Readings:
Isaiah 55:10-13
Psalm 65
Romans 8:1-11
Devotional:
Douglas Adams once wrote, “I love deadlines. I love the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” Fitting for someone who had to be locked in a room with his editor for three weeks to meet his book deadline.
I also love deadlines. Or rather, I love to pretend I work best on a deadline. Give me all the information, let me procrastinate until the absolute last moment, let me then work on four other tedious tasks that have absolutely nothing to do with the actual work while I build up cortisol in my system, and finally then I can work from a panicked sense of urgency. Oh yes, let’s call that “working best” and the “most me.”
Somehow I’ve trained my brain and body that overwhelmed is the best state of creative synthesis. Flood the neural pathways with information and sensory stimuli, and that will definitely produce the best expression.
I wonder if we don’t use overwhelmed to our advantage. When the final result isn’t actually what we imagined, or when we find ourselves struggling with the same set-backs or mindsets that just seem to hang on, overwhelmed or busy become our own tired version of allowing ourselves grace. It’s as if being gracious to ourselves has to be earned by extreme conditions or unchangeable circumstances, which of course is the very opposite of grace. There aren’t percentage shifts (your day only required 10% grace), and we don’t have to stock up credits to cash in (here’s your monthly PTO of 4 hours of grace). Grace is no respecter of conditions or merit—it’s a fully extended constant, rooted in love.
For us to really get this concept, we have to transcend to the eternal “when” outside of creation. (Easy right? Just imagine not floating in non-space and non-time, no problem.) In this continuum, we have the Godhead—Father, Son, and Spirit. Three matters deeply here in our understanding of love. If we just had one, then love couldn’t exist until something else was created. Love would only be a subset of creation. Once the one god made mankind, then that god could deign to show us love. But because there are three, love is intrinsic to God. Love has a full and complete, shared expression contained in “I AM.” We can genuinely say, “God is love” because Father, Spirit and Son love each other perfectly as just themselves.
This changes everything for us, or it should. Now when we say God loves us, it should carry a different weight. We aren’t loved simply because we are created. We certainly aren’t loved because of how we perform. We are loved because it’s innate to God—there is no other option. So now back to grace. When we are loved by His virtue, as a constant without condition (good or bad), then we are also extended grace without condition. We don’t have to measure up to a standard of being. We don’t have to prove deserving. Grace is a natural and obvious extension of love. What God holds inherently, He gives freely. There’s no contempt toward us, merely the love that covers when God looks upon us.
This is the mindset we see in this week's passages by Isaiah, David, Paul and Matthew, and if we sit with it, it’s the mindset that lets us finally give ourselves and others grace.
Let's start with Matthew, because we already talked about this on Sunday. Remember the Parable of the Sower is so named because it’s about communion with the Sower. It shows us a Father’s heart that patiently, persistently hopes and remains with us: He understands everything that presses us down, that makes us hardened and settled, that imprisons us, that would rival for our attention, that would capture our trust. It showcases the promise of communion remaining, of all that God tends in His garden, of the life ahead.
So we know what the kingdom is like and has always been like: loving communion leading to life.
God assures Isaiah of His intent on life ahead. He says His Word won’t return empty. It’s going to do the thing it was Sent to do. It’s going to accomplish what it was meant to. In fact, look at how He describes the transformation. Where the land expected to see a thorn bush, a tumbleweed representing all that is unhealthy, instead we find cypress. Cypress, an evergreen which is resistant to decay, grows out of the unhealthy things. Or where the land expected nettles, the symbol of abandonment and neglect, we would find myrtle. Myrtle, another enduring evergreen that is resistant to rocky soil, grows out of the ignored and mistreated.
The overwhelmed version of us tries to think of ourselves as a dry, compressed wasteland, seeing only weary, abused and tired. Our imagination gets stuck presuming that our families, or our countries, or even entire ways of thinking among people are just lost causes, utterly lacking in health and regard. But those aren’t His thoughts, and that’s not His way. His way knows what will grow. His way abides. His way isn’t evaluating where to pour out a limited supply of water to the most needy resource; instead, He pours out thirst-quenching life across the earth. He looks across the whole of humanity and creation and can’t see anything to cut off.
Can you feel that love? Instead of using our overwhelmed conditions to beg for grace, we get to abide with God and watch in awe, shout for joy, at the kind of life that grows. It was a foregone conclusion that love and grace were shared to us, not a relented pity at our barrenness.
Our Psalm pushes against our overwhelmed-to-earn-grace mentality too. David writes that the words of iniquities— these are specifically distortions of the truth—prevail against him. But he reminds himself: his transgressions—those intended trust violations—those God forgives, completely covers, out of His eternal love. God would draw us near into His courtyard Garden, would let us enjoy His presence and holiness, even with the prevailing swirl of lies. And this time His Word is going to meet our tangled tares of overwhelm with stillness and peace. Peaceful silence will be before Him. Just like He commands the waves, He quiets the tumbling mindsets of the people with His commanding, calming voice. Abiding with Him brings peace to the disquieting. And just like with Isaiah, God’s trusted invitation extends to the extreme edges— all of creation, from dawn to dusk, come to Him.
Again, know His grace! We don’t have to be imprisoned in old lies or learned habits, even in our patterned ways of breaking trust in our relationships, in order to receive His stilling gentle might. We don’t succumb to the prevailing distortions around us to earn His restoration. No, His way is to visit the earth, to cause its abundance, to settle our ridges and soften us, to enrich us and bless our growth. His invitation is going forth across creation, across humanity, and it’s realized in our collected joy and awe in His presence.
Do you see the pattern yet? God’s love and grace is fixed. His regard is for us.
Paul puts it plainly: there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. No condemnation. We are set free — morally, mortally, ceremonially exempt from liability. Exempt means you didn’t take the test. Grace and love are not the byproducts of passing a test of how overwhelmed or needy we are. So rather than continue thinking we’re subject to condemnation, Paul urges us, “Change your mindset!” There’s no need to put requirements on receiving His grace or love. Abide in the Spirit, because that’s where life and peace are! Whereas if we insist on those same mindsets, if we insist on earning His grace and qualifying for His love, we’re going to find ourselves in opposition, fighting the very peace He offers.
Let’s think of it this way: if you assume someone is mad at you, your approach to them changes. You might avoid them, or you might change your language around them, or you might question what they say or do, but it’s all because you think that they are upset. Your tone might be tense or you might already have determined their answer before even asking the question. Because of your mindset, you are already defensive, already opposed, already hostile.
But Paul told us at the outset that there is no condemnation. There is no contempt as God extends love and grace in abiding with Him. We come as we are, confident that His intrinsic love doesn’t hinge on us, that His welcoming beckon to abide will be just as earnest and intended as ever. We come without hesitation or uncertainty of our standing because we abide with Him. And we do abide with Him. When Paul writes “if indeed” it’s like saying “if the sun rises in the East.” Of course we are in Christ Jesus, of course His Spirit dwells with us. Communion with God is shared to us freely; we are exempt from any qualifying condition. And right at the end Paul tucks in the gem: all of that abiding creates life where we thought there was none.
We have seen all along that love and grace were headed for us, the Word was going to accomplish its plan, life was going to come forth, we were going to dwell with Him.
We could approach Him with the built-up defenses of our weariness, the reasons ready to explain why we need His grace or why we don’t deserve His love, protesting His goodness while desperate for it, hoping we have earned the chance just this once to be near. Isn’t it easier then to simply be with Him? Couldn’t I exchange all my deadline-driven, last-minute stress of merit for the simple confidence of abiding?
The passages reinforce the same truth over and over: God chooses to be with us, extending love and grace outside of any obligation or requirement. He makes things grow just by His being. The condition of our soil, the supposed distance, the distorting lies, the violated trust… none of it changes the eternal faithfulness of His love and the enduring generosity of His grace. None of it hinders how He will pour out life again and again.
In that safe space, we can finally be gracious to ourselves, dwelling and abiding where we are fully welcomed. And what if then God expands our imagination to funnel that same grace and love to others? To our families? To neighbors and political parties? What life might grow that we didn’t foresee? What strength and enduring qualities might come forth that weren’t expected? What stillness and peace might expand over us? What confidence might our children approach us with, mindset assured that they too are unwaveringly loved? What might we actually create and express with His mindset and imagination?
Let us hope in His faithful tending, knowing He brings forth all that He plans and desires.
A Prayer for Each Moment
God Our Trust,
You draw us close so that we might be in awe of Your goodness. Give us eyes to see Your nearness and faithfulness, and give thanks.
Amen
A Prayer for Each Other
Our Father,
We find our comfort in You, the One who meets us in our solitude, who finds us in the far reaches, who waters the weary and dry parts of our life. You are our peace and gladness.
Amen
Blessing
May we be encouraged by His Spirit within us, giving us life and setting our minds on His ways.
Photo by Aleksey Boev on Unsplash
Isaiah 55:10-13
Psalm 65
Romans 8:1-11
Devotional:
Douglas Adams once wrote, “I love deadlines. I love the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” Fitting for someone who had to be locked in a room with his editor for three weeks to meet his book deadline.
I also love deadlines. Or rather, I love to pretend I work best on a deadline. Give me all the information, let me procrastinate until the absolute last moment, let me then work on four other tedious tasks that have absolutely nothing to do with the actual work while I build up cortisol in my system, and finally then I can work from a panicked sense of urgency. Oh yes, let’s call that “working best” and the “most me.”
Somehow I’ve trained my brain and body that overwhelmed is the best state of creative synthesis. Flood the neural pathways with information and sensory stimuli, and that will definitely produce the best expression.
I wonder if we don’t use overwhelmed to our advantage. When the final result isn’t actually what we imagined, or when we find ourselves struggling with the same set-backs or mindsets that just seem to hang on, overwhelmed or busy become our own tired version of allowing ourselves grace. It’s as if being gracious to ourselves has to be earned by extreme conditions or unchangeable circumstances, which of course is the very opposite of grace. There aren’t percentage shifts (your day only required 10% grace), and we don’t have to stock up credits to cash in (here’s your monthly PTO of 4 hours of grace). Grace is no respecter of conditions or merit—it’s a fully extended constant, rooted in love.
For us to really get this concept, we have to transcend to the eternal “when” outside of creation. (Easy right? Just imagine not floating in non-space and non-time, no problem.) In this continuum, we have the Godhead—Father, Son, and Spirit. Three matters deeply here in our understanding of love. If we just had one, then love couldn’t exist until something else was created. Love would only be a subset of creation. Once the one god made mankind, then that god could deign to show us love. But because there are three, love is intrinsic to God. Love has a full and complete, shared expression contained in “I AM.” We can genuinely say, “God is love” because Father, Spirit and Son love each other perfectly as just themselves.
This changes everything for us, or it should. Now when we say God loves us, it should carry a different weight. We aren’t loved simply because we are created. We certainly aren’t loved because of how we perform. We are loved because it’s innate to God—there is no other option. So now back to grace. When we are loved by His virtue, as a constant without condition (good or bad), then we are also extended grace without condition. We don’t have to measure up to a standard of being. We don’t have to prove deserving. Grace is a natural and obvious extension of love. What God holds inherently, He gives freely. There’s no contempt toward us, merely the love that covers when God looks upon us.
This is the mindset we see in this week's passages by Isaiah, David, Paul and Matthew, and if we sit with it, it’s the mindset that lets us finally give ourselves and others grace.
Let's start with Matthew, because we already talked about this on Sunday. Remember the Parable of the Sower is so named because it’s about communion with the Sower. It shows us a Father’s heart that patiently, persistently hopes and remains with us: He understands everything that presses us down, that makes us hardened and settled, that imprisons us, that would rival for our attention, that would capture our trust. It showcases the promise of communion remaining, of all that God tends in His garden, of the life ahead.
So we know what the kingdom is like and has always been like: loving communion leading to life.
God assures Isaiah of His intent on life ahead. He says His Word won’t return empty. It’s going to do the thing it was Sent to do. It’s going to accomplish what it was meant to. In fact, look at how He describes the transformation. Where the land expected to see a thorn bush, a tumbleweed representing all that is unhealthy, instead we find cypress. Cypress, an evergreen which is resistant to decay, grows out of the unhealthy things. Or where the land expected nettles, the symbol of abandonment and neglect, we would find myrtle. Myrtle, another enduring evergreen that is resistant to rocky soil, grows out of the ignored and mistreated.
The overwhelmed version of us tries to think of ourselves as a dry, compressed wasteland, seeing only weary, abused and tired. Our imagination gets stuck presuming that our families, or our countries, or even entire ways of thinking among people are just lost causes, utterly lacking in health and regard. But those aren’t His thoughts, and that’s not His way. His way knows what will grow. His way abides. His way isn’t evaluating where to pour out a limited supply of water to the most needy resource; instead, He pours out thirst-quenching life across the earth. He looks across the whole of humanity and creation and can’t see anything to cut off.
Can you feel that love? Instead of using our overwhelmed conditions to beg for grace, we get to abide with God and watch in awe, shout for joy, at the kind of life that grows. It was a foregone conclusion that love and grace were shared to us, not a relented pity at our barrenness.
Our Psalm pushes against our overwhelmed-to-earn-grace mentality too. David writes that the words of iniquities— these are specifically distortions of the truth—prevail against him. But he reminds himself: his transgressions—those intended trust violations—those God forgives, completely covers, out of His eternal love. God would draw us near into His courtyard Garden, would let us enjoy His presence and holiness, even with the prevailing swirl of lies. And this time His Word is going to meet our tangled tares of overwhelm with stillness and peace. Peaceful silence will be before Him. Just like He commands the waves, He quiets the tumbling mindsets of the people with His commanding, calming voice. Abiding with Him brings peace to the disquieting. And just like with Isaiah, God’s trusted invitation extends to the extreme edges— all of creation, from dawn to dusk, come to Him.
Again, know His grace! We don’t have to be imprisoned in old lies or learned habits, even in our patterned ways of breaking trust in our relationships, in order to receive His stilling gentle might. We don’t succumb to the prevailing distortions around us to earn His restoration. No, His way is to visit the earth, to cause its abundance, to settle our ridges and soften us, to enrich us and bless our growth. His invitation is going forth across creation, across humanity, and it’s realized in our collected joy and awe in His presence.
Do you see the pattern yet? God’s love and grace is fixed. His regard is for us.
Paul puts it plainly: there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. No condemnation. We are set free — morally, mortally, ceremonially exempt from liability. Exempt means you didn’t take the test. Grace and love are not the byproducts of passing a test of how overwhelmed or needy we are. So rather than continue thinking we’re subject to condemnation, Paul urges us, “Change your mindset!” There’s no need to put requirements on receiving His grace or love. Abide in the Spirit, because that’s where life and peace are! Whereas if we insist on those same mindsets, if we insist on earning His grace and qualifying for His love, we’re going to find ourselves in opposition, fighting the very peace He offers.
Let’s think of it this way: if you assume someone is mad at you, your approach to them changes. You might avoid them, or you might change your language around them, or you might question what they say or do, but it’s all because you think that they are upset. Your tone might be tense or you might already have determined their answer before even asking the question. Because of your mindset, you are already defensive, already opposed, already hostile.
But Paul told us at the outset that there is no condemnation. There is no contempt as God extends love and grace in abiding with Him. We come as we are, confident that His intrinsic love doesn’t hinge on us, that His welcoming beckon to abide will be just as earnest and intended as ever. We come without hesitation or uncertainty of our standing because we abide with Him. And we do abide with Him. When Paul writes “if indeed” it’s like saying “if the sun rises in the East.” Of course we are in Christ Jesus, of course His Spirit dwells with us. Communion with God is shared to us freely; we are exempt from any qualifying condition. And right at the end Paul tucks in the gem: all of that abiding creates life where we thought there was none.
We have seen all along that love and grace were headed for us, the Word was going to accomplish its plan, life was going to come forth, we were going to dwell with Him.
We could approach Him with the built-up defenses of our weariness, the reasons ready to explain why we need His grace or why we don’t deserve His love, protesting His goodness while desperate for it, hoping we have earned the chance just this once to be near. Isn’t it easier then to simply be with Him? Couldn’t I exchange all my deadline-driven, last-minute stress of merit for the simple confidence of abiding?
The passages reinforce the same truth over and over: God chooses to be with us, extending love and grace outside of any obligation or requirement. He makes things grow just by His being. The condition of our soil, the supposed distance, the distorting lies, the violated trust… none of it changes the eternal faithfulness of His love and the enduring generosity of His grace. None of it hinders how He will pour out life again and again.
In that safe space, we can finally be gracious to ourselves, dwelling and abiding where we are fully welcomed. And what if then God expands our imagination to funnel that same grace and love to others? To our families? To neighbors and political parties? What life might grow that we didn’t foresee? What strength and enduring qualities might come forth that weren’t expected? What stillness and peace might expand over us? What confidence might our children approach us with, mindset assured that they too are unwaveringly loved? What might we actually create and express with His mindset and imagination?
Let us hope in His faithful tending, knowing He brings forth all that He plans and desires.
A Prayer for Each Moment
God Our Trust,
You draw us close so that we might be in awe of Your goodness. Give us eyes to see Your nearness and faithfulness, and give thanks.
Amen
A Prayer for Each Other
Our Father,
We find our comfort in You, the One who meets us in our solitude, who finds us in the far reaches, who waters the weary and dry parts of our life. You are our peace and gladness.
Amen
Blessing
May we be encouraged by His Spirit within us, giving us life and setting our minds on His ways.
Photo by Aleksey Boev on Unsplash
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