Growing into my questions…

“Tell me your story”

I recall sharing my life story with a very wise man one afternoon in my mid-twenties. After I rambled for 20 minutes or so, trying to capture the sense and thrust of my unique story,  he responded.  A few affirmations, observations, and even a challenge or two. His first noticing still lingers with me today.

“Rob, it seems like growing up you knew all ‘the answers’ before you knew what ‘your questions’ were. I bet that is very confusing for you.”

I had never thought about it quite that way before, but his words deeply resonated with me.

He paused for a moment and then continued, “I suspect your growing up into Christ is going to look a lot like growing into your questions… and then bumping into the Spirit and his kindness already there ahead of you, amidst the questions of your life.”

30 years later, this framework has yet to disappoint as a way to see God’s formation in my life. This “growing into my questions” has often been the way the Spirit has graciously met me along the way. Read More

What Ariat Accidentally Preached

I’m watching an NFL game—Rams versus 49ers—and I find myself rooting hard for San Francisco. I need them to win. They don’t.

As the fourth quarter unfolds and the tension builds, a commercial comes on that nearly knocks me off my seat. The 49ers quarterback is shown walking up a hill, and then these words are heard: Don’t let the world tell you who you are.

It turns out to be an ad for Ariat boots and clothing. I wear Ariat boots. I’m not a cowboy, but I do know great quality when I try it on. And yes—you’re 100% correct—I look good in those boots.

Little did I expect to hear a national company sound like the Apostle Paul in an ad for western wear, but there it was:

Don’t let the world tell you who you are.

Yet Christianity has always offered something more complicated than rugged individualism. Scripture does not deny individuality, but it refuses to make the self the center of identity. Read More

Where are you?

They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man, and said to him, “Where are you?”

Genesis 3:8–9

 

Adam and Eve have just eaten of the tree that God has commanded them not to eat of—perhaps the most disruptive moment in the history of humankind. The story goes on to say that their “eyes were opened” and they became “ashamed of their nakedness.” Then Adam and Eve hear God enter the Garden and immediately they hide in the trees. God calls out to Adam, “Where are you?”

Now what is God asking? Has God lost track of Eve and Adam? Read More

They Stayed

On Good Friday, the gospels ask us to notice who remained. Not the crowds who shouted. Not the disciples who promised loyalty and then scattered into the shadows. The ones who stayed were the women—standing at a distance, close enough to see, close enough to grieve, close enough to be marked forever by what they witnessed.

John’s gospel writes with almost startling simplicity: “Standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother… and Mary Magdalene.” 1 Matthew and Mark quietly confirm it: when the others scattered, these women stayed.2 Good Friday is not only about Jesus’ suffering, but it is also about the courage of presence. It is also about the courage of those who refused to look away.

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The Legend of Judas

I’ve never met someone named Judas. John, Peter, Matthew, Thomas, Levi—these are people whom I know. But never Judas. His story is an enigma, an outright confusing puzzle, not because of what he did, but because Jesus chose to invite him to follow. In Luke’s list of disciples, he names him “Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor” (Luke 6:16).  Not who was a traitor—but who became one. Jesus chose him before the ending was known, before betrayal hardened into history.

 

Jesus didn’t gather admirers or spectators. He called followers: people who would walk with him, walk alongside him, and walk forward into the mission of God. Which raises a troubling question: Why then would Jesus choose one who would “become a traitor?” Perhaps this is the wrong question because we could say of Thomas: “Why would Jesus choose one who would become a doubter?”  Of Peter: Why would Jesus choose one who would become a denier?”  Lent presses us to notice not only those who fail—in truth, almost all the gospel stories show us that all the disciples failed, misunderstood, or fell short one way or another. Read More

Nicodemus: The Long Way Around Faith

He came at night.

Not because he was wicked.
Not because he was hostile.
But because he was careful.

Nicodemus was a serious man—trained in Torah, disciplined in lifestyle, respected as a teacher of the law.  He knew the scriptures by heart. He had practiced faith through repetition and ritual. He had devoted his life to learning what God had said and guarding what God had given.

And yet, something in Jesus unsettled him.

“Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God…” —John 3:2

Notice the language: we know. Nicodemus spoke for a class of people—teachers, leaders, the spiritually accomplished. His faith was accurate, informed, orthodox. He admired Jesus. He even defended him later in John 7:50–51. And after the crucifixion, he helped care for Jesus’ body (John 19:39).

Nicodemus always seemed to be near Jesus, in proximity to him, whether in the city streets or in a secret room one-to-one, late at night. He always seemed to be near him, but never quite with him. Like many of us, he knew a great deal about him. He had good information and great curiosity, but he lacked trust in Jesus’ words and ways. Read More

Dayenu: A Spiritual Practice of Gratitude

 A devotional reflection on Isaiah 43

Sung or chanted each year around Jewish Passover tables, Dayenu (pronounced die-YAY-noo or DIE-yenu) carries a depth of spiritual wisdom many Christians might miss. It means simply: It would have been enough.

  • If God had only brought us out of Egypt, but not split the sea: Dayenu.
  • If God had only split the sea, but not let us through on dry ground: Dayenu.
  • If God had only let us through, but not sustained us in the wilderness: Dayenu.

This litany, sung with joy, rising rhythm, and often laughter, is more than a historical rehearsal. It is a spiritual declaration. We live not by entitlement, but by grace. And grace is Dayenu, always more than enough. Read More

Prophet, peacemaker, or partisan?

Your emotional reaction to the title for today’s blog is already an indicator of your readiness for curiosity. It’s not a direct statement from Scripture, but I want to raise the question of the kingdom anticipated in the Bible for Jesus’ reign.

 

Isaiah 11:1ff puts us in mind of what God’s intentions were (and are): I ask you to read verses 1-9 to make sense of today’s blog.

 

Did you notice?  Jesus was “the shoot from the stump of Jesse.” If you’re an apprentice of Jesus, this is the mandate to which we bow: “His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord.”  Not to be afraid of the Lord, but to honor, respect, follow, and obey the Lord. This oracle forecasts a new king coming out of the line of Jesse, not out of any political party, but from a long past of faithfulness to Yahweh. What is the nature of this new kingdom? Read More

“It happened again.”

“It happened again,” were the words with which Richard started his story that day. 

 

He told me how he and his wife had a dinner date over the weekend with another couple from church—“All in all, a less than satisfying dinner conversation.” 

 

Richard elaborated on how he and his wife felt they had asked all the questions, showing interest in their friends, drawing them out, and learning more about the couple’s experiences and perspectives on various topics. Yet their curiosity was never reciprocated; no questions were asked of Richard or his wife, and very little interest in them was expressed by this other couple. 

 

“It all felt like a one-way street of interest,” Richard paused and then continued, “A disappointing but not unfamiliar experience.”

 

These sorts of conversations were sadly all too common, according to Richard. “This same experience is frequent enough,” Richard shared with me,  “that my wife and I have developed a shorthand descriptor for it. When we get back in the car after the meal or when one of us returns from a coffee conversation, either my wife or I say—It happened again.” 

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