is about empowerment and building us up. And it’s not something we’re sent off to do alone. We’re sent off with the presence of the Holy Spirit, a reminder that we’re never alone.

Couchman also shares this insight:

“Liturgical confession places the penitent in a posture to receive grace visibly and audibly—a sacramental act that heals the psyche as well as the soul.”

And it’s in this absolution that we we start to receive this grace. There’s this sense of feeling heard in our confession, as we lay out all of our shortcomings. And then it’s immediately followed by this act of being cleansed and built up. This part of the process hits directly at the internalized shame that we carry, and rebuilds us as the new creation in Christ that we’re intended to be.

The Four Comfortable Words

There’s this piece in the Rite I liturgy that isn’t in the Rite II liturgy (but I wish it was). It’s commonly referred to as the 4 Comfortable Words. But before we even talk about them, there’s a little history here that’s helpful to understanding how they fit in all of this (and how it impacts mental health).

Back in the Middle Ages, one of the things that lead to the whole Reformation movement had to do with taking on the growing corruption and abuse that was happening in the Catholic Church. Mass was recited entirely in Latin, a language common people didn’t understand. Nobody had the Scriptures written in their own language, so the people had to rely on what they were told that it said. And power-hungry leaders used scare-tactics to control the people, ultimately to fill their coffers.

Even the artwork in churches displayed visual messages intended to send a message to the people to help keep them in line. That’s where we start to see what’s referred to as “doom paintings” in churches. They tend to depict scenes related to the Last Judgement, with Jesus floating in the air and directing some into Heaven while pointing others to Hell. And while they can be beautiful paintings, they still send a message to the people who cannot read the Scriptures for themselves, and just sat through a mass in a language they don’t understand. And the message was clear, stay in line or you’ll end up getting send into the mouth of the evil monster!

The Doom Painting of St. Thomas’s Church, Salisbury

Catholic clergy of that time would then take any opportunity they could to exert their control over the people. So when they demanded payment for indulgences and sacramental rites, the people would just give in (or walk away broken because they couldn’t afford it).

It was this kind of abuse that led to the Reformation. Thank the Lord there were clergy who recognized that this kind of behavior by the Church just wasn’t right, and took a stand to correct it. (Note: The Catholic Church doesn’t operate this way today, but some still claim the legacy of guilt persists.)

In England, one of the people who helped correct course with this was Thomas Cranmer, who among other things wrote the English Book of Common Prayer. In the liturgies he wrote, he wanted to speak directly to the freedom we find in the actual person of Jesus Christ. After the confession, and the absolution, he inserted four Bible verses to remind us of this. It reads like this:

Hear the Word of God to all who truly turn to him.

“Come unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you.”  Matthew 11:28

“God so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, to the end that all that believe in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”  John 3:16

“This is a true saying, and worthy of all men to be received, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” 1 Timothy 1:15

“If any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and he is the perfect offering for our sins, and not for ours only, but for the sins of the whole world.”  1 John 2:1-2

The intention was to remind us of exactly who God is (and it’s not the one directing us into the mouth of the beast). Again, we could spend a long time studying these four passages, but let’s just summarize what’s happening here:

• “Come unto me…” (Matt 11:28) – Jesus invites the weary. Feel beaten down by the constant wrestling with our own sins? Jesus is here to refresh you and restore you to full strength!
• “God so loved the world…” (John 3:16) – There is divine love and mercy. God Himself came for you to set you free!
• “This is a true saying…” (1 Tim 1:15) – Jesus came to save sinners. That’s you. That’s me. That’s all of us. And even though we know that the wages of sin is death, we also know that He came to rescue us from that.
• “If anyone sins…” (1 John 2:1–2) – Jesus is our advocate, freeing us from any of the charges that could be held against us!

What I really love about this is the progression. We come to confess and lay out our sins before God, we receive absolution for those sins, and then we’re instantly reminded of the true (and amazing) character of the God who loves us and gave Himself to save us. Even in the Rite II, when these four verses aren’t read, I make a conscious effort to remember them for a moment because of how much it completes a cycle of healing for me.

Healing Through Confession

Thinking back to the one study with mixed results related to confessional prayer, it’s easy to see how it can be a complex issue. My questions around such findings would relate to the extent of the prayers being offered and whether it follows a liturgical flow that offers deep mental and emotional healing as the liturgy does.

And it makes sense that this liturgical confession is build into the liturgies for not only the Eucharist, but also the Daily Office (Morning and Evening Prayer). It’s something that we should be able to process regularly. We need that constant reminder of mercy and grace in our daily brokenness.

Neuroscience is catching on to the power of vocalizing our pain. I believe it might be a UCLA study that essentially cites that, “Naming it tames it.” The idea is that it’s when we find the strength and courage to speak the things we struggle with out loud is when we can start having victory over it. Keeping it silently stuffed away will only allow it to continue to eat us from the inside.

And that’s the thing with confession. Confession isn’t about condemnation, it’s about liberation.

When we start taking on our hidden struggles through a process that invites freedom and strength, we can truly start to find healing through confession.

Final Thoughts on Embracing Healing Through Confession

Next time you’re in (and Anglican/Episcopal) church, approach the confession with intention. Dig into your own heart regarding the things that need to be released. And then speak out the word of the confessional prayer, taking ownership, but also remembering that you’re not alone in that prayer. Soak up the absolution. Imagine yourself actually catching the three big elements that come your way in that prayer. And then ponder the person of Christ and what it means to you. When you do all of this, you should feel lighter. The weight of sin should fall off of you like water on a duck’s back.

I’d encourage you to spend some time meditating on the words of the confession, absolution, and the 4 Comfortable Words during the week. If you pray the Daily Office (from the Book of Common Prayer), you’ll naturally come across the words. But slow it down and really take it in.

My goal for you (and me) is that you would allow the words to mean something, so that when we get to saying it all in church together, you can feel the power of the confessional process. And in that, I pray that you find the freedom from sin that you need to experience deep healing. Amen.