There are two comparison games going on.

The first asks us to think of people who have more than we do.

We see it on social media - where everyone looks like they’re in a beer commercial. Laughing with friends, enjoying exotic vacations, smiling children, and pricey restaurants. 

Comparing ourselves in this way can engender feelings of inadequacy, envy, and acquisitiveness, presuring us to improve ourselves to better compete. While this game is popular, alluring and easy to play it’s not healthy or satisfying.

The second comparison game asks us to consider people who have less than we do. 

We don’t always see these people, but when we do we can’t help but notice we’ve got better health, homes, even water and electricity. We have better educational opportunities and live in safer places.

Playing this game engenders feelings of gratitude, thankfulness, and generosity, inspiring us to altruism, charity, and the betterment of others before ourselves. While this game is not as popular and is harder to play, it’s healthy and satisfying.

Of course we do well to play less of game one than game two. 

When I was a teenager a spiritual mentor told me to pray for stuff.

Not just for mom and dad, good weather, and safety, but for cars, clothes, and money. Being young, I did so. And going to the church my mentor took me to, so did everyone else. We were taught that getting stuff was a sign of God’s favor. We were told to interpret the promise of Christ for ‘an abundant life’ quite literally -  to mean that faithful people got stuff. Back then it made a lot of sense.

But today I no longer pray that way.

I think it’s because of my personal observations of scripture. The more I know about Jesus, who was also quite fond of prayer, is that he didn’t pray for a new car (donkey?), clothes, or money. This is not to say that he did not pray for his desires, but that his desires didn’t primarily revolve around stuff.

This Sunday we’ll hear Jesus talk about prayer and desire. And we may ask ourselves what we desire? To be more forgiving, loving, kind, hospitable, sacrificial, and selfless? To see a more just, equitable, and healthy world? To see God’s will be done? Or is it to live in a bigger house, have a nicer car, or own nicer things?  

See any dissonance here?

When I’m tempted to begin my prayers for ‘stuff’ I remind myself to pray for Jesus to re-order my desires, to make them more attune to his. It’s because, like you, my deepest desire is to know, love, and live like Christ. And if he prayed like this, I suspect we want to too. 

My friend Brandon is an amazingly talented soldier.

He’s a Green Beret, an ace marksman, and consistently ranks tops in his class in fitness, strategy, and scholastics. He’s the best at his game - and he knows it.

Out on deployment, a crucial mission arose and his superior named his six, top soldiers for the assignment. Brandon was not one of them. And he was not happy.

He pulled his superior aside and said, “I know this is a crucial assignment. And you know that there’s not a more qualified, talented soldier on that squad than me. Why didn’t you choose me? Why didn’t I get selected?”

His superior said, “Sure you’re the most talented soldier on the squad. But you’re also the biggest complainer. I named this squad, in part, to see how you’d react. And instead of saying, ‘While you’re gone I’m going to resupply and organize things so we’ll be in better shape upon your return,’ you pulled me aside and acted like a prima donna. This makes me even more confident in my decision. And until you learn that you’re part of a team, this is how things will stay.”

When Jesus says, “I am the vine and you are the branches” he’s saying we’re all connected. We're part of a team, there's no room for prima donnas, for the greatest among us are those who serve.

As part of the Vine some of us are being pruned. Some are waiting for fruit to appear. Some are producing fruit that we're really proud of. But we are all part of something greater. 

So be encouraged friends. Let’s give pause to complaining. We’re part of life’s most fulfilling task: gratefully receiving the kingdom being brought into the world. 

What’s God want me to do?

Ever asked that?

Join the club...

Since the most important thing many of us will do today is attempt to hear God’s voice.

After all, hearing God’s voice is arguably the most important, and thus most difficult job, you and I have. We suspect this because the water we swim is one of unprecedented distraction, diversion, and detour. The ‘worldly forces’ that St. Paul and others warn us against are hard at work in the ways they seek to keep good people from doing good things. We see these forces tirelessly laboring, many of them economic, that have strong, vested interests, in you and I reciting their scripts.

But the heart of the spiritual life is hearing and heeding our own scripts. You know, that little voice inside that only you can hear. It’s steered you right before, and it seeks to do so again. As the Book of Proverbs says, ‘the spirit of man is the lamp of the Lord.’ We know  God guides, directs, advises, and channels the Spirit through us. Indeed, we are God’s home.

This fits in neatly with what we’re up to on Sunday. It’s ‘Good Shepherd Sunday’ - fittingly, it’s our Bishop’s visitation. He's our shepherd and even has the shepherd’s crook to prove it. Bishops embody for us the presence of the One who loves, cares and guides us.

However, if you’re like me, you may wish God spoke a bit louder and clearer at times. Because that doesn’t always happen, and because the continual job of the growing Christian is discernment, I’ve found it helpful to parse and test the voices.

I’ve jotted down some questions I’ve found helpful in making up my mind as we decide, ‘is this me or is this God?’ As I’m thinking about direction, I ask:

• Which alternative gives the most peace?
• What do your friends say?
• What do those closest to you think?
• Looking at a longitudinal map of your life, how does it fit in?
• Does it ‘feel’ right?
• Does it elicit feelings of dream or nightmare?
• Does it excite you?
• Does it depress you?
• What does it feel like in the morning? Night? Next week?
• Does it sound like ‘God’ or ‘me’?
• Is it a ‘hard road’ or an ‘easy road?’ (Many times, God leads us on the hard one)
• And finally, to the best of your ability imagine, were Jesus sitting near you, what would he say?

Know that the prayers of your priest, parish leaders, and bishop are with you as you do this hard work, the continual spiritual discipline of discernment.

This time of year often brings back memories of Spring canoeing.

I remember idle hours spent drifting around meandering bends, occasionally interspersed with the technical challenge of a rapid - those places where the terrain becomes steep and big rocks pop up turning the water white and sending it forward like a jet. 

At the end of those rapids a tranquil oasis can often be found called an ‘eddy.’ This is an undisturbed part of a river shielded by a rock or log where the water is placid and calm. Canoers frequently seek out eddys to regroup or rest from the chaos of shooting the rapids. Eddys are places to get your bearings and re-center.

I wonder if that’s what the newly resurrected Jesus had in mind when he kept re-appearing to his disciples? 

In our Bible readings last weekend and this, he made a big deal about wishing his haggard followers ‘Peace.’ Perhaps Jesus was creating an eddy for them to re-center around who they were and what they were doing.

In fact, one of our biggest challenges today is finding eddys - those places where we can chill and open ourselves up to the kind of centering that needs to happen for us to truly be present to ourselves and the world.

Jesus kept wishing his disciples peace because this is not our default setting, it’s something we need to work on with intent and discipline.

Where are our eddys? How important are they - and what are we doing to spend more time there?   

It’s a rallying cry that can still be heard among Texans facing long odds at a football games or political rallies.

This harkens to the day 5,000 Mexican soldiers surrounded 185 Texans, led by Davy Crockett, James Bowie, and Sam Houston. When asked to surrender they responded with the epic words, ‘Victory or death!’ Within a few hours the latter had prevailed. But the bravery and courage of those men are the stuff of legend.

That is, until some historians did some digging.

In his book ‘How Did Davy Die?’ author Dan Kilgore puts in writing what had only been whispered; that Houston was an alcoholic, Bowie was a deadbeat running from debtors, and Crockett had actually been taken alive. As a result Kilgore and fellow historian Jeff Long have been threatened, maligned and verbally attacked by Texans who prefer their heroes to be faultless - and the size of their state.

But knowing the truth of these larger than life brave men actually helps us relate to them more fully, and understand the nature of courage as accessible to you and me - and ‘not the absence of fear, but the resistance to it." (Jim Wallis)

After all, it would have been easier for Kilgore and Long to direct their historical curiosities to other areas of their Texas heritage, but in the end they do a great service to us all by sticking up for truth regardless of the cost - knowing that they, like the men they write about, are also exercising courage.

Churchill famously said that courage is, ‘what it takes to stand up and speak.’ And by this definition we find no better New Testament icon than the apostle Thomas, whose story we recall this weekend.

Time after time in the Bible, we see that Thomas exercises the kind of ‘stand up and speak’ courage that’s still in high demand today.

Courage to squarely assess what’s going on.

Courage to decide what makes sense and what doesn’t.

Courage to raise objections when things don’t add up.

The reward for truth-telling, in Thomas’ case, was a hallowed place in our Christian heritage. Not only does he have a place among the 12, but he gives us an example and challenge sorely needed today. 

In what ways do we need to stick our hands up and ask a question?

How is the Spirit promoting us to say, ‘Wait a minute, that doesn’t make sense.’

How are we being asked to be courageous in questioning the way things are unfolding in the world around us?

Dear Lord, may the work and witness of Thomas strengthen us to stand up and speak. 

A long time ago, in a jungle village in Mongolia, there lived an elderly woman and her son.

"My time has come" said the woman, "I must walk to the top of the mountain and meet the god of death."

Her son said, "Let me carry you, the voyage is too long for you to make on your own."

The elderly woman protested, saying that if her son also walked to the top of the mountain, the god of death could take him too.

So early the next morning, while the elderly woman was sleeping, her son stole into her room, put her on his back and, despite her protests, began the long trek up the mountain to see the god of death.

To make matters worse, the elderly woman was hanging onto branches and snapping them as they made their way up the trail, impeding their progress, and slowing them down.

"Stop that mother!" Her son said, "You will tip us over and we will get hurt! Is that what you want?"

After hours and hours of hiking, the elderly woman continuing to grab hold of branches, she and her son finally reached the top of the mountain, where the boy laid his mother down.

"Let me ask you one question," he said, "Why did you insist on grabbing all those branches, wasn't it enough that I took you up here? Aren't you grateful that we finally made it here?"

"My son," said the elderly woman, "You know that you must go quickly, for the god of death is here. Please see that I was not trying to impede our progress, I was concerned with you finding your way back to the village, so I marked the trail."

In the Paschal mystery we find God at work, moving beyond our understanding, working for good, working for us.

Our present adversities are not without value. Hang on. Easter is coming. 

Police say the burglar, who broke out a wooden window insert, destroyed a screen bracket, tripped our alarm, then wandered the hallways at St. David's before leaving out the front door in December, has been caught.

38-year-old Justin Hall of Pontiac was apprehended the same night he broke into the music office at St. David’s. Apparently he left our place and broke into a nearby office building - causing $7,000 worth of damage. Police arrested him there and he’s been in the Oakland County Jail ever since. Apparently he has been there before and suffers from several problems stemming from addiction.

I was informed of this by a court sentencing administrator who called asking what St. David’s wanted from Hall: Did we want him to pay for the minor damage he caused? Clean up the mud he tracked through the offices? Pay us some sort of restitution?

This Sunday is Palm Sunday, the pinnacle commemoration of Jesus’ triumphal march into Jerusalem, arrest, conviction, and crucifixion. Here we witness Jesus’ courage through adversity, ultimately forgiving his persecutors and bowing to the will of God.

When your parish leaders were polled regarding punishment for Hall, it was decided that we would ask for none, rather urge the court to mandate some sort of addiction treatment. We elected to forgive him for the damage and anguish he caused, trusting that God might work through therapists to bring about the needed healing. I’m immensely proud, though not surprised at this response from our leaders.

The approaching Holy Week reminds you and me of forgiveness - both the forgiveness we receive and the forgiveness we might give. We do well to ponder the ways we can pardon those who have offended us. Jesus had a knack for looking beyond offenses to the deeper work of God. ‘Forgive them for they know not what they have done,’ were his famous words upon the cross - how might we too look at the bigger picture by overlooking the offenses?  

Jesus wasn’t much of a complainer.

Once, in the Gospel of John he whined (well kind of) when he was about to be arrested.

He said, 'Now, my soul is troubled.’

Like I said, not much of a complainer.

But what he said after that is especially helpful.

Jesus believed that the tough times he endured actually had purpose.

This meant that Jesus not only refrained from complaining, but he actually urged God to get on with it, to bring on the trials, as if his job was to live into this purpose; ‘Father glorify your name.’

There’s not a tough time you and I face that Jesus is unacquainted with. He knows the trial and he knows there’s something to it.

So, what would it look like to face our trials like this?

What if we understood each of our trials as part of God’s purpose? Meaning that to complain was to go against that purpose?

Lord, we know complaining is not only unattractive, but it speaks of a lack of faith. So please give us pause when complaining and help us understand our trials as singular ways of bringing forth your purposes in the world. 

There was once a ship named Hope.

She had four captains.

The first was named Anger.

The second, Faith.

The third, Discouragement.

And the fourth, Confidence.

It's because all ships know that storms come.

They know that storms always bring great worry, fear, and instability.

And all ships know that these four captains are needed to bring the vessel through.

When the skies darken, Anger takes the helm.

And when the hatches are battened and the crew takes their stations, Faith appears.

When the waves start lashing the deck, Discouragement often takes over.

But as the crew works through the night, they do so with Confidence at the helm.

Friends, the storms come.

Instability in governments.

Uncertainty in our jobs.

Unpredictability in our relationships.

Even changes in our parish life.

And as the storms come we Christians instinctively reach for Hope.
So let us not be despondent but understanding that the journey has many phases, anger, faith, discouragement, and confidence. 

And let us remain firm in knowing that God is ultimately in charge, invisibly guiding the ship, assuring us that all things work for the good of those whom God loves.

A man entered an open-air market. 

He stopped at a table where a woman was selling insurance - life, home, and car. She was giving away little blankets to show the comprehensiveness of its coverage.

At the second table a man was offering timeshares. All were five star resorts in the most exotic places. He was giving away body lotion to signify the luxuriousness of his offerings.

A third table featured the brand new Apple Homepod, that allows people to simply speak a command, and instruct a computer to do the thinking and doing. The salesman was giving away free keyring-flashlights to show how convenient this new product was.

Then, all of a sudden a wild-eyed crazy man stormed into the market and began overturning tables and shouting all sorts of angry words.

He said he was furious at a system that promised false security, comfort, and convenience. 

He said all of it was a lie - arguing that promising this without mentioning the ultimate source of it all was false advertising and was more harmful than anyone could ever know.

He said he was going to tear it down.

Soon the man was led away in handcuffs.

People kept on shopping.