AI Sermons and Bible-bots Answer the Wrong Question

Back in May, I received an email from one of the software companies my church uses that they were going to launch an "AI Sermon" tool. I made a mention of it on my Facebook that basically amounted to an eye roll and then forgot about it.

A couple months later, a friend sent me an article about a "New AI app lets users 'text' with Jesus." Around the same time, I found another article about Biblemate.io, an AI app designed for people to ask faith questions and get quick answers. My friend joked when he sent the article: "They're coming for your job."

Joking or not, there is a lot of debate happening now in our culture and in churches about AI technology, whether it's a good or bad thing, and how, if at all, it should be used. There are some solid concerns about these tools that claim to have a "biblical worldview." There are hundreds of Christian denominations in this country alone and I've never met one that doesn't claim to have a biblical worldview, but they disagree on what that means. Which parts of the Bible should be taken most seriously? Literally? Which translation? Which scholars or pastors do we trust to interpret?

But the debate over accuracy and bias is not the problem I have with a faith-based AI that answers your questions. My problem is they are trying to solve the wrong problem.

Underlying these tools and the intentions of their creators is the assumption that faith is primarily formed by knowledge. But faith is primarily formed by relationships and experiences.

Nils Gulbranson, the creator of Biblemate.io, said his goal was to create a tool that would answer the questions he had growing up. That is commendable and I think is a worthy goal, but having the answers to questions alone does not create the trust and allegiance that is a living faith, just as knowing my wife's age, name, and favorite color doesn't create the love we share.

Jesus himself often answered questions with more questions -- "Who acted as a neighbor?" or "Who do you say that I am?" -- or with parables that often raised more questions than answers. When he gave direct answers to religious leaders, it often angered or confused them instead of sparking devotion to him. And even his disciples seem confused more often than they appear knowledgeable.

(The men who opened fire on a Black church in Charleston in 2015 and a Jewish synagogue north of San Diego in 2019 were both "knowledgable" about the Bible. They had been raised and confirmed in mainline Christian churches [the former in my own, the ELCA] and they used what they "knew" to defend their hate. As James 2:19 says, "Even demons believe" God is real.)

I love questions and I love knowledge (I used to joke about becoming a professional student), but they are a part of my faith, not the source of it. My faith came about because of the people of faith who raised and shaped me, because of the love and welcome I experienced as a child in church, and because of hundreds of moments of grace and joy that drew me closer to the source of them I've come to know as God. Questions and answers have helped me make sense of these experiences and relationships, but they aren't really the foundation of it.

I'm reminded of a story that was shared with me from a summer church event at the park. People of all ages were playing games, laughing, eating, and talking to one another, when a youth (who was not from our church) said to a friend, "What is going on here?" His friend looked around and said, "This is church." That moment of confusion and wonder is the seed of faith, watered with the knowledge that what you are experiencing is God at work. 

In May, I wrote about Sermon AI: "I’ve long held that a sermon is a living thing that is much more than information. It is an invitation into the ongoing story of God and God’s people. It is a marriage proposal from God asking us to change our lives forever week after week. If I preach well, I am not the focus and I am not the 'expert', but a fellow student ... [AI] cannot be a Living Word that connects the physical and divine. It cannot proclaim with any authority 'we are trapped in sin, but God loves us anyway and wants to set you free.'”

AI tools can be useful for supporting faith, or helping someone along in faith, but they won't take my job because my job isn't really about knowledge or answering every question. My job is trying to create the experiences and relationships that lead people to WANT to ask questions in the first place. 

Or, this may all be a very long way of saying: faith isn't taught, it is caught.

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“Unbelievable. The gospel according to who?” -REM, “Living Well is the Best Revenge”

The God I Don't Believe In

Photo by Ari Mattson

If your faith is more interested in drawing lines and building walls between people than building bridges and seeking connection, I don't believe in that god. 

If your faith agrees completely with the platform of any political party, I don't believe in that god. 

If your faith believes that your nation is specially blessed by God to save the world, but it isn't named in the Bible, I don't believe in that god.

If your faith never challenges you to change, but makes you hyper aware of other peoples' flaws, I don't believe in that god. 

If your faith never challenges you to change and agrees with everything you already believe, I don't believe in that god.

If your faith practices fear and compulsion to create "converts" instead of attracting people by its beauty, I don't believe in that god. 

If your faith believes it needs power to force people to fall in line, I don't believe in that God. 

If your faith condones violence as anything but a last resort and only to protect others, I don't believe in that god.

If your faith requires hierarchies based on gender, age, ethnicity, sexuality, or political persuasion, I don't believe in that god. 

If your faith wants to avoid the pain and confusion of the cross and only talk about Easter, I don't believe in that god.

If your faith only cares about your soul going to heaven and not the physical plight of others, I don't believe in that god.

If your faith only cares about physical needs and not spiritual transformation, I don't believe in that god. 

If your faith believes faith is a place you need to arrive and stay, instead of a journey of discovery "to grasp how long and high and wide and deep is the love of Christ" (Ephesians 3:18), I don't believe in that god. 

If your faith is only about what you believe in your head, or what you do with your hands, or what you feel in your heart and not all three, I don't believe in that god.

If your faith offers simple answers to every problem and demands you don't ask questions, I don't believe in that god.

Faith in Media: When the Pop Star Interviewed the Late Show Host

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When I first heard about this interview clip between Stephen Colbert and Dua Lipa, I was confused. I was told that Dua Lipa, the pop star, was interviewing Stephen Colbert of The Late Show on his show? And Lipa, known for sexy dancehall hits, was asking him sincere questions about his faith as a Christian? And Colbert had a profound and personal answer? 

That combination of factors didn't really compute in my brain, and so I forgot about it at the time. Then about five months later, someone told me, "No seriously, you need to watch it."

I've now watched it multiple times because I think it really is that good. And the novelty isn't even the best part. (The first few minutes sets up the conversation, but the relevant Q&A begins at 2:43 in the clip.) There are at least three things that I find particularly worthy of reflection. 

First is simply the authentic humanity of the conversation. While they are joking around, Lipa's question is honest (she is really curious to learn what he has to say) and dignifying (she recognizes something that is important to Colbert that she may not share or understand) and Colbert's response is respectful (he answers honestly without scoffing at the question or trying to convince her of anything). In an age where we so often see differences of opinion as a threat or lack the curiosity to want to understand another point of view, it's refreshing to see a conversation that isn't a debate. I wish more conversations around the dinner table or water cooler went like this.

Second, I think it's amazing how well Colbert is able to use his faith to interpret a movie and a quote with theological lenses. And he doesn't use clichés to do it. I know I struggle to do that at times with a master's degree in religion, but he is at ease with the ideas and language of his faith. It's clear that he has thought about how his faith, his comedy, and current events intersect in strong ways. If I could teach that skill effectively, I would probably put myself out of a job. 

Finally, I love how Colbert identifies fear as the opposite of faith. Fear leads us to excuse evil, he says, and the solution isn't to ignore death or evil, but to disarm them with laughter. I think we're often more likely to ignore uncomfortable feelings like sadness or pain, but Colbert suggests we need to confront them or else they become too powerful. Finding ways to laugh about death to care for one another has echoes of "take up your cross and follow me." If you want to find God, don't run from hurt, but tend to it until something new grows out of it. (Luther called this his "Theology of the Cross.")

I hope you can find something as useful in this interview. If you have your own perspectives and know how to reach me, please engage with me by email or on Facebook. I'm happy to continue the conversation started by a pop star and a late night host. 

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“I’m a walking, talking question mark, but what is the question again?” -Jamie Lidell, “What’s the Use”

“Midnight Mass,” Mars Hill, and Religious Extremism

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In one week last fall, I finished two very different series that were recommended to me for very different reasons from different people but had nearly identical lessons. 

The first was a documentary podcast series from Christianity Today called, “The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill.” Over thirteen episodes (plus two bonus episodes), the series traced the ministry of a mega-church in Seattle and its “young, restless, and reformed” lead pastor, Mark Driscoll. Mars Hill became one of the largest churches in America, appealing especially to young adults and men in a notoriously unreligious city. But, as the name suggests, the church fell apart publicly and suddenly when Driscoll resigned in the wake of an investigation into his leadership that alleged abuse and bullying. 

The second series was "Midnight Mass," a Netflix horror series that was the most popular streaming show in the country for a few weeks. (Note: NO spoilers ahead.) Normally it never would have been on my radar, but three different sources offered the same basic review: "I normally don't like horror, but this was different and it raised a lot of questions about religion that made me think, but I think it would offend a lot of Christians, and I really want to talk about it with someone." With that intriguing trinity of recommendations, I started watching it and ended up binging it with my spouse and daughter who wandered in while I was watching. And talk about it we did! 

It's the kind of show that is difficult to say anything about without giving away spoilers, but the basic premise is that a small fishing village on a New England island is dying. After a new priest unexpectedly arrives at the Catholic Church that serves as the heart of the community, strange things begin happening -- some terrifying and some miraculous -- and there are disagreements about what they mean. Once you learn what is happening and why, but you are left wrestling with questions about ends justifying means, the difference between faith and cultishness, the meanings of love and life, and so much more. 

It was these nagging questions that form the bridge between these two series. Both are asking deep questions about one central question: When does religion move from being a medicine to being a disease?

In the case of Mars Hill, the host tracks the way the church helps many people develop their faith and become better people, but often does so with methods that are antithetical to the character of Jesus. Despite narcissistic, dishonest, and vengeful behavior, Mark Driscoll grows in power and people that get in his way become "bodies under the bus" as he says in one infamous conversation. As long as the church is growing, people believe, Mark must be correct. Over time, the church becomes focused on promoting Mark Driscoll instead of Jesus, while the differences between the two are ever more stark. 

Likewise, in "Midnight Mass," there are people who are willing to defend and overlook what should be objectively evil as long as it also brings blessings and miracles. In both cases, people will use scripture and theological language to excuse bad behavior or attack those who are trying to speak the truth. 

I found myself feeling very uncomfortable on multiple occasions in both series as I would hear Mark Driscoll or a villain in the fictional series use theological language and Bible lessons that I largely agree with (and have at times used myself), only to have them land on a conclusion completely opposite of what I believe. 

On hearing and seeing how people are wounded by those words, I had to think deeply about my own vocation and the authority I have as a pastor to shape what people believe is true. I was reminded of times I have been less than Christ-like in my leadership or hurt people in the name of my higher priorities.

Both series are powerful because they make the audience stare at the worst of religious extremism and abuse, but neither one is really anti-religion. They also celebrate what is beautiful and life-giving in religious practices. They offer compelling examples of how faith brings out the best in people, even in the worst of times. They are haunting and compelling because they show how thin the line can be between good and evil, how good intentions do not guarantee virtuous outcomes, and how easily we can deceive ourselves into thinking we are on the side of God as we banish God from our presence, just as the religious leaders of the Gospels crucified Jesus in the name of defending God. 

I highly recommend both series to anyone who likes to think or who wants to wrestle with the questions I've outlined. I'm still thinking about these months after finishing them. Be warned that you will really want to talk to someone about them. I'm available if you know how to reach me. 

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“Bad decisions, they don’t feel bad at the time; consequences, they don’t always fit the crime.” -NEEDTOBREATHE, “Riding High”

Politics and the Pulpit

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It has long been said that one should never discuss religion or politics in polite company. Whether that was ever universally true, we now live in an era in this country where political affiliation has become a litmus test for whether I should be polite in someone's company at all. And religious affiliation and language has become tied up in political discourse in very unhealthy ways that undermine faith and distort the Christian message. 

Given that landscape, it's important for churches and pastors (like me) to spend more time talking about politics, not less. 

To begin with, we need to redefine what we mean when we say "politics." Most people use the word "political" to mean "partisan." Politics is really just the process by which a group of people decide how to live together. Who has power within the group? What guidelines will be used to make decisions? What will be acceptable behavior? 

From that perspective, Christianity makes many political assertions. The Bible says an awful lot about loving the neighbor, honoring the humanity and dignity of every person (e.g. "the least of these" in Matt. 25:31-46), taking special care of the marginalized people in society (e.g. foreigners, orphans, and widows in Deut. 14:28-29), and acceptable behavior (don't kill, steal, or lie; be generous and compassionate). Jesus was executed, in part, by political leaders because he was challenging their power structure. Churches are, in a way, political organizations that are seeking to live as a community guided by the teachings of Jesus as their core. 

When it comes to secular politics, those same principles should guide Christians in how they live with their non-Christian neighbors and, in democracies like ours, how they make decisions when they vote. Of course, there is a lot of complexity and nuance in how we follow the teachings of Jesus in a church and the complexity is magnified when we seek to follow them in a diverse, secular society. 

One problem is that secular political parties are not guided by the same principles; they are founded on  ideas like individual and property rights, national defense, and social responsibility. The policies and priorities of parties can often overlap with scripture and teachings of Jesus, but no political party has ever fully embodied the Christian message. 

In addition, people of deep and sincere faith can disagree on what the best policies are to reflect our faith. The social statements that have been written and approved by my church body, the ELCA, are great examples of this. 

Especially in a country like ours with only two competitive parties, all this means that Christians have to make compromises in voting because we have to vote for a platform or candidate in total. My faith may lead me to agree with one candidate on policies A, D, and E, and the other on policies B and C, but neither on policy F. Which principles do I prioritize to make a decision? 

This is where it's important for a church or a pastor to speak on politics, not to elevate one party over another, but to help Christians understand what Jesus says about how we are to live together and to reflect on how they may align with current issues. (For instance: What does mercy and redemption look like in a prison system? If Jesus repeatedly warns about excessive wealth, how should we shape our fiscal policy?)

We confuse "political" and "partisan" because they often mean the same thing in practice in the US; to take a political stand is to fully adopt one partisan package over another. What really troubles me is that more and more often, it seems as though people are adopting a party platform and fitting their faith to match their partisan politics. Many then use their faith as a justification for policies that have little to do with Christian teaching and/or defend their politics with the same existential ferocity usually practiced by religious fanatics. (I have seen some Christian politicos dismiss Jesus' "love your enemies" command if the enemy is their political opponent because "they" are "evil.")

I believe a lot of this problem is caused because we have not talked about politics in church, have not encouraged people to think theologically about their politics and how they vote. If we have, we have simplified it to one party is always good and one is always evil, instead of acknowledging that no political party or leader can really be that pure. 

It's also important for us to talk about faith and politics more because it gives us a better sense of perspective. Politics is important because it has real impacts on the lives of people here and now, but the church has thrived and outlived many, many governments, movements, philosophies, and leaders. I am often passionate about who I vote for because I hope they will better reflect the values of my faith, but I always remind myself that they are not a replacement for God and my allegiance is finally not to a party, a president, or even a country, but to Jesus. The kingdom of Jesus will always outlive our imperfect attempts to recreate it in our politics. 

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“Oh, time will tell eventually, oh, I am not your enemy.” -The Rescues, “Get Back”

Is Faith a Destination or a Process?

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I remember bumper stickers when I was a kid that read, "There is no way to peace. Peace is the way." The idea behind the stickers was that we can't bomb and kill our way to peace. Though nations often rely on military means to achieve "peace," it's unwise to think one can use death and destruction to subdue an enemy and then have everyone be friends the next day. If true peace needs trust and cooperation between opponents, violence always creates the opposite.

I've been thinking about that phrase a lot recently in my Bible studies and devotional time because it seems to me we are often taught to think in terms of results: How to get the promotion... How to guarantee your kid goes to the Ivy League... How to win...

The same often applies to churches. How to increase attendance... How to guarantee deeper faith...

On one hand, there's nothing wrong with having goals. If we don't know where we're going, we likely won't go anywhere. But I wonder if we too often make the result the only thing that matters. 

If the end result is all that matters, how we get there isn't as important. Did I make someone else look bad so I would be preferred? Did I take advantage of unfair of a privilege someone else lacked to get ahead? Did I twist the truth to get someone on my side? As long as I achieve my goal, I can justify what I did to get there. 

But there are consequences to a "whatever it takes" mentality. I see many politicians openly lying or practicing character assassination to make sure their party gains or keeps power while implying, "We'll be virtuous once we get past the election." But why would should someone be trusted once they have power if they were untrustworthy getting it?

In another example, a bombshell report on the Southern Baptist Convention came out recently that laid out how victims of sexual abuse by pastoral staff were ignored and silenced for years in the name of protecting the institution and concerns about bad press damaging their evangelism. Or if anyone listened to "The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill" podcast, you'll remember the infamous comment by a pastor bragging about "bodies under the bus" of his success. 

When the end goal or success itself is the only thing that matters, how you get there doesn't, but like the way to peace, it's unreasonable to bomb your way to victory and then believe everything will be magically perfect afterwards. 

And it seems that Jesus rarely takes such an approach. Though he talks about building the Kingdom of God and aims to "save the world" (not a small goal!), he spends a lot more time teaching about the process of faith than the destination. He tells people simply, "Follow me" (e.g. Luke 5:27) without telling them where they are going. When James and John ask to sit at his right hand, he warns them against seeking power and tells them to serve one another (Mark 10:35-45). And when he teaches to "love your enemies" and "turn the other cheek," he doesn't say, "Then you'll achieve what you are hoping for." It isn't a "how to" manual with a goal in mind, but more "be like this and let me worry about the conclusion."

In fact, when he tells the disciples he is going to be arrested and die and says, 

"You know the way to where I am going," Thomas said to him, "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?" Jesus said to him, "I am the way and the truth and the life" (John 14:4-6a, emphasis mine)

 In other words, you don't need to know the destination, Thomas; you know me. Follow me and you will get there. He goes on in the following chapters to assure them to stick to what he's taught them. It's like, 

• Step 1: Be loving, generous, forgiving, kind, patient, hopeful, at peace, and welcoming.
• Step 2: If you are (insert any emotion or situation here), see Step 1.

One might say, "There is no way to Jesus. Jesus is the way."

I have found this idea that "Jesus is the way" helpful as there are many things going on in the world around me and in my personal and professional life that are uncertain or out of my control. Over the past two years, almost everything has felt unsettled or temporary. Even when I know where I'm going, it can change or there are detours constantly. But I can tell myself, wherever you are, be loving; whatever happens, be kind; in good or bad, be caring. It gives me a focus and sense of grounding. 

I may not know the final goal, but I know the way. And that's more important.

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“I thought that everything would turn out right, now look what I’ve become: a man I wouldn’t have respect for if I met me when I was young.” -Jars of Clay, “Left Undone”

Learning to Live Together

Being a part of a community is hard.

It is, right?

Whether that community is our neighbors, co-workers, or the people we live with, getting along can be hard work. We have different opinions, different priorities, different favorites, and so on. Even in church, we don't agree on everything. We may love one another as Christians, but not always like each other as people.

Now, when we get along with the people around us, it's fantastic, but when we don't, it can be everything from stressful to destructive.

I've been thinking and reading and talking a lot recently about how to get along with other people because it seems to be a concern right now. There is a general consensus that we aren't as polite, tolerant, or open-minded as we used to be  need to be as a society.  No one likes the division we're seeing in our world right now, but no one's quite sure how to deal with it.

I don't have perfect answers, but I firmly believe that the God who told us to "love one another," "love your enemies," and forgive "seventy seven times" does not want us to live divided or suspicious. And I believe the Church has a role to play in this, helping to proclaim God's reality in our world.

To that end, I'm planning to write a series of blogs about how to live together (#howtolivetogether), sharing some of the wisdom I've been uncovering and hopefully starting some conversations or habits that move us in a new direction. In the resurrection, Jesus transformed the world and in baptism, we are transformed as well. With the Spirit's help, we can continue the work of transformation.

Standing in the Grey,
Pastor Ari

“It feels like giving in. It feels like starting over. It feels like waking up.” -Jars of Clay, “Two Hands”

Some Good News Out of Washington, D.C.

On June 15-22, six youth from my church travelled with another chaperone and myself to Washington, D.C. to work with CSM (www.CSM.org) learning about urban poverty and God’s heart for the city. During the week we served at six different ministries and spent time conversing with the homeless and other residents of the city. There are dozens of stories we have from our time there that we will share with our congregation, but in the immediate aftermath, here are a few ideas we ended up discussing again and again.

Unlearning Distance -- This was CSM’s theme for the summer, based on 2 Corinthians 5:17-21. The passage includes the words we have on our bulletin every week -- “God reconciled us to himself in Christ Jesus and has given us the ministry of reconciliation” -- and we discussed how things like wealth, ethnicity, gender, and politics create divisions in our society, but God’s desire is to break down the barriers between us and build connections. In one example, we sat and talked with a homeless man in a park for an hour and a half in a conversation many kids named as one of their favorite parts of the trip. The lesson: When we break down barriers, we often find the distance is not as great as we thought.

Give Dignity, Not Just Food -- One of the stories that stuck with our students was of a CSM director who stopped to talk with a man asking for change outside a store. When he did, the man started crying and shared he was the first person all day to even acknowledge he was there. We experienced the same in people who were just as grateful for company or a smile as they were for food or clothing. One student summed up the lesson by saying, “I learned giving someone dignity is more important than giving them food.”

Start Small -- At least two of the ministries we served with didn’t start with a plan to become what they are today, or even to be a regular ministry at all. They started when a homeless man asked for a cup of coffee and when someone tried to find furniture for a neighbor. Today they are helping hundreds of thousands of people in the D.C. area. The lesson: Not everything has to be planned out in advance or start on a large scale; offer love when you can, as you can and trust the Holy Spirit to do something with it. 

These simple lessons are probably not new to many of us, but they are often forgotten in our daily activities or the rush of life, but they are profound and powerful. 2 Corinthians 5 also says that “we are ambassadors for Christ” in our lives and simple lessons like these give power to that work. 

Standing in the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“I’m an apostrophe. I’m just a symbol to remind you that there’s more to see.” -Imagine Dragons, “Whatever It Takes”

If Only I Had... God's Perspective

A few weeks ago, the alternative lesson from the Old Testament was from 1 Samuel 8. It's one of those stories I find funny and heart breaking at the same time.

In the story, the Israelites come to the prophet Samuel, who is the prophet of Israel at the time. They come to Samuel with a simple request: "We want a king."

Up to this point, there have been no kings or queens in Israel. A series of temporary leaders called Judges have been providing order since they left Egypt. This was because the LORD God was the king of Israel and the leaders had resisted a royal leader that would undermine God's place at the head of the nation.

Now that system of judges (as with any government) had not been perfect and especially in the recent past, the leaders had not been great. But asking for a king from Samuel was, in essence, a rejection of God.

The comedy in the story comes out when Samuel tries to talk them out of this idea. "Don't you know what a king will do?" he asks. "A king will tax you, take your sons to die in the army, take your daughters to serve in his palaces, take the best of your wealth for himself and not guarantee your well being." And the people more or less respond, "Yep, that's what we're looking for."

Reluctantly, Samuel agrees, Saul is anointed king, and most of what Samuel warned about comes true in the coming years. But it's that moment of decision that I always find interesting. Samuel is blatantly honest about what can happen if they go this way and how it won't work out the way they expect, but they don't care. They blind themselves to it and want it anyway.

They've convinced themselves that there's this one thing out there and if only they can get it, then everything will be fine.

How often do I get stuck thinking that if I just own this gadget, or have this much money, or finish this one goal, then everything will be fine and my problems will be gone? Meanwhile, the prophets are trying to warn me, "It won't be as good as you think and it won't fix all your problems." And they're always right.

The point of this story as well as the commandment against idols and Jesus' many warnings about wealth is basically this: anything, put to it's proper use in line with God's rule can be good and life giving, but when they are elevated above God as the thing we put our ultimate trust in... Well, we're bound to be let down.

We can get caught up thinking "If only..." but the truth I struggle to live into is that even IF I obtain that thing God is God and I am not and God has ordered the universe to work best in the rhythm of generosity, compassion, mercy, and love, not my desires.

God help me to keep my priorities in order.

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari

“I think I'm ready to admit that I've spent all my resistance on someone I can't resist.” -The Waiting, "Hands in the Air"

Holy Vocabulary: What is Love?

In the season of Easter, we have a weekly lesson from the letter of 1 John, a letter often known for talking about love and community. It's because of these themes that I've decided to preach on these texts for the season of Easter, but as I'm re-reading this book one of the ideas I can't get out of my head is how difficult it is to talk about love. Why? Because it comes with a lot of baggage.

Love is a word we throw around a lot in English. We use it to talk about family members and potato chips, about top 40 music and the character of God. We usually use it to mean something like "affection" or "emotional attraction" or "I agree and think this is similar to me."

If that's how we understand the word "love," it's no wonder that we stop short when Jesus says to "love your enemies" (Matt. 5:44; Luke 6:27). How can feel affection for a murderer or approve of a rapist?

But 1 John lays out how that idea of love is one dimensional and shallow. In 3:16, the author says, "We know love by this, that [Jesus] laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for each other." In other words, love isn't just feeling good about something; we recognize it in sacrifice, in working to make someone else the best version of themselves.

Because I love my children, I don't stand by and approve of them hitting another kid; I step in and stop them, I teach them to apologize and respect others. Even if they get angry with me or the punishment or correction causes me trouble or pain. Because I love them, I want them to be better people.

So how do we love a murderer? By stopping them and providing resources for their hearts to change so they can attempt to make recompense. By working for a world that has less root causes of violence and hatred, such as bullying, prejudice, unending poverty, or untreated mental and physical health issues. By praying and working for them to become the best version of themselves, the version of themselves God has created them to be.

And in learning to love others into the best version of themselves, hopefully I am being changed into the best version of myself because God is patiently giving Godself to me for that purpose.

If we're going to understand the love God has given us and calls us to practice, we need to get past the images of Hollywood and Hallmark. Love isn't just positive emotions and giving chocolates, it's giving our lives for others as God did for us.

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari

"Sometimes love has to drive a nail into its own hand." -Chris Rice, "Sometimes Love"

Opening Our Eyes to the Well

“The angel of God called to Hagar from heaven and said to her, ‘What is the matter, Hagar? Do not be afraid; God has heard the boy crying as he lies there.’ Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water. So she went and filled the skin with water and gave the boy a drink.” (Genesis 21: 17, 19)

I am part of a monthly coaching group with four other pastors. The first week of every month, we join a conference call and share encouragements, insights, and ideas for strengthening ourselves and our ministries. In one of our sessions, we were asked to share a Bible passage that was important to our ministry. Several “classic” texts were mentioned before one of the pastors named the story of Hagar as her favorite.

Now, Hagar is kind of a sad story and certainly not one I’d ever considered for inspirational material. Hagar is a servant woman who is used by Abraham so he can father a child, Ishmael. Later on, after Sarah gives birth to Isaac, Hagar and Ishmael are cast off to fend for themselves in the desert. After running out of water, Ishmael is on the verge of death and Hagar cries out in sadness for her son. 

Like I said, it’s a sad story, but it’s this point in the story that my colleague named as the meaningful one for her. When Hagar cries, God hears her and then “opened her eyes and she saw a well of water” (Genesis 21:19). “The miracle,” my colleague said, “wasn’t that God created a source of water, it was that God opened Hagar’s eyes to the well that was already there.”

There are many desert places that we will confront in ministry and in our lives. It’s easy to want a miracle to get us out of those places, but big, flashy miracles are rare. Perhaps the miracles we should be looking for are like Hagar’s, where God opens our eyes to something that was already in front of us. 

I know I’ve experienced this recently as I was confronting a desert time in my life. I was overwhelmed with worry and stress and looking for a magic bullet. I didn’t find that magic bullet, but I was amazed to find the resources I had in friends and acquaintances who provided advice, references, and wisdom from their own experience. 

There are always challenges that will arise in ministry and life. As we confront them, may God open our eyes to the wells of hope that may be around us. 

In God’s Amazing Grace,

Pastor Ari

“Carry me; your love is wider than my need could ever be.” -Jars of Clay, "River Constantine"

(Note: This article first appeared in my church's newsletter.)

The Bible Says Hospitality Means What?

What is hospitality?

Usually I think about hospitality as preparing a meal for my friends or (ugh) cleaning my home before company arrives. There are other thoughts that come to mind, but most of them involve sharing a common space with people I know and love.

This morning, though, I stumbled across a fact that made me rethink what hospitality should be.

The Bible talks an awful lot about hospitality, not always directly, but certainly in terms of loving each other and following the Golden Rule. There are many scenes of dinners and gatherings with guests in both testaments. Hospitality was a huge deal in the ancient Near East and poor hospitality could lead to condemnation and death.

What's fascinating is that the Greek word for hospitality, the word used in the New Testament, is philoxenia, which literally means "love of the stranger." In other words, hospitality isn't just welcoming people we already know and like, it's expecting and making space for the stranger, the other.

It is the hospitality shown when Abraham warmly greets three strangers wandering through the desert and is blessed because of it. It is the hospitality shown in the Parable of the Good Samaritan, where a religious minority stops to care for a wounded man who belongs to a group that has avoided and shunned the Samaritans.

As I pondered the root of this Greek word, it struck me just how far from this idea we often are. Rather than loving strangers, we are encouraged to fear them. Our 24-hour news cycle especially loves to bombard us with stories that are filled with scary words and images. "This person/thing hurt/poisoned/stole from someone like you! Beware!" Politicians love to throw around the idea that the other side will destroy the world if given the chance. The overall message we are fed is that anyone who has a different religion, political opinion, sexuality, age, class, or education probably shouldn't be trusted and certainly not shown hospitality (at least not a hospitality that looks like "loving a stranger").

Certainly there are reasons and times to be cautious and act wisely, but I think there is a great difference between a posture that assumes anyone that's different is likely a threat and one that assumes most people are decent and worthy of respect.

Interestingly, Jesus came as a stranger into this world, unrecognizable as God because of how he was born and where he lived. John's gospel makes note of this and that most people "did not receive him." Jesus the stranger didn't find hospitality. But those who did welcome him became "children of God." In a sense, Christianity is based entirely on hospitality: on God's willingness to love us who are estranged and our willingness to love the strange God who shows up in a manger and dies on a cross.

And then we are asked to share that same hospitality with others on earth.

In this season, many of us are preparing to practice hospitality in our homes or to be received by the hospitality of others. Perhaps this Christmas season we can pause and consider what stranger we might welcome to our tables... and our hearts. Then the angels' proclamation of "Peace on earth! Goodwill to men!" might ring a little louder and richer.

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari

“If we can reach beyond the wisdom of this age into the foolishness of God, that foolishness will save.” -Rich Mullins, "Let Mercy Lead"

Living With Mystery (Blog on Job, Part 3)

New Orleans churchyard in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.

(This is part three of my blog on Job. You can read part one here and part two here.)

In the book of Job, the character of Job loses all he has because of afflictions from "the Accuser" who bets God that Job will curse Him if Job suffers enough. Job spends chapters arguing with his wife and friends about the reasons for his suffering and pleading with God to answer his prayers. In the third lesson assigned for reading in the lectionary this fall, God finally answers Job.

And what an answer it is.

"Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind: 'Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Gird up your loins like a man. I will question you, and you shall declare to me'" (Job 38:1-3). God proceeds to ask Job dozens of questions about the power of God. Can you measure the foundations of the earth or number all the clouds in the sky? Can you command the lightning or create a sea monster for fun?

God's response to Job is to put his questions in a broader context. The central tension that Job raises is “God is just” and “I am innocent.” The idea being that a just God wouldn't let an innocent person suffer. But God’s questions to Job undermine the very premise of Job’s complaint.

If you want to understand suffering, then can you first understand the complexities of the earth? Can you understand the tiny details of the galaxy and everything living in it? If not, then why do you get to decide what’s just? In this complex, crazy world, who said innocent people never face trouble? I'm God and I'm working with knowledge you can't possibly grasp.

God's questions to Job show there is a paradox we all live in. Each of us is unique and distinctly important to the world around us, but we are also largely insignificant in a world with billions of people and infinitely complex ecosystems. Therefore tragedies are both personal and massive. Disasters can hits thousands of people or cancer can infect millions and we can understand that most of the affects are random, but when they affect me or someone I love we can't help but look for a reason. 

And sometimes there isn't one. Sometimes, God suggests, there are enormous systems at play around us and we just get caught in the sweep. And if there is a reason, it is far more complicated that we can grasp. 

None of that is to say that God is unjust or uncaring, simply that the world is more chaotic and unpredictable than our reason-seeking brains would like and justice might not fit our simple definitions. Jesus himself says that the sun shines and the rain falls on the just and unjust alike (Matthew 5:45).

Martin Luther wrote that God had a visible side (deus revelatus) and a hidden side (deus absconditus). The visible side is what we can perceive and understand as humans, but most of God is hidden from us, Luther said, and the part we can see is only God's back. In Job, the writer lays the answer to much of life's suffering at the feet of the hidden God. How can we understand suffering when we cannot understand God?

On it's own, such an answer is unsatisfying. It smacks too much of the condescending adult who tut-tuts a child and says, "You just couldn't understand..." But that's why the revealed God is such an important part of this struggle.

Luther said that since we cannot know the hidden God, we must find faith in the God as God chooses to be seen by us and God chose to be revealed in Jesus Christ. Jesus makes it clear that God doesn't wish us harm and that we are loved. God is the business of promoting true life and inviting us to do the same. And in John 11, we see Jesus weeping at the tomb of his friend Lazarus, visibly disturbed by the pain death has caused. That's the revealed God: standing with us in our pain, joining us in our mourning, and promising that pain won't be the last word.

Job raises some deeply important questions that it cannot fully answer and we are still wrestling with thousands of years later. Ultimately there is mystery around suffering that we must content ourselves to dwell within for some time. We may not always understand suffering, but we are not alone when we suffer. We are not alone because the same questions are asked by millions like us. And we are not alone because God chooses to be found in suffering with us.

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari

“I want a reason for the way things have to be. I need a hand to help build up some kind of hope inside of me.” -Train, “Calling All Angels”

When God Doesn't Answer (Blog on Job, Part 2)

(This is part two of my blog on Job. You can read part one by clicking here.)

Last week, I mentioned that two great questions get raised by Job: Why has this happened to me? and Why would God allow this? In the second text assigned for reading in the lectionary this month, Job voices his pain when those questions go unanswered by God. 

In Job 23:1-17, Job cries out that God is not answering his prayers, saying, "If I go forward, he is not there; or backward, I cannot perceive him; on the left he hides, and I cannot behold him; I turn to the right, but I cannot see him" (vv. 8-9). These verses (echoed many other places in the book) capture why so many people read and study this book. 

Job asks one of the profound questions of faith: Where is God when we suffer? And why does it so often feel like God is distant in times of pain?

These are questions that I am asked all the time. They are questions that I ask all the time. 

They are questions that deserve careful examination because they are a part of everyone's lived experience. We all are afflicted at times with loss, pain, suffering, and disease. We will all likely think things can't possibly get worse only to be proven wrong. 

Because they are so universal, they are questions that have led to much spilled ink over the millennia (including the ink originally spilled to write Job) and it would be impossible to settle them in one blog post. (Job alone spends 42 chapters trying to answer these questions and still leaves them partly unanswered.) But there are a few points we can draw from the Bible in and around Job that help shape how we ask the question today.

When God Speaks, It's Rare

When we read the Bible, it seems as though God is answering prayers and saving the day left and right. God has prophets and priests and rulers hearing God's word and doing miracles all over the place. It can lead us to wonder why God has stopped speaking and acting as much today.

But if we look more closely, we see that many of the stories of the Bible the highlights in a long timeline, kind of like SportsCenter showing all the runs from a three hour baseball game in thirty seconds. In fact, there are long periods of silence from God within the Bible. The Israelites are enslaved in Egypt for generations; the period of Judges has years of suffering in between a few heroic battles; and there are four hundred years between the Old and New Testaments. 

God's silence seems to be the rule more than the exception for much of the Old Testament. Why that may be is hard to say, but it is clear that God does not speak out of burning bushes to every person in trouble, then or now. 

So does that mean that God just doesn't care? Does God ignore us most of the time? The Bible says "no," because...

When God Speaks, It's Hopeful

When God does speak in the Bible, it's often to offer comfort and hope. (God's response to Job doesn't really, but I'll get to that next week.) God makes it clear that he doesn't intend suffering for those who trust in God and promises that there will be a time when all we be right. Even if we don't experience justice or an end to suffering in this life, God's final word to us is hope.

In the Bible, God shows care for us in the midst of our suffering because God often sympathizes with us, joins us in our mourning, and cries over injustice in our world. Most importantly, we see God choose to physically enter our suffering and walk alongside us in the person of Jesus. Jesus seeks out those who suffer and answers their questions with himself. Rather than be indifferent, God promises to be present with us in this life.

But why then does it not always feel like God is with us in pain? Why does God feel silent?

When God Speaks, It's...To Voice Our Question? 

The Bible is filled with people and poems asking a version of Job's question. The Psalms are full of so-called songs of lament, crying for the God that feels distant. Perhaps the most famous of these is Psalm 22, which bears a great resemblance to the crucifixion of Jesus in the New Testament. In fact, the opening words of the psalm, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" are spoken by Jesus on the cross. 

And there is the great mystery and hope of this difficult question. The wrenching cry of "Where are you?" spoken by Job and the psalmists is also spoken by God the Son in his time of suffering. And the immediate answer is silence... and death.

The meaning of that moment in history is profound. Jesus shows that God hears our suffering, God comes near us in our suffering, and God experiences our suffering to the point of despair.

There are some who will say that asking the questions that Job and the Psalmists raise is a sign of weak faith or is unfair to God. They may say that we must simply trust "God's plan" and never question God. But when Jesus cries from the cross, he validates all of us who ever sit on the ash heap with Job and ask why we're there. Without offering the answer to why there is suffering to begin with, Jesus makes it okay to keep raising the question. Even without the example of Jesus, the author of Job is clear to say that Job "did not sin with his lips" (Job 2:10), meaning all of his questions did not separate him from God. 

One of the lessons of Job is that even when we get no answers, there is no sin in asking the question. Even if we get no answers, asking the question puts us in the company of Jesus. 

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari


"Cuz I, I got a question... I got a question: Where are you?" -Jars of Clay, "Silence"

Next time: Living with Mystery...

(If you are interested in exploring the question of God's presence in suffering in more detail, I strongly recommend two books. In "Where's God When It Hurts?," Philip Yancey asks this question very directly and uses Job to explore it in depth. For a fictional approach, read "Silence" by Shusaku Endo, a classic novel about Christians persecuted in the era of feudal Japan.)

Just Who Is This God Anyway? (Blog on Job, Part 1)

One of the gifts of using a lectionary to preach is I am given four texts to choose from each week. One of the curses of using a lectionary to preach is I am given four texts to choose from each week. 

There are times the lectionary offers up too many good texts to preach on or worse, texts that I know will raise difficult questions or concerns in the minds of those who hear them, but I cannot address the questions from different texts in one sermon. This month, our lectionary offers up some important and difficult lessons from Jesus in Mark's Gospel while at the same time giving us three weeks of lessons from the Book of Job, a book that raises all sorts of (cue the heavy, baritone narration...) deep, meaningful questions. Since I can only preach one sermon on Sunday and live to tell about it, I promised my congregation that I would blog on Job as a way of exploring those questions.

The first week's lesson was Job 1:1; 2:1-10, the prologue to this epic poem in which Job is identified as a righteous, wealthy man who loses everything and spends the rest of the book trying to figure out why. It has become a favorite study for many people because it seeks to address one of the universal questions of human experience: How do we explain suffering and evil in the world? 

Before going further, it's important to note that Job is almost certainly not an historical account. Most of the book is written in poetry and it has always been grouped with Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Songs, which are all books of poetry, philosophy, and wisdom, not histories. In other words, Job is a book that is trying to explore universal truth, not historical fact.

That can be important to keep in mind because Job opens with a disturbing scene. In a conversation with God, Satan (literally, "the Accuser") asserts that Job is only righteous because he is so healthy and wealthy. If he lost everything, the Accuser suggests, he would curse You to Your face. With God's permission (really?!), the Accuser sets about causing havoc to Job's life, destroying his family and wealth and inflicting him with a painful skin disease. After causing this trouble, the Accuser never appears in the book again.

The reader is left with two questions. First, Job asks, Why has this happened to me? Second, most readers ask, Why would God allow this? The book spends chapters exploring these questions, but (spoiler alert!) never really answers them clearly. Like many works of philosophy, the book of Job seems more interested in the questions than the actual answers. Still, there is much to draw from these early chapters to make reading worth our while.

Job's Faith in God

As Job ponders why he has come to tragedy, his interactions with his wife and friends provide an important exploration of the nature of God and faith.

His wife says, "Curse God and die." God for her was only as good as the blessings he provides and like an appliance that stops working, it's time to kick this one to the curb. What good is a god if that god stops working the way you want?

In her mind, God doesn't care and is hurting them for sport. The idea of a god toying with the lives of humans would not be a strange idea in the ancient world. It was expected. If you want an example, try reading a couple other ancient epic poems — the Iliad and the Odyssey. The Greek gods in mythology are every bit as petty and selfish as humans themselves.

His friends insist that he must have done something bad. Tragedy must have a source to blame and therefore Job must have sinned in some way.  If God isn't uncaring, then God is punishing Job for some reason. He should fess up and beg for mercy.

They echo many of us who want to find some reason or meaning for the suffering we see in the world. What have I/you/they done to deserve that?

But Job refuses to go along with either opinion. Instead, he repeatedly holds up two things he knows to be true: "God is just" and "I am innocent." How those can both be true in the face of tragedy becomes the central tension of the book. Job refuses to believe that God is petty or has stopped caring for him. He trusts that even if God is responsible for his suffering, because God is just, Job's cries for justice will be heard and answered.

God is just and Job is innocent.  How the book tries to answer that tension will be dealt with in the third part of this blog series. For now, Job's faith in God's justice and concern for human life is still an important cornerstone to this book and reading the Bible in general. Some of us may take it for granted, but the idea that God is not callous or distant, but is just and compassionate, was and remains a radical suggestion that deeply affects the faith of anyone who holds it as truth like Job.

God's Faith in Job

The remaining question of why God would allow the Accuser to afflict Job is one of the most troubling in the Bible. And, frankly, there is no good answer within the pages of Job. About the best that can be said is to try chalking it up to artistic license on the part of the author who was setting the stage for the story as efficiently as possible. But even that doesn't sit too well with me.

Despite the unease I feel with God's permission giving to evil, I do find a positive facet to God's interaction with the Accuser. The Accuser believes Job is a pushover, but God believes that Job will be faithful. What occurs to me is that God has faith in Job.

As a Lutheran, I was taught and I teach that there is nothing I can do to earn God's love, nor can I come to faith or God without the Holy Spirit drawing me there. I believe both of these, but I also recognize that they have at times been excuses for inaction. "Why do good if it doesn't change God's mind?" or "I don't want to appear like I'm trying to earn my way to God." 

But God's faith in Job reminds me that Jesus grants me grace and eternal life and trusts that it will change my heart to love as he loves me. In the same way, God entrusts the Church into human hands. And even though we make mistakes along the way, God has faith that, led by the Spirit, we will remain faithful even in times of strife. That God has faith in me is good news on days when it feels like I've been left on the ash heap with Job.

Next time: When God Doesn't Answer...

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“I’m looking for something that I didn’t notice was gone.” -Jets Overhead, “Heading for Nowhere”

The Bible as Story

The Bible is a central thing to Christianity. We read from it every week in worship. We speak about it in sermons and quote from it in our songs and prayers. Most denominations encourage individuals to have their own copy and read it regularly. And yet I often find that in conversation and study with people, many are still asking a very basic question: What is the Bible anyway? What kind of book is this?

Many people think of the Bible as a rule book that contains God’s commands for us to follow. Certainly there are “rules” or laws in the Bible (like Leviticus, Proverbs, and James), but there are huge sections of the Bible that aren’t. Some might call it a history book. Again, parts of it are history, but there is also poetry, letters, and symbolic books (like Revelation). Some like to think of it as a book of advice for living, but as Christians we believe that God is wanting to give us eternal life, not just advice. Some call it scary or confusing and they avoid reading it at all, but hiding from it doesn’t help us grow as people of God.

As I've read, studied, and taught this great book, I’m going to propose a different image that I've come to appreciate. I think the Bible is a storybook. 

Now before you go thinking that I’m calling this holy text a children’s book, let me explain what I mean by “story.” When I use the word “story,” I don’t mean something made up. Far from it. Stories are the narratives that shape our identity and tell us who we are. They are core to who we are as individuals and communities. Let me give you two examples.

*When I was growing up, I heard a lot of stories about the ministers in my family history. One was a missionary, two served in the Upper Midwest, and one taught at seminary. Hearing about their work gave me the sense as a young person that our family answers God’s call when it comes, we are proud to be Lutheran, and we value education. Those ideas shaped how I understood myself and my family and who I’ve become.

*As Americans, we tell stories about how we conquer adversity. From the Revolution to the Depression to Pearl Harbor, whenever America has struggled or been threatened, we pull together, work hard, fight back, and almost always win. Because we tell these stories, we believe we are a great country and that we can do anything. Those beliefs then shape our actions as a people.

The Bible tells us these kinds of stories. The stories of God’s people throughout time. Stories that shape who we are as God’s people today. They tell us the truth of how people have experienced God in their lives, how God has been active in our world, and how others have tried to describe God. Since we believe that God continues to reach out to us and be active in our world, these stories define for us who we are and how we fit into God’s continuing story of loving our world. 

Therefore, the Bible's stories are also our story because we continue to have many of the same experiences that God’s people did long ago. In the song "Cover to Cover," singer Wes King puts it this way: “I’ve stood strong like Daniel; I’ve fallen like David; I’ve wandered in the desert like the Israelites; I’ve denied You like Peter: I’ve struggled like Paul; run from You like Jonah, but You loved me through it all.” When we see ourselves as part of these stories, they take new relevance to our own lives in a way that just rules or advice cannot. They shape our actions and purpose. Open the Bible. Join God’s story.

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

"The more I read, the more I find, the more I have uncovered stories just like mine." -Wes King, "Cover to Cover"

(A version of this post first appeared in my church's newsletter in 2012. I decided to repost it as I've been reading "Shaped by the Story" by Michael Novelli, which has a similar thesis.)

How to Build Your Eulogy

David Brooks of the New York Times recently released a new book titled "The Road to Character" in which he explores stories of people whose moral traits he admires. The seed for the book, he says, came when...

It occurred to me that there were two sets of virtues, the résumé virtues and the eulogy virtues. The résumé virtues are the skills you bring to the marketplace. The eulogy virtues are the ones that are talked about at your funeral — whether you were kind, brave, honest or faithful. 

We are masters of building our resumé virtues, Brooks says, but are largely clueless about building our eulogy virtues. So he set out on a quest to fill his "moral bucket list."

I find his distinction between resumé and eulogy virtues to be very powerful because it strikes me as a secular way of stating what Jesus mentioned several times. In Matthew, Jesus tells a crowd to "store up treasures in heaven." And in Luke, Jesus warns about the troubles that come to those who store up riches for themselves, but "are not rich toward God."

Jesus invited people into a new way of life by talking about and demonstrating a life that wasn't defined by economic or political success, but instead led people to use words like hope and light and joy and love and freedom. God's interest in our lives, he said, leads us to prioritize the eulogy virtues and puts the resumé virtues in a proper (limited) perspective.

For most of my life, I've heard people lament that we work too much, are focused on the wrong priorities, etc., but it seems to me that more people are starting to publicly do something about it. There seem to be a growing number of stories about people taking less pay for jobs with "greater meaning" or arranging their lives for more time with family. Brooks seems to be one of those. And I hope that in the coming years, more of us will, too. How powerful would it be if our world was filled with people whose lives led others to use words like hope and light and joy?

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari

“Am I a part of the cure or am I part of the disease?” -Coldplay, “Clocks”

Lent, Easter, and Pentecost: Going Up, In, and Out

(This post first appeared in my church's newsletter in Spring 2015.)

A few years ago, I was at a conference where the speaker summarized the practices of a church congregation in three simple words: Up, In, and Out. Everything a congregation does, wants to do, and believes about itself fall into these basic categories, he said. Most churches will specialize in one or two, but all three are important to be a healthy church.

Up refers to individuals’ relationship with God and includes things like devotionals, Bible study, and prayer groups.

In refers to individuals’ relationships to each other and includes fellowship activities and community growth.

Out refers to a congregation’s relationship to the community and world and includes service projects, evangelism, and other outreach.

Ever since, I’ve found this to be a helpful tool to evaluate a variety of things: Do our upcoming programs include enough “up” opportunities? Have my sermons recently been focused more heavily in one area than the others? Is my own faith life leaning away from service or prayer or relationships? 

Up, In, and Out is a short and easy way to think about a lot of things related to being the church. As I sat down to write my newsletter article for the spring, it occurred to me they are also a good overlay for the coming seasons of the church year: Lent, Easter, and Pentecost. 

Lent, with its focus on spiritual discipline and “returning to God,” is a time of Up. In Easter, we read the stories of the early church and how they came together, learned how to be a new religious community, and grew; that’s In. Pentecost tells us the story of the Holy Spirit kicking open the doors and driving the church Out into the world to serve, greet, and love those who were not yet part of the church. 

Just as Up, In, and Out are all needed for a healthy church, all three are needed for a healthy personal faith, too. With that in mind, you may want to consider using these coming seasons as a chance to focus on these three areas in your own life. During Lent, if you don’t already, pick up a discipline, find a good devotional, carve out time to pray, or read a book in the Bible. In Easter, you could seek out a Cross+Generational event, attend a Bible study, or pledge to come to worship more often than you normally would. In Pentecost, volunteer at Tosa Cares or Serenity Inns, bring an item weekly for one of our collections, or just spend time walking your neighborhood and getting to know your own neighbors. 

Whatever you may choose to do, remember that Jesus has “gone ahead of you” so “you will see him” (Mark 16:7). Up, in, or out, God is present in every direction. As always, please share what you learn and experience with me or another sister or brother.

In God’s Amazing Grace,

Pastor Ari

“The whole universe is witness to only a part of what you’ve done.” -Downhere, “Let Me Rediscover You”