This morning's post in Easter is Coming - What Do We Hunger and Thirst For? is by Sean Gladding.
Sean Gladding is part of Communality, a missional community in Lexington, KY. He is the author of The Story of God, the Story of Us (IVP, 2010).
“Why do you spend your hard earned cash on junk food?” Isaiah 55:2 (The Message)
“Don’t waste your energy striving for perishable food.” John 6:27 (The Message)
There is a hunger inside me that seems insatiable. A thirst that seems unquenchable. Over the years I have tried to satisfy that hunger in all kinds of ways, and my experience deeply resonates with the words of Isaiah and Jesus. I have given myself to things that seem to promise so much, but that still leave me hungry. I have spent my resources – money, time, energy, emotion – to try and quench the raging thirst, only to discover that when I am spent, the thirst is still there. I know I am not alone in this. We have given ourselves to alcohol, to drugs, to sex, to work, to possessions, to religion, and yes, to activism in the vain hope that those things will satisfy our hunger, will slake our thirst: they will fill the void we feel at the very center of our being.
And they never do. Because they cannot.
Some of us learned how to take the edge off our hunger, and so we live with a dull ache rather than sharp pangs. We moderated our drinking. Engaged in serial monogamy. Found ourselves in the church building every time the doors were open. Even threw ourselves into serving others. Perhaps we took the edge off by promising ourselves that one day our hunger would be satisfied. When we quit using. When we get out of debt. When we get that promotion. When we find the right one. When we have kids. When the kids leave. We postpone the satisfaction we long for and learn to live with the dull ache.
Is there hope for people like us?
“Hey there! All who are thirsty, come to the water! Are you penniless? Come anyway – buy and eat!” Isaiah 55:1 (The Message)
“I am the Bread of Life. The person who comes to me shall hunger no more and thirst no more, ever.” John 6:35 (adapted from The Message)
If I had been standing in the crowd that day, hoping for more of that free bread Jesus had given us the day before, I imagine I would have scratched my head and said, “What does that mean?” My experience for years was that even though I believed in Jesus, and was pouring myself out in service of the Kingdom, when I lay in bed at night in the dark, the hunger was still there. And I despised myself for it. Because at that time I had not learned to make the distinction between
the hunger and all the things I did to try and satisfy it: because those things were bad, the hunger was bad. For those of us who do bad things to try and numb the pain we feel, we think the pain itself is bad. But I have come to learn that that is not the case.
Pain serves a vital purpose. That is why leprosy is such a horrific disease – our body cannot tell us that it is hurt, and so we do not respond to injury and it worsens through infection. The emotional pain many of us feel serves the same purpose: it tells us that something is very wrong. We were not supposed to live like this. That what was done to us to cause the pain was wrong. That what we are doing to ourselves and to others to numb the pain is wrong.
The hunger we feel is also good. It is part of what it means to be human. The hunger is there because we were made for God, and until we get found by God, that hunger will keep us searching, even if we don’t know what, or who we are searching for. Augustine – a saint who knew a thing or two about alcohol and sex – said it like this: “Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in God.”
Here is the mystery of Jesus’ words: He is the hunger, and he is the food. Or as my friend Matt puts it, “Every knock on the door of the crack house is a knock on the door of heaven.”
Are you hungry? Are you thirsty? Good. For he is the hunger. And he is the food. That is the mystery of Easter, and of the Eucharist. A mountain of chocolate and a river of alcohol cannot satisfy. But a pinch of bread, and a sip of wine in the company of the hungry and the thirsty can be enough. A meal shared with friends can fill us, as we wait for that day when we will feast at the Great Banquet together.
“Why do you spend your hard earned cash on junk food?” Isaiah 55:2 (The Message)
“Don’t waste your energy striving for perishable food.” John 6:27 (The Message)
There is a hunger inside me that seems insatiable. A thirst that seems unquenchable. Over the years I have tried to satisfy that hunger in all kinds of ways, and my experience deeply resonates with the words of Isaiah and Jesus. I have given myself to things that seem to promise so much, but that still leave me hungry. I have spent my resources – money, time, energy, emotion – to try and quench the raging thirst, only to discover that when I am spent, the thirst is still there. I know I am not alone in this. We have given ourselves to alcohol, to drugs, to sex, to work, to possessions, to religion, and yes, to activism in the vain hope that those things will satisfy our hunger, will slake our thirst: they will fill the void we feel at the very center of our being.
And they never do. Because they cannot.
Some of us learned how to take the edge off our hunger, and so we live with a dull ache rather than sharp pangs. We moderated our drinking. Engaged in serial monogamy. Found ourselves in the church building every time the doors were open. Even threw ourselves into serving others. Perhaps we took the edge off by promising ourselves that one day our hunger would be satisfied. When we quit using. When we get out of debt. When we get that promotion. When we find the right one. When we have kids. When the kids leave. We postpone the satisfaction we long for and learn to live with the dull ache.
Is there hope for people like us?
“Hey there! All who are thirsty, come to the water! Are you penniless? Come anyway – buy and eat!” Isaiah 55:1 (The Message)
“I am the Bread of Life. The person who comes to me shall hunger no more and thirst no more, ever.” John 6:35 (adapted from The Message)
If I had been standing in the crowd that day, hoping for more of that free bread Jesus had given us the day before, I imagine I would have scratched my head and said, “What does that mean?” My experience for years was that even though I believed in Jesus, and was pouring myself out in service of the Kingdom, when I lay in bed at night in the dark, the hunger was still there. And I despised myself for it. Because at that time I had not learned to make the distinction between
the hunger and all the things I did to try and satisfy it: because those things were bad, the hunger was bad. For those of us who do bad things to try and numb the pain we feel, we think the pain itself is bad. But I have come to learn that that is not the case.
Pain serves a vital purpose. That is why leprosy is such a horrific disease – our body cannot tell us that it is hurt, and so we do not respond to injury and it worsens through infection. The emotional pain many of us feel serves the same purpose: it tells us that something is very wrong. We were not supposed to live like this. That what was done to us to cause the pain was wrong. That what we are doing to ourselves and to others to numb the pain is wrong.
The hunger we feel is also good. It is part of what it means to be human. The hunger is there because we were made for God, and until we get found by God, that hunger will keep us searching, even if we don’t know what, or who we are searching for. Augustine – a saint who knew a thing or two about alcohol and sex – said it like this: “Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in God.”
Here is the mystery of Jesus’ words: He is the hunger, and he is the food. Or as my friend Matt puts it, “Every knock on the door of the crack house is a knock on the door of heaven.”
Are you hungry? Are you thirsty? Good. For he is the hunger. And he is the food. That is the mystery of Easter, and of the Eucharist. A mountain of chocolate and a river of alcohol cannot satisfy. But a pinch of bread, and a sip of wine in the company of the hungry and the thirsty can be enough. A meal shared with friends can fill us, as we wait for that day when we will feast at the Great Banquet together.
This morning’s post in the series Easter is Coming: What Do We Hunger and Thirst For? is by David Backes.
David Backes has written and spoken on various aspects of the environment and the spiritual journey for many years. He teaches courses on these themes at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, and is also ordained as a Roman Catholic deacon. it was first posted on his blog New Wood.
The idea of placing Jesus into a modern setting and putting a classic parable into modern context has been in my head for a while, but this is the first time I’ve tried it. It’s also the first time I’m connecting a post to a wider group project, a series coordinated by Godspace called “Getting Ready for Lent—What Do We Hunger and Thirst For?” Here goes:
The idea of placing Jesus into a modern setting and putting a classic parable into modern context has been in my head for a while, but this is the first time I’ve tried it. It’s also the first time I’m connecting a post to a wider group project, a series coordinated by Godspace called “Getting Ready for Lent—What Do We Hunger and Thirst For?” Here goes:
***
Jesus was in Washington, D.C., speaking at the annual National Prayer Breakfast. A politician well-known for strong religious views stood up to test him and said, “Jesus, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
Jesus responded, “What is written in God’s law? How do you understand it?”
The politician said, “You shall love God with all your heart, all your being, all your strength and all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus replied, “You said it well. Do this and you will live.”
Looking for a loophole, the politician pressed Jesus: “And how would you define ‘neighbor’?”
Jesus answered with a story. “A poor nation on a remote continent suffered a devastating drought; hundreds of thousands were dying of thirst and famine, and then disease broke out and the death toll continued to climb. The whole world watched with horror as newscasts showed the immensity of the suffering.
“Many of the people who watched lived in wealthy countries. Some of them saw the news, commented on how awful it was for those poor people, said a prayer or two, and then stopped thinking about it.
“Others who saw the news not only prayed, but donated money to one of the international relief organizations that were bringing aid to the people of that poor nation. Then they went back to their lives, happy to have done something good.
“There were a few who wondered about the drought and why it was so devastating. They went online to learn more about it, and discovered that it was linked to climate change and that intense droughts were going to be an even greater problem in the decades ahead, especially impacting the world’s poorest people. They learned about the causes of climate change, and came to realize that their own way of living was a major part of the problem. They hadn’t known! They had simply lived as others did around them. At first this made them feel terribly guilty, but then, after a period of much prayer and questioning, they discovered that they, too, suffered from drought—an inner drought. And they become aware of a deep thirst: they thirsted for connectedness, for meaning, for love, for justice.
“This thirst opened their hearts and prompted them to action. They decided to simplify their lives for the sake of those suffering halfway around the world, as well as for the sake of future generations. Over time they found all sorts of ways to cut their own energy use; they also rediscovered the joy of spending time outdoors, reading, playing instruments, growing things and visiting, and they got more involved in the community. Some of them also donated money to relief organizations, and some of them didn’t, but they all rediscovered the heart of their faith and their connectedness to the world around them. They were less distracted, less anxious, and more joyful. They were happy to live simply, so that others could simply live.”
Jesus turned to the politician, and asked, “What do you think? Which of these kinds of people have become neighbors to those who are suffering?”
The politician responded, “Those who discovered their own inner thirst, and changed their lives for the sake of people they couldn't even see--those halfway around the world and those of the future.”
Jesus said, “Go and do the same, and you will find freedom, love and joy.”
[Click for the second in Backes' series -- Jesus responds to another questioner, a university professor, and suggests "a more perfect way."]
[Here's a resource if you would like to pray and/or meditate on five scripture passages that can help you examine your relationship to creation in comparison to the values of Christ. If you want to get right to the five passages and reflections, see the links at the bottom of that post.]
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="340"]
Archbishop Desmond Tutu via http://theforgivenessproject.com[/caption]
Today's prayer is attributed to Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu adapted from an original prayer by Sir Francis Drake.
Disturb us, O Lord
when we are too well-pleased with ourselves
when our dreams have come true because we dreamed too little,
because we sailed too close to the shore.
Disturb us, O Lord
when with the abundance of things we possess,
we have lost our thirst for the water of life
when, having fallen in love with time,
we have ceased to dream of eternity
and in our efforts to build a new earth,
we have allowed our vision of Heaven to grow dim.
Stir us, O Lord
to dare more boldly, to venture into wider seas
where storms show Thy mastery,
where losing sight of land, we shall find the stars.
In the name of Him who pushed back the horizons of our hopes
and invited the brave to follow.
Amen
A couple of years ago I also obtained a copy of Desmond Tutu's An African Prayer Book. It has some wonderful prayers in it and I would heartily recommend it to anyone who wants to enrich their prayer life.
Archbishop Desmond Tutu via http://theforgivenessproject.com[/caption]
Today's prayer is attributed to Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu adapted from an original prayer by Sir Francis Drake.
Disturb us, O Lord
when we are too well-pleased with ourselves
when our dreams have come true because we dreamed too little,
because we sailed too close to the shore.
Disturb us, O Lord
when with the abundance of things we possess,
we have lost our thirst for the water of life
when, having fallen in love with time,
we have ceased to dream of eternity
and in our efforts to build a new earth,
we have allowed our vision of Heaven to grow dim.
Stir us, O Lord
to dare more boldly, to venture into wider seas
where storms show Thy mastery,
where losing sight of land, we shall find the stars.
In the name of Him who pushed back the horizons of our hopes
and invited the brave to follow.
Amen
A couple of years ago I also obtained a copy of Desmond Tutu's An African Prayer Book. It has some wonderful prayers in it and I would heartily recommend it to anyone who wants to enrich their prayer life.
This morning’s post in the series Easter is Coming: What Do We Hunger and Thirst For? is by Steve Kimes. Steve Kimes is a pastor among the homeless and the mentally ill in Portland, Oregon. He also has numerous blogs and a website on poverty, theology philosophy and Jesus. You can find his blog here, where this reflection was first posted.
O God, I am parched.
I am barely able to move, my need is so deep. Yes, I move in the world, I eat, I drink, I converse. But my body is hollow; my soul is mourning its loss. My God, why have you forsaken us? I already know there is no hope on earth for us.
Why are the needy forsaken? Why do children pick through garbage for food? Why do the simple have no one to support them? Babies hanging on empty breasts; wraith souls brutally violated; men wandering: hearthless, hopeless, frenzied, friendless. They cry to you, and pour their hearts to you and they are silenced by death, even while living. Why are the weak only granted more weakness? Why are the mourning gifted ever more sorrow?
And the powerful obtain more power. “Look at my sorrow, observe my need,” say those who horde the resources of this world as a toddler who insists that the whole of the world is his own plaything. They offer a drop of water to the desperate and keep an ocean to themselves, never declaring “enough.” Why do the sightless insist that compassion is fruitless? Why do the powerful harden their hearts to the helpless?
My God, how do you remain silent? How does heaven remain barred, allowing the foolishly satisfied to claim that all is right in the world? I am starving from your silence. The god-speakers (but not do-gooders) insist that there is peace, peace, yet they do not step outside of their golden palaces long enough to see the sickness, poverty and death. How long will you allow them to speak of your kingdom already come when destruction, despair and disdain reign? How long will you allow them to speak of the miracle of democracy and capitalism, when billions of souls are the cost upon which the society is built? How dare you remain silent! Damn their blasphemies! Entwine their pseudo-god-speak with a millstone and cast them into the deepest lake of fire!
How dare you? How dare you allow these dealers of synthetic theology speak while you remain silent? How dare you allow generation after generation fall while the fat and sassy build themselves up, using your name so casually, so faithlessly? Have you no pride?
But I… my feet come close to stumbling. How easy it is to see a world entombed, and to fail to see the coming consummation. Yours is the power. Yours is the glory. Yours is the kingdom. If only I could enter into your patience. It is so hard to welcome long suffering when children shiver in the cold and are beaten into becoming the next generation of evil-doers. It is difficult to wait.
I know, Lord. I know you have given me everything good. I know that your heart is with the needy. You understand that when your sorrows overwhelm you it is hard to be grateful. You have experienced all of our temptations. I am not thankless, my Father. But we are in need of restoration and resurrection. No economic system, no governmental ideal will grant it to us. Only your love.
This morning’s post in the series Easter is Coming: What Do We Hunger and Thirst For? is by Theresa Froehlich. She is a life coach, writer, speaker, and ordained minister. Theresa is a native of Hong Kong. She and her husband, Hervey, have been married since 1983. They have two grown children.
Christians think of Lent as a time of giving up something for Jesus. But God intends this to be a time for us to receive from his Son.
On that fateful Friday two thousand years ago, Jesus had been arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane and tried before the Sanhedrin, the high court of the Jews. They spit in his face, struck him, mocked and taunted him (Mt. 26:67-68). While the high priest and the officials were subjecting the Savior of the world to humiliation and physical abuse, Simon Peter was warming himself by the fire in the courtyard along with other servants of the high priest. This Simon Peter was the same disciple who not long ago had pledged unwavering loyalty to the point of death (Lk 22:33).
We approach Lent with the same kind of self-confidence: we give up sweets, ice cream, football, TV. video gaming, or pornography. This kind of self-denial arrests our appetites for excesses for a short time, only for them to re-surface after Easter with roaring vigor. And so each Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday come and go without any fundamental transformation. We “spend money on what is not bread, and [our] labor on what does not satisfy” (Isaiah 55:2). When the weather is right, we gather around the fire to warm ourselves, with more sweets, ice cream, football, TV, video gaming, or pornography.
On each Ash Wednesday, the priest in the liturgical churches uses the ashes, made by burning the palm branches of the previous year, to make the sign of the cross on the foreheads of the believers. This sign is a call to fasting, repentance, and mourning; it is also a symbol that reminds us we are dust and to dust we shall return (Gen 3:19).
Giving up something is an expression of fasting, but to divorce fasting from mourning is to miss the first Beatitude in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Mt. 5:3) Perhaps the place to begin isn’t what creature comforts, addictive appetites, or innocuous idolatries we choose to abstain from for a limited period of time. Perhaps the place to begin is to take to heart our spiritual bankruptcy, our propensity to love the little idols more than we love God, and our unbelief about the transformative power of God’s Spirit. When we begin with this, our hands will be pried open to receive what God has to give us. We will no longer approach God as the resourceful givers who bring the gift of abstinence. Instead we will approach him as beggars. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” (Mt. 5:4)
This above article was first posted on Theresa Froelich's blog
Christians think of Lent as a time of giving up something for Jesus. But God intends this to be a time for us to receive from his Son.
On that fateful Friday two thousand years ago, Jesus had been arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane and tried before the Sanhedrin, the high court of the Jews. They spit in his face, struck him, mocked and taunted him (Mt. 26:67-68). While the high priest and the officials were subjecting the Savior of the world to humiliation and physical abuse, Simon Peter was warming himself by the fire in the courtyard along with other servants of the high priest. This Simon Peter was the same disciple who not long ago had pledged unwavering loyalty to the point of death (Lk 22:33).
We approach Lent with the same kind of self-confidence: we give up sweets, ice cream, football, TV. video gaming, or pornography. This kind of self-denial arrests our appetites for excesses for a short time, only for them to re-surface after Easter with roaring vigor. And so each Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday come and go without any fundamental transformation. We “spend money on what is not bread, and [our] labor on what does not satisfy” (Isaiah 55:2). When the weather is right, we gather around the fire to warm ourselves, with more sweets, ice cream, football, TV, video gaming, or pornography.
On each Ash Wednesday, the priest in the liturgical churches uses the ashes, made by burning the palm branches of the previous year, to make the sign of the cross on the foreheads of the believers. This sign is a call to fasting, repentance, and mourning; it is also a symbol that reminds us we are dust and to dust we shall return (Gen 3:19).
Giving up something is an expression of fasting, but to divorce fasting from mourning is to miss the first Beatitude in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Mt. 5:3) Perhaps the place to begin isn’t what creature comforts, addictive appetites, or innocuous idolatries we choose to abstain from for a limited period of time. Perhaps the place to begin is to take to heart our spiritual bankruptcy, our propensity to love the little idols more than we love God, and our unbelief about the transformative power of God’s Spirit. When we begin with this, our hands will be pried open to receive what God has to give us. We will no longer approach God as the resourceful givers who bring the gift of abstinence. Instead we will approach him as beggars. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” (Mt. 5:4)
This above article was first posted on Theresa Froelich's blog
This prayer is usually accredited to Mother Theresa though it was probably written by Keith Kent.I t was found written on the wall of Mother Teresa's home for children in Calcutta. It seemed appropriate for this season of Lent
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="220" caption="Mother Teresa of Calcutta"]
[/caption]
[/caption]
People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.
-this version is credited to Mother Teresa
[caption id="attachment_5936" align="aligncenter" width="224" caption="A Prayer for the Second Sunday of Lent"]
[/caption]
I am posting this early because Tom & I are heading out of town tomorrow. The readings for Sunday are: Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16; Psalm 22:23-31; Romans 4:13-25; Mark 8: 31-38 or Mark 9:2-9
Righteous God, compassionate and generous one,
Who forgives our sins and always has mercy.
Shine your light on our faces,
Fill our hidden darkness with your healing light,
Breathe on us afresh and grant us life.
God you are always ready to forgive,
Bend down and hear our prayers.
Respond to our repentant cries,
Purify our hearts and cleanse our souls,
That we may honour and serve you in all our ways.
God you are a covenant making God,
Who gives assurance of salvation and faithfulness.
May we see your signs in the wilderness,
Believe your promises in the midst of temptation,
And willingly follow your call into the kingdom.
Lord of life, touch and transfigure us,
Let your love grow strong and deep within us.
May your compassion bloom in us,
Your righteousness bear fruit,
Your generosity encourage us to share.
Amen
[/caption]
I am posting this early because Tom & I are heading out of town tomorrow. The readings for Sunday are: Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16; Psalm 22:23-31; Romans 4:13-25; Mark 8: 31-38 or Mark 9:2-9
Righteous God, compassionate and generous one,
Who forgives our sins and always has mercy.
Shine your light on our faces,
Fill our hidden darkness with your healing light,
Breathe on us afresh and grant us life.
God you are always ready to forgive,
Bend down and hear our prayers.
Respond to our repentant cries,
Purify our hearts and cleanse our souls,
That we may honour and serve you in all our ways.
God you are a covenant making God,
Who gives assurance of salvation and faithfulness.
May we see your signs in the wilderness,
Believe your promises in the midst of temptation,
And willingly follow your call into the kingdom.
Lord of life, touch and transfigure us,
Let your love grow strong and deep within us.
May your compassion bloom in us,
Your righteousness bear fruit,
Your generosity encourage us to share.
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