Blind Spot

AMOS 5:6-7, 10-15
PSALM 90:12-17
HEBREWS 4:12-16
MARK 10:17-31

The practical definition of a blind spot is simply, “something you don’t see.”

It’s often quite painful when a blind spot is exposed to us. In fact, it can be grievous. But once it’s been exposed and dealt with, the result can be quite life changing.

In this week’s Gospel reading, Jesus lovingly exposes a blind spot in an exceptionally successful, powerful, and moral young man—just one thing that’s holding him back (though admittedly, it’s a big one).

But sadly, while its exposure grieves him, it doesn’t quite change him.

Common Ground

GENESIS 2:18-24
HEBREWS 1:1-4; 2:5-12
MARK 10:2-16

Just last Sunday I was telling a visitor why I value preaching through the lectionary. I said something super cheery like, “I never have to dream up a topic or a passage, because they’re determined by the Church calendar and the cycle we’re in (“Year B” this year). I actually really like that.”

May have spoken too soon. Monday morning I read this week’s Gospel.
So, besides the level ground at the foot of the cross, you and I may have other common ground this week:

I don’t really want to preach this sermon...and I’m betting you don’t really want to hear it.

Reductio ad Absurdum

NUMBERS 11:4-6, 10-16, 24-29
PSALM 19:7-14
JAMES 5:13-20
MARK 9:38-50

In this week’s Gospel reading, Jesus seemingly offers a fairly extreme way to avoid wrongdoing.

Apparently, if you sufficiently dismember yourself, you won’t be able to take any wrong action. This is, at least, the logic by which Jesus reduces the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees to the absurd.

In their view, the law could be satisfied, and thus goodness attained, if you simply avoided sinning. You’re “right” if you’ve done nothing “wrong.” You could keep from sinning if you simply eliminated the bodily parts that make sinful actions possible. You’d stay out of hell, but you’d roll into heaven a mutilated stump.


Living Gently within the Wisdom of the Cross

JEREMIAH 11:18-20
JAMES 3:13-4:3, 7-8A
MARK 9:30-37

Living gently within the wisdom of Christ's cross and resurrection doesn't seem very dangerous, yet as we comprehend the face of our Lord amongst those who cannot offer us anything in return, nor even the satisfaction of being admired for our service, it may well be the case that we will show a world of vicious division and ambition that there is a God who loves them.

Not the God I Wanted

ISAIAH 50:4-9
PSALM 116:1-8
JAMES 3:1-12
MARK 8:27-38

A few days ago, a friend texted me a quote by author Richard Rohr, and I don’t like it: “The real places of spiritual transformation are solitude, loneliness, boredom, suffering, and fear. Things we want to avoid but where the good stuff always hides.”

I know this to be true, and that’s why I don’t like it. Candidly, this is not the God I wanted.

But I’m not alone. This is revealed in the answer to a pointed question Jesus asked in this week’s Gospel reading. It’s not the God Peter wanted either...but it is the God that is.

And the God that is is so much better.

You Are A Grain Of Wheat

DEUTERONOMY 4:1-2, 6-9
JAMES 1:17-27
MARK 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

You are not a glass of wine. You are not the ripple of an echo. You have not yet forgotten your name, and your soul is not a chip from a star.

To Whom Shall We Go?

JOSHUA 24:1-2A,14-18
PSALM 34:15-22
JOHN 6:56-69

From the ongoing sexual abuse scandal once again rocking the Roman Catholic Church, forcing the resignation of Cardinal McCarrick; to the sexual abuse scandal at the prominent and influential Willow Creek Community Church, ousting Bill Hybels, his two pastoral successors, and the entire Board of Elders.

While Lauren and I were travelling earlier this week, the top story in the local news was of a parish Priest who’d stolen more than a quarter million dollars from his predominately poor congregation.

The angry, impassioned—and justifiable—responses of heartbroken and disillusioned parishioners have been really hard to see. In a lot of ways, many are asking the very question the Apostle Peter asked (and answered!) in this week’s Gospel reading.

How Should We Then Sing?

PSALM 34:9-14
JOHN 6:51-58

Besides church, try to imagine any other times and places where you sit with a group of people you don’t know and sing. Where does that happen? Sometimes at a birthday party. Or you might stumble through Auld Lang Syne on New Year’s Eve. Or maybe during the seventh inning stretch if you’ve had a couple.

Imagine going to your favorite coffee shop, standing up, and saying, “Let’s just sing a few songs together!” I doubt you’d get much participation because culturally, today, it’s an odd thing to do.

However, in the seminal book, “Worship and the Early Church”, scholar Ralph Martin writes, “The Christian Church was born in song.” Singing together has always been seen as a vital part of Christian worship.

But why should we sing? And just as importantly, how? St. Paul gets at both in this week’s Epistle.

Tired of Understanding

1 KINGS 19:4-8
PSALM 34:1-8
EPHESIANS 4:25-5:2
JOHN 6:35, 41-51

I met an old friend for coffee last week, and he said something that saddened me. Mind you, this guy’s a veteran seminary professor, and the Executive Vice President of one of the largest Evangelical ministries in the US, if not the world.

“I’m just so tired,” he said, “of having to understand and explain everything. There’s no mystery left in my faith.”

This is true of much of the modern church, but it hasn’t always been so. The command of Jesus, after all, was “take and eat,” not “take and understand.”

Following Our Stomachs

EXODUS 16:2-4, 9-15
PSALM 78:23-29
JOHN 6:24-35

Some people might say they are 'spiritual but not religious'. I am under no illusions: I am certainly 'religious but not spiritual'. My countenance toward prayer and love hinges on my stomach. If I am satisfied I find love easy. When I am hungry, physically or otherwise, I do not love nearly so patiently. Being religious, I at least have a sense of when and how I should pray at a given time of the day or occasion.

Such a discipline also gives me a moment when I can remember that if I set aside my desires, just for a minute or two, I can be open to something more wondrous.

God has seen our impatient faith many times, on the way out of Egypt and beyond. The people of God tend to do as they are called when they know their faithfulness may fill their stomachs, not because it is right or something.

Jesus knows. And he is kind.


2 KINGS 4:42-44
PSALM 145:10-19
JOHN 6:1-21

The vast majority of the long chapter of John 6 is dedicated to telling the story of the feeding of the 5,000 and after that, Jesus’ stunning exposition of its meaning.

But stuck right in the middle of those two things—five verses—almost parenthetically, Jesus walks on the water...a completely unrelated miracle.

Or at least that’s how it seems.

Jesus Has a Picnic?

MARK 6:30-44

This week’s Gospel reading is one of the best-known stories in the Bible. For most, it’s basically a warm fuzzy: Jesus has a picnic. You can almost see everyone sitting on the lush green grass eating and laughing. You can almost imagine the red checkered tablecloths spread on the ground...

But don’t.

The textual and historical context tells us this is about something radically different: a revolution. Only one that’s totally unexpected, based on a shocking revolutionary act, and led by impossibly unqualified revolutionaries.

The Bite of Conscience

AMOS 7:7-15
PSALM 85:8-13
MARK 6:14-29

“If God is dead, anything is possible,” mused Dostoevsky’s Grand Inquisitor in 1880. but it was Friedrich Nietzsche who set himself to the task of showing what that meant in the real world. In 1887 he wrote his Genealogy of Morals, which is the best and clearest introduction to Nietzsche’s life project.

His project was largely to kill conscience or die trying. “The bite of conscience,” he wrote, “like the bite of a dog into a stone, is a stupidity.”

Conscience is a word that means “with knowledge”, and we all know its bite can really hurt. It’s that bite Herod Antipas got in the first few verses of this week’s Gospel reading. And it really hurt.


MARK 6:1-13

The root word of axiomatic, axiom—a self-evident truth—comes from the Greek axioma, meaning "authority”. We use it to describe compact, often pithy statements that have the authority of truth about them.

For example, “Out of sight, out of mind” is axiomatic because we all know it experientially as true. “Familiarity breeds contempt” is too.

It’s the latter Jesus confronts in this week’s Gospel reading, and he does it with an axiom of his own.

Our Turn for Tragedy

MARK 5:21-43

On Thursday, June 28, Annapolis experienced terrible violence. The 'somewhere else' for which we have so often prayed became 'here and now' at the Capital Gazette.

The best-known verse of Lamentations claims: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 

Is this still the case for us and our neighbors this morning?

In response to the calamities which came upon the people of Israel, the writer of Lamentations finds that there is nothing that can save them apart from the Divine Help of God. Only that help was yet to come.

Is God's help still yet to come for us?

I certainly hope it won't be long...

Fear of Widths

JOB 38:1-11
PSALM 107:1-3, 23-32
MARK 4:35-41

Steven Wright, a comedian known for his lethargic, deadpan delivery of ironic, philosophical, and sometimes nonsensical humor once said about fear, “A lot of people are afraid of heights. Not me. I’m afraid of widths.”

The definition of an irrational fear is, of course, “someone else’s.”

But fear—genuine fear—is a very real, and potentially debilitating thing.

And have you ever noticed the vast difference between being told, “there’s nothing to be afraid of”, and being asked, “why are you afraid?” The former can come off as condescending (and wrong), while the latter leaves open the possibility that there may, in fact, be something there.

It’s the latter Jesus asks of some friends in a boat—and by extension, us—in this week’s Gospel reading.


EZEKIEL 17:22-24, PSALM 92:1-4,11-14, 2 CORINTHIANS 5:6-17, MARK 4:26-34

Becoming an instrument rated pilot—one who can fly and land safely without ANY outside visual references— isn’t easy. In fact, it’s a painful and arduous process. It certainly was for me.

It involves learning to trust something you’ve never trusted, but more than that, unlearning to trust what you’ve always trusted (and everyone else trusts).

It’s the unlearning that’s hardest.

This isn’t dissimilar from something provocative St. Paul wrote in this week’s Epistle. It’s not just learning a new way, but more than that, unlearning the old. And that’s a painful and arduous process. It certainly was for him.


FUTAB is Chat for “Feet Up, Take A Break.” FUTAB might be what you imagine when you hear the word Sabbath: aimless rest. Mandatory aimless rest, actually.

But if that’s all you imagine, you’re falling way, way short.

Because Sabbath has a definite aim.

Believe, And Be Saved

One of the three affirmations of the Christian faith which the Anglican Church shares with a great many other Churches is the Athanasian Creed, which begins rather insistently:

Whosoever will be saved, before all things it is necessary that he hold the catholic faith. Which faith except every one do keep whole and undefiled; without doubt he shall perish everlastingly. And the catholic faith is this: That we worship one God in Trinity, and Trinity in Unity; Neither confounding the Persons; nor dividing the Essence.

Why would our ancestors in the faith have commended to us in such certain terms, such a specific and nuanced way of describing and understanding God? Isn't it enough to simply believe in an almighty creator? Or that Jesus died for our sins? Or to receive the Holy Spirit?

On this Trinity Sunday we will explore this mystery together, and perhaps grow to understand why so many who have lived their life with God, pray in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Maybe this prayer tells us more about the Gospel than we might think a simple ritual ever could.