So Much to See

January 26, 2010

Mark 8:1-26

A Sermon preached at Southminster Presbyterian Church

January 24, 2010
In addition to preaching the texts as they appear in our Year of the Bible reading schedule, I’m trying to preach texts that don’t ever appear in the lectionary. Some of the texts we’ve heard have been, quite frankly, weird, and it is easy to see why they didn’t make the lectionary, even if they are still God’s word to us. Some of the texts didn’t make the lectionary because a similar story from a different book was chosen instead. That’s our situation today.
This passage from Mark sounds familiar because there are similar versions in other gospels. But this particular passage never shows up in our 3 year lectionary cycle. And it is a long section, so we’ll break it down. Feel free to open your bibles and follow along as we put this all together.
The first section is the second feeding miracle Mark describes—two  chapters earlier, Jesus had also fed a crowd. So his disciples, theoretically, should have been ready, the second time around, when Jesus started asking them how much food they had in their picnic baskets. But they ask, “how can you feed these people with bread here in the desert?”
Jesus, despite the lack of comprehension of the disciples, does his thing and feeds 4,000 people with seven loaves of bread.
And, immediately, he and his disciples get in a boat and leave. Scholars aren’t sure where Dalmanutha was located, but when Jesus got there, the religious leaders ask him for a sign from heaven to test him. One might think that two feeding miracles might count as a possible sign, but apparently not. I don’t know how long Jesus had planned to stay on that side of the Galilee, but they get back in the boat and head back to the other side. Perhaps when faced with such unbelief, Jesus realized his time could be better spent elsewhere.
But then the feeding miracle, and the Pharisees request for signs, takes on new importance because the disciples forgot to bring more than one loaf of bread with them in the boat!
But Jesus reply is not to take the bread, bless it, and feed everyone in the boat. Instead he says, “beware the yeast of the Pharisee and the yeast of Herod”.
The disciples turn to each other and say, “he’s upset with us because we forgot to bring bread on the boat!
Jesus says, “what? bread? What are you talking about? Why are you talking about bread?”
Poor disciples.
Well, Jesus. There was that whole feeding thing you just did on the other side of the lake. And now we’re in a boat and don’t have much food with us and we’re kinda hungry. And you just mentioned yeast. So that’s why we’re talking about bread.”
We’re like the disciples most of the time, I think. We get so bogged down in the anxiety of the details of the moment that we don’t see bigger things around us. Yes, there are bigger things going on around us, but what are we going to have for lunch?!!
Jesus says, “Do you still not understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes and fail to see? Do you have ears and fail to hear? So you not remember?”
He wants the disciples to respond differently than the Pharisees. He wants them to realize that signs of God’s abundance are everywhere around them. They just need to open their hearts, open their eyes, and open their ears. He wants them to see that the miracles aren’t just in turning seven loaves into food for 4,000. The miracle of God’s abundance is visible all around us—if only we have hearts open to receive, eyes open to see, and ears to hear.
And nothing closes our hearts, eyes, and ears faster than anxiety and doubt. When you close your heart to the people around you, you will feel very isolated. When you look around the world and expect to see scarcity, you will. When you listen for despair and hopelessness, you will hear it.
The Pharisees had neither eyes to see or ears to hear stories of God’s abundance and presence. They had determined that they were the judges of where God was working in the world and demanded a sign from Jesus. But the reality is, they wouldn’t have seen any possible sign he would have given them. Because their hearts were closed. Their eyes were closed. Their ears were closed.
There is a similar scene in the final book of CS Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia series, “The Last Battle”. As the Narnians are fighting their final battle, their world has been divided by characters who spread falsehoods and lies. And so, some of the characters decide they won’t believe in anything. The dwarves say that “it is the dwarves for the dwarves” and not for anyone else.
After the battle, a number of characters, including the dwarves, are in a paradise, or perhaps even heavenly place. Their health is returned. The air is clean and clear. The fruit on the trees is better than the best fruit they’ve ever had. And Aslan the Christ-like lion is there too. But the dwarves don’t see any of it. They think they are still in a stable. Here’s a passage from the book:

“Well if that doesn’t beat everything” said the dwarf. “How can you go on talking all that rot? Your wonderful Lion didn’t come and help you, did he? Thought not. And now—even now—when you’ve been beaten and shoved into this (stable), just the same as the rest of us, you’re still at your old game. Starting a new lie! Trying to make us believe we’re none of us shut up, and it ain’t dark, and heaven knows what.”

The followers of Aslan regroup when they realize they can’t make the dwarves see, hear, or sense the truth. They ask Aslan to do something for them.

He says, “I will show you what I can, and what I cannot do.” He came close to the dwarves and gave a long growl; low, but it set all the air shaking. But the dwarves said to one another, ‘hear that? That’s the gang at the other end of the stable, trying to frighten us. Don’t take any notice. They won’t take us in again!’
“Aslan raised his head and shook his mane. Instantly a glorious feast appeared on the dwarves knees: pies and tongues and pigeons and trifles and ices, and each dwarf had a goblet of good wine in his right hand. But it wasn’t much use. They began eating and drinking greedily enough, but it was clear they couldn’t taste it properly. They thought they were eating and drinking only the sort of things you might find in a stable.”
Eventually, the dwarves get in a fight because each one is convinced that the others have better food than he does. After the fight, one says, “At least we haven’t let anyone take us in. The dwarves are for the dwarves.”
“You see,” said Aslan. “They will not let us help them. They have chosen cunning instead of belief. Their prison is only in their own minds, yet they are in that prison; and so afraid of being taken in that they cannot be taken out.” (C S Lewis, The Last Battle selections from pp145-148 (Collier, NY 1980)).

Like the dwarves that do not recognize Aslan when he is standing in their presence, so too do the Pharisees miss seeing Jesus. They want a sign, and God has given them a sign and that sign is Jesus Christ. But they don’t recognize him even when he’s in their presence.
And Jesus wants to make sure that his Disciples have more sense than that. He wants to make sure they are using their senses better than that.
So Jesus gives his disciples a teachable moment. “Do you not remember?  When I broke the 5 loaves for the 5,000, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?”
“Twelve”.
“And the seven for the 4,000—how many baskets full of leftovers then?”
“seven”.
“Do you not yet understand?”

I think the clear answer to Jesus on that question is “no, Jesus. We don’t.”
But I think what he’s trying to tell them, trying to tell us, with his questions, is that our worries about not having enough bread in the boat completely miss the point—in each of those situations, scarcity—the worry that you don’t have enough, that you aren’t enough—scarcity is shattered by the abundance of Christ. A few loaves become so much food you’re searching for baskets in which to put the leftovers.
Jesus is calling his disciples to have eyes to see that abundance around them. To remember those moments when the myth of scarcity and anxiety are shattered by abundant grace and love.
But you have to have eyes to see. Like the dwarves in CS Lewis’ book, who are sitting in paradise and think they are in a stable, God can only lead us so far. God can only provide the abundance. We have to be the ones to recognize it, to see it.
So then our text ends with a healing in Bethsaida.  A nameless blindman is brought to Jesus. The question Jesus asks him midway through the healing is “can you see anything?”
And Jesus asks us the same question.
Can you see anything?
Do you understand?
This particular healing takes place in stages. At first glance, you wonder if Jesus did it wrong the first time and had to try again. But I think we should see the steps in this healing as a metaphor for the process it takes us to see things clearly. The man can only see partly at first. He can see people, but not with any detail. So Jesus touches him again, the man looks hard, and his sight is restored.
In this particular healing, in light of the text that has come before it, it seems that sight is also a metaphor for insight. It is a reminder for us, perhaps, that even if we have 20/20 vision, we still have to look intently, as the man in Bethsaida did, to really see clearly. The people without sight in this text are probably the Pharisees, and perhaps even the Disciples at some moments.
As you look around your world this week, keep your eyes open for signs of God’s abundance. I don’t mean piles of money lying in the road. But look for gifts and blessings, even in the midst of any spiritual or physical hunger or anxiety you may be feeling.
If you listen to the stories from Haiti these past weeks, there are people who have lost everything. everything. And yet, they gather in the streets and praise God for life. For water shared by neighbors. For food, however they find it.
And you don’t have to go to Haiti to see this. I see it every day. People in hospitals, who have all sorts of reasons for despair, yet see blessings in their lives.
My prayer this week is that we all may have eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts open to receive the abundant blessings of God. Amen.


So Many Voices

January 11, 2010

A sermon preached at Southminster Presbyterian Church

January 10, 2010

Proverbs 1:1-16, 20-23
“The proverbs of Solomon son of David, king of Israel:
For learning about wisdom and instruction, for understanding words of insight, for gaining instruction in wise dealing, righteousness, justice, and equity; to teach shrewdness to the simple, knowledge and prudence to the young—
Let the wise also hear and gain in learning, and the discerning acquire skill, to understand a proverb and a figure, the words of the wise and their riddles.

The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction.

Hear, my child, your father’s instruction, and do not reject your mother’s teaching; for they are a fair garland for your head, and pendants for your neck.  My child, if sinners entice you, do not consent.  If they say, “Come with us, let us lie in wait for blood, let us wantonly ambush the innocent; like Sheol let us swallow them alive and whole, like those who go down to the Pit.  We shall find all kinds of costly things; we shall fill our houses with booty.  Throw in your lot among us; we will all have one purse”— my child, do not walk in their way, keep your foot from their paths; for their feet run to evil, and they hurry to shed blood.

Wisdom cries out in the street; in the squares she raises her voice.
At the busiest corner she cries out; at the entrance of the city gates she speaks:
“How long, O simple ones, will you love being simple? How long will scoffers delight in their scoffing and fools hate knowledge?  Give heed to my reproof; I will pour out my thoughts to you; I will make my words known to you.”

The text Justin just read for us is from our Year of the Bible reading from Proverbs.
But, before we leave the lectionary again, I want to make note of what today is on the liturgical calendar. Today is the baptism of the Lord Sunday, when we remember Jesus’ baptism in the River Jordan by his cousin, John the Baptist.
Last year, we heard Mark’s account of the baptism. Today, let’s listen to Luke’s account, from chapter 3, beginning in verse 21:

Luke 3:21-22, 4:1-13

Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.”
Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’”
Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, “To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please.
If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.”
Jesus answered him, “It is written,
‘Worship the Lord your God,
and serve only him.’”
Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here,
for it is written,
‘He will command his angels concerning you,
to protect you,’
and
‘On their hands they will bear you up,
so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’”
Jesus answered him, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”
When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.

Proverbs is a book of wisdom. This is a genre of literature that is elsewhere in the Bible—Job, Ecclesiastes, Song of Solomon, etc—but it is also a genre of literature found outside of scripture, in other neighboring cultures. Egypt, particularly, produced a lot of wisdom literature, back in the day.

Proverbs claims to be written by Solomon, and perhaps that is so. Earlier in our Year of the Bible readings, we learned that he was credited with writing over 3,000 proverbs (1 Kings 4:32). Perhaps these are among that very large number. If so, that makes him the Stephen King of Proverbs.

In any case, the goal of the proverbs is to both instruct people in the ways of Wisdom and to instill people with a Fear of the Lord.

And it is written in “family” language—a father instructing his son to listen to his parents!
Perhaps, parents, you could consider parts of Proverbs to be a “greatest hits” of the things we tell our kids—
Put on your coat!
Wear clean underwear!
If all your friends jumped off a bridge, would you do it too?
Make Good Choices!

I am kidding, sort of.
But there is something about families that fill us with advice. We want the ones we love to do well. We want them to be healthy, wealthy, and wise, as it were. We don’t want them to go through the heartbreak we’ve experienced.

We want the ones we love to listen to Wisdom as she stands on the corner crying out. We don’t want them to hang out with those ne’er do well thugs.

Note that in the book of Proverbs, we aren’t the wise parents. Or Wisdom herself. We are the unnamed youth who is being instructed to listen to the right voices. We can listen to wisdom. We can listen to our parents. Or we can listen to the thugs who hang out on the street corners with their pants sagging.

While the book of Proverbs talks about fools and teaching shrewdness to the simple, there is also instruction to those who are already wise. “Let the wise also hear and gain in learning”.  However much (or little) common sense we already seem to possess, the author of Proverbs wants to remind us that we can always learn. That as long as we are on this journey called life, we are called to continue learning. We are called to keep trying to choose wisdom over foolishness.

Jesus has a similar situation. Conflicting voices are competing for his attention as well. He can listen to the voice of his father—‘you are my son, the beloved. With you I am well pleased”. Or he can listen to the voice of John the Baptizer, which we heard last month during Advent, calling people to live a life worthy of the kingdom of God.

But Jesus’ baptism is different than ours. I hope. Because as soon as his baptism is over, he is led by the Spirit into the wilderness, where he fasted and is tempted by Satan for 40 days.
Or maybe it was just like your baptism. I don’t know.

But Jesus is dealing with conflicting voices, just as the unnamed youth in Proverbs. Just as we do.

Does he listen to the tempting voice of Satan, the tempter, who offers him fame, fortune, and, power? Or does he remember the voice of his parent, “you are my beloved son. With you I am well pleased.”?

We probably think—he’s Jesus—of course he was going to make the right decision!
But comparing these texts this week, I thought about God’s role as parent in this story. God has just told Jesus, “you are my beloved child, with you I am well pleased” and then that Spirit takes Jesus out in to the wilderness. “We know nothing good ever happens in the wilderness! What is he thinking, going out there?!!!”
But God the parent just sits back, thinks, “I’ve instructed him in wisdom, he knows how much he is loved, and I’m sure it will be fine.” deep breath.

And then, like all parents who can’t quite fall asleep until their teenager safely parks the car in the driveway, God waits those 40 days while Jesus is out, hearing all of those other voices.

Jesus does manage to listen to the correct voice. The devil’s offer of fame, power, and wealth doesn’t over power the voice of God, “you are my beloved child. With you I am well pleased.”

Jesus heard the right voice, but we often live our lives as if God’s voice is a distant memory. Or as if we think God were talking to someone else.

One of our understandings of baptism is this—when we are baptized, we are joined with Christ in his baptism. Which means that our lives are bound with his and his with ours. His resurrection will become our resurrection. Our sufferings are his sufferings.

And I’ve said this before, and you’ll hear me say it again. But when God tells Jesus, “you’re my beloved child and with you I am well pleased”, God is telling us the same thing.

Our baptism in this water, or in whatever font where you were baptized, is a baptism into the family of God. We are not God’s beloved children because we’ve earned the right to be. We are not God’s beloved children at the exclusion of some of the other children on this planet. We are God’s beloved children because of the mysterious and unmerited grace of God.

And sometimes that voice from the heavens, reminding us of the love and pleasure God takes in us, sometimes that voice is overshadowed by the voices in the wilderness. Like the unnamed youth in Proverbs, like Jesus in the wilderness, we are called, each day, to listen, again and again, for the right voice. We are called, each day, to follow the right voice.

Last year the children helped me pass out little beads of water so that you could take them home and remember your own baptism whenever you saw your water bead. The font is full, again, with beads of water for you. If you didn’t get one last year, or if you just want another, I invite you to come up to the font and get one during our next hymn.

And above all, in whatever wilderness you may find yourself, listen for the voice of Wisdom, the voice of God, and remember that you are God’s beloved child. In you God is well pleased. Alleluia. Amen.


Epiphany and Behemoth

January 3, 2010

A sermon preached Jan 3, 2010 at Southminster Presbyterian Church
Boise, Idaho
Job 40-42 (selected verses)
And the LORD said to Job:

“Shall a faultfinder contend with the Almighty?

Anyone who argues with God must respond.”

Then Job answered the LORD:

“See, I am of small account; what shall I answer you?

I lay my hand on my mouth.

I have spoken once, and I will not answer;

twice, but will proceed no further.”

Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind:

“Gird up your loins like a man;

I will question you, and you declare to me.

Will you even put me in the wrong?

Will you condemn me that you may be justified?

Have you an arm like God,

and can you thunder with a voice like his?

“Look at Behemoth,

which I made just as I made you;

it eats grass like an ox.

Its strength is in its loins,

and its power in the muscles of its belly.

It makes its tail stiff like a cedar;

the sinews of its thighs are knit together.

Its bones are tubes of bronze,

its limbs like bars of iron.

“It is the first of the great acts of God—

only its Maker can approach it with the sword.

“Can you draw out Leviathan with a fishhook,

or press down its tongue with a cord?

Can you put a rope in its nose,

or pierce its jaw with a hook?

Will it make many supplications to you?

Will it speak soft words to you?

Will it make a covenant with you

to be taken as your servant forever?

Will you play with it as with a bird,

or will you put it on leash for your girls?

Will traders bargain over it?

Will they divide it up among the merchants?

Can you fill its skin with harpoons,

or its head with fishing spears?

Lay hands on it;

think of the battle; you will not do it again!

Any hope of capturing it will be disappointed;

were not even the gods overwhelmed at the sight of it?

No one is so fierce as to dare to stir it up.

Who can stand before it?

Who can confront it and be safe?

—under the whole heaven, who?

Then Job answered the LORD:

“I know that you can do all things,

and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted.

‘Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’

Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand,

things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.

‘Hear, and I will speak;

I will question you, and you declare to me.’

I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear,

but now my eye sees you;

therefore I despise myself,

and repent in dust and ashes.”

This week the church will celebrate Epiphany. Epiphany is Greek for an appearance or a manifestation. Epiphany is also known as the 12th day of Christmas, and the date when the 3 wise men arrive to visit the young Jesus.
But if you noticed, the text we read this morning had nothing to do with wise men or Jesus. After a brief return to the lectionary for Advent, we jump back today into the Year of the Bible readings. And we’re approaching the end of the Book of Job in our readings.
Job is an interesting book, and is unique in the canon of scripture. Scholars aren’t sure about when it was written, or about who wrote it, but there are parallel stories in other contemporary Middle Eastern cultures.
Job, rather than a book of history, should be seen as a parable, perhaps. Or an epic poem, in which age old questions are pondered.
Job was a good guy—better than you and me. He was without fault before God and he was very blessed. A big family. loving wife. lots of cattle, sheep, goats, camels. You name it—big screen TV’s, riding lawn mower, platinum card—he had it all. He was also known for his great faith.
And one day in the heavenly courts, one of the heavenly beings says to God, “I know you like your servant Job, but I think he only likes you because you have blessed him with so much. Why wouldn’t he like you? He’s got the perfect life.”
And so begins the wager.
How will Job respond when his family dies? When his livestock and fields are destroyed? When he loses all that he has?
Job’s friends show up and sit with him in silence as he grieves. But then they decide silence isn’t enough and start giving helpful advice—“your children must have sinned—that’s why they died.”
“You must have cheated people. Because we know that God rewards the righteous and punishes the wicked”.
“Just face it, Job. You must have done something for this to happen.”
But Job won’t accept that. He doesn’t know about the divine wager, but he knows that sometimes bad things happen to good people and that it is so not helpful for people to just explain things away.
Job doesn’t lose his faith.
But Job does say, “okay, if I have done something to God to deserve this, then God should come down here and tell me what I did.”
The book of Job employs courtroom language. Job wants to face his accuser. He wants his friends to stop it with their hearsay evidence and he wants God to answer.
And so we get our epiphany, our divine appearance.
It isn’t a star in the heavens to guide the wisemen, in this instance. But God answers Job out of the whirlwind. The text you heard this morning is actually God’s second speech to Job. The first can be found in chapter 38 and 39 and it is a beautiful piece of literature that I invite you to look at it this week. In the first speech, God takes Job on a tour of the cosmos and through all of creation, and then asks him, “now how many horses have you invented, Job? Where were you when I set the earth on its course in the heavens? How well can you explain to me why penguins can’t fly?
And Job withdraws his lawsuit. In the face of creation and his very small role in it, Job is humbled, tells God that he’s sorry, and then repents in dust and ashes.
Job asked for an epiphany, and he got one. But not, presumably, one he would have scripted for himself.
His grand tour of creation included two mythical creatures. Behemoth and Leviathan are creatures of chaos, completely outside the control of humanity. You might be able to put a harness on an ox to plow your fields, or make pets out of dogs and cats, but Behemoth and Leviathan cannot be domesticated. But God considers them to be a beautiful part of God’s creation. Listen to how God describes Behemoth—“It is the first of the great acts of God”.
This seems to be in opposition to the account of creation in Genesis—where humanity is put in charge of stewardship over creation. In Job, humanity is no more important than the onager, the duck, or Behemoth. In contrast to Genesis, Behemoth is the first great act of God, not Adam, not humanity.
It seems as if this epiphany is God’s way of saying, “yes, human creatures, I made you too. And I love you. But I don’t only love you. And perhaps you shouldn’t think so highly of yourselves”.
Maybe this call to humility is a good way to begin our New Year. As we make resolutions about how we are going to interact with each other, how we’re going to treat the planet entrusted to our care, and how we’re going to live in this new year, perhaps an epiphany of humility could be helpful.
People have long turned to Job to ponder the question of why bad things happen to good people.
The question of where is God in tragedy is one with which we still struggle. Yet I find comfort in the idea that people were wrestling with the same issue thousands of years ago when Job was being written. It suggests that the reason we don’t have an answer to that question—not because we haven’t put our smartest minds to the problem—but because, perhaps, the mystery of God is not something we understand this side of eternity.
But some things are clear.
God doesn’t mind faithful people calling for answers. God doesn’t promise we’ll like the answers, or even understand the answers, but God doesn’t critique Job for wanting to understand. It is always okay to cry out to God for an epiphany.
God does not, however, like it when people like Job’s friends try to explain away the mystery of God. Their pat answers, presuming they know the mind of God, are what cause God to take offense. God tells Job’s friends, “my wrath is kindled against you for you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has.”
And then the story of Job ends. We are told that God restored his fortunes. He ends up with twice as much as he had originally, including 10 new children. Listen to the last verses of Job’s story:
“The LORD blessed the latter days of Job more than his beginning; and he had fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, a thousand yoke of oxen, and a thousand donkeys.

He also had seven sons and three daughters.

He named the first Jemimah, the second Keziah, and the third Keren-happuch.

In all the land there were no women so beautiful as Job’s daughters; and their father gave them an inheritance along with their brothers.

After this Job lived one hundred and forty years, and saw his children, and his children’s children, four generations.

And Job died, old and full of days.” (Job 42:12-17)
I can’t imagine what it took for Job to raise this “replacement” family. After the loss he’d already faced, it must have been a huge act of courage to give his heart to these new children. But Job’s tour of creation has changed him as a parent. Now that he’s approaching his life with some post epiphany humility, he seems to value all of his children—even Job’s famous daughters. The text tells us that even his daughters receive an inheritance from their father. Nobody in the ancient world was doing that.
The story of Job ends on a positive note, but it still leaves me feeling uneasy. 42 chapters and a few thousand years later and we’re still wanting answers. Yes, God, we’ll try to be more humble in the face of the wonder of your creation, but we still are left with the same questions. Why do bad things happen to good people? Worse yet, why do good things happen to bad people? We are still left crying out for an epiphany.
In a few moments, we’ll gather around this table to share communion. And as we remember Jesus, the son of God, through the meal he shared with his disciples, we have the opportunity for yet another epiphany. Again, not the star in the east, but an appearance, revealing, or manifestation of God, nonetheless. Perhaps as God heard our questions, our lament, our frustration with the ways of this world, God realized his answer to Job was only good to a point. The world needed a different kind of epiphany. We needed to see God in new ways. And so God became flesh and dwelt among us. God in Jesus suffered the way we suffer. God in Jesus celebrated the way we celebrate. God in Jesus held friends as they cry, just as we do.
It may not answer the questions about why bad things happen to good people, but it does answer the question to where God is in the midst of it. God is right there with us, in the midst of it, experiencing it as we do.
I’d like to wish for you that 2010 will be nothing but happiness and roses. But I can’t do that. Because I know that there will be difficult times too. What I can wish for you in 2010 is that through it all, the good and the bad, you will feel God’s presence with you in the midst of it. May it be so. Amen


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