Devotional 9-23-18

Give a little, save a little, spend a little.

We are created to be generous. Genesis 1:26 tells us that we are created in God’s image, and our understanding of God is that God is loving and generous. But, we also have a bent to selfishness. The disobedience in the Garden of Eden caused humanity to struggle with sin. Pride and selfishness interfere with our desire to be generous. We struggle with fear and scarcity, even as we desire to be generous.

We live in a consumerist culture that leads many people to struggle with debt. Generosity must be learned and practiced in a culture where money and possessions have almost a mystical power. Our relationship with money and possessions can interfere with our living into the call to be generous. That relationship is often rooted into how money was treated in our family.

Was money a taboo subject when you were growing up? Did you know how much money your parents made? Did you know how much your parents had?

Was money talked about at the dinner table? Did your parents teach you skills in handling money? Were family conversations around money filled with anxiety? Hopefulness? Gratitude? Anger?

I was humbled and honored to do serve at Dave Ohl’s funeral recently. At the evening visitation time with the family, I had a chance to visit with Dave’s grandchildren. I learned that Dave Ohl sent cards to his five grandchildren all their lives. He sent cards for all occasions, even Halloween. Dave picked out five specific cards that matched the individual personalities of each of the five grandchildren.

In each card, Dave wrote each grandchild a personal note. He also included money and ended each note with the admonition to, “give a little; save a little; spend a little.” In his loving and generous gifts to his grandchildren, Dave Ohl passed on to them a healthy attitude toward money that focused first on giving.

What seeds Dave Ohl planted for nurturing generous grandchildren!

You are created in God’s image. What will your family say was the attitude about money and possessions in your household?

Rev. Jeff Taylor

Devotional 8-25-18

Please read John 6:35 and 41-51. 

The scene for this scripture is the day after the miraculous feeding of the 5000 and after Jesus and, briefly, Peter, had walked on water. In spite of the fact the disciples had witnessed that miracle they are asking Jesus about the bread.

Jesus replies that “I am the bread of life.” What does Jesus mean by that bold claim. As I reflected on this, I learned some things about bread.

Bread is one of the one of the most basic foods in the world.  It has been an important part of human’s diet for thousands of years. In fact, scholars suggest that humans were baking bread at least 30,000 years ago.

The first breads were probably flatbreads like matzo, pita, naan and tortillas.  Leavening is what makes bread rise into a light and fluffy loaf. The first leavened bread was likely the result of an accident, probably from a neglected bowl of leftover porridge. Some passing yeast in the air made a home in it. When the yeast began eating the sugars present in grain, and produced bubbles that resulted in light, airy, dough.

I found something else interesting; the Arabic word for bread is the same as the word for life. And in English, while we have different words for bread and life, bread is so basic that the term “bread” is often used for food in general.

When we have a meal, we “break bread.”

In our culture, money is nearly as important as bread. What is a slang word for money? Bread!

Bread: our most basic human need. And Jesus said, "I am the bread of life."

Jesus' words, "I am the bread of life," fit into a larger story. Jesus had set a table on a hillside, where bread seemed scarce, and yet bread was abundant.

This miracle of abundance reminded the original audience and us of the manna in the wilderness, where the people were fed when they were wandering in the desert.

Jesus reminds his disciples that in the kingdom of God, bread is for everyone. In the kingdom of God, God is the source of abundance.

In God’s kingdom, there is bread for all.

In God’s kingdom, bread shall no longer be a tool of empire, a product of toil, the reminder of slavery and sin. Bread will be again as it was intended, the life of the world.

Another time, when Jesus taught us to pray, he taught us to pray for our daily bread. In that same prayer, he teaches us to pray for God’s kingdom to come on earth, as it is in heaven.

As we live into God’s kingdom in this world, we need to do our part to see that all are fed. There’s more than enough to go around, yet some people don’t have bread. It’s not enough to give them pie in the sky. Thy kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven. The kingdom of God is both not yet, and already.

This is the wisdom of God, the miracle of Jesus: that all will be fed, and that that the struggles of a world based on scarcity are passing. The time of abundance is not yet, and already.

Rev. Jeff Taylor

Devotional 3-16-17

I will be their dog, and they shall be my people.

I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. (Jeremiah 31:33b)

One evening, as usual, Mary showed me a picture of a dog she had helped earlier that day as part of her volunteer work at the animal shelter. The little boxer mix with blue eyes had been rescued from a neglect situation, and Mary had taken him to be neutered so he could be adopted by a loving family. We thought we would probably not get another male dog. And we definitely didn’t want a puppy. We weren’t quite settled in our new home. We hadn’t yet fenced the yard. But, when I saw that picture it was all over. Cooper came home on March 16, 2017.

Cooper turned out to be a couple months younger than we had thought, and he quickly grew a little bigger than we anticipated. He torments Rufus the Cat. He jumps when he gets excited. He’s chewed a few pieces of furniture. He digs holes in the yard and leaves very large muddy paw prints. Cooper is not perfect. But, he’s perfectly Cooper. He is our dog and we are his people.

Part of my Saturday morning routine this past summer was to take Cooper for a walk at Valley Park where the farmer’s market is set up. We would make a few laps around the path, and on the last leg, I would pick up some fresh produce. People—especially kids—are drawn to Cooper, just like we were. One morning, we met a woman with four toddlers. One of the little girls asked politely if she could pet my dog. I held his harness while all four kids petted and hugged Cooper and giggled as he kissed them.

“Why do you have a dog?” she asked me.

I searched for the right words and was a little surprised by what came out. “We needed a dog, and Cooper needed some people. So we adopted him, and he adopted us.” The mom clutched her heart as she whispered to me, “Thank you so much for explaining it that way! We adopted all four of these children!” She is their mom, and they are her children.

In today’s Hebrew Bible reading, the prophet Jeremiah offers hope to the people of Israel who were suffering. Victims of exile whose cherished theologies and nationalism had failed them, the Israelites are promised a new covenant with God. They needed rescued from a neglect situation. “I will be their God, and they will be my people,” God promises (v.34). Under the new covenant promised by God through Jeremiah, each of us can live in hope because we are all God’s people.

I am not perfect, far from it. Against my list of transgressions, Cooper comes out looking pretty pious. But I am perfectly Jeff. God is my God, and I am God’s people.

Happy  Gotcha Day, Cooper!

We give thanks, O God, for your promise of presence with us, your people. Thank you for mothers and dogs to serve as tangible reminders of unconditional love. Amen.

Jeff Taylor

Devotional 10-28-16

Please read Luke 19:1-10

This week's gospel text is the story of Zacchaeus, the rich tax collector who experienced a radical life-changing transformation when he met Jesus.

This was one of my father's favorite bible passages. It is compelling; who doesn't love a good conversion story. The ornerier the sinner/-cum-saint, the better the testimony. Although we don't know much about Zacchaeus, Luke gives enough details that the original audience would have made no mistake as to his deplorable nature. Zacchaeus, says Luke, was both a tax collector and rich.

I imagine first-century Palestinians didn't like to render unto Caesar any more than peoples of all times and places throughout history. Today we may have disdain for the IRS, but ancient Jews had a better reason for their hatred of tax collectors. These "publicans" were in collusion with the occupying nation to collect taxes from their own neighbors--they were seen as traitors. Moreover, tax collectors got rich by collecting more than the amount due and keeping the extra. No wonder the crowd grumbled when Jesus chose to eat with Zacchaeus.

What dad liked about the story of Zacchaeus is how, when we are looking for Jesus, He finds us. And life will never be the same.

I went to a United Methodist Men meeting with Dad at his church where he shared a devotional he had written based on Zacchaeus's conversion. For Dad, Zacchaeus experienced new life because he was willing to leave his place of comfort--the sycamore tree where he could view Jesus from a distance. How often we might be tempted to watch from afar without any personal commitment or participation. But Jesus says to Zacchaeus and, I think, to us, "hurry and come down!"

When Zacchaeus and when we respond obediently, our lives are changed.

Dad concluded, "Check your fingernails. Do you have sycamore bark from clinging on to keep your distance?"

May each of us seek Jesus and be found.

Jeff Taylor

Devotional 4-5-15

Rev. Joseph Casey, a retired United Methodist pastor, died on the afternoon of Good Friday. Although his light has gone out, “countless other candles, lit from his, still burn.¹”  One such candle is mine.

When my family moved to Logan in 1971, Rev. Casey was our pastor. We moved in a few houses up from the parsonage in Midelburg Addition, so Joe and Martha and their children, Tom and Peggy, were also our neighbors and, soon, friends. I was sad when, just a few years later, it was announced in church that they would be leaving to serve another church. There were tears at church and in the neighborhood. Other parsonage families came and went, and other rich relationships developed with the Savilles, the Turleys and the Chenoweths. But Rev. Joseph Casey was always special to me.

Rev. Casey taught my confirmation class. Five or six of us would meet after school in the pastor’s study at church. I recall that Rev. Casey took the task very seriously, teaching us about the Wesley brothers, Methodist classes and bands, and about United Methodist beliefs. I was confirmed and joined the congregation of Nighbert Memorial United Methodist Church on Sunday, March 25, 1973.

I ran into Joe and Martha again in the late 1990s, when I attended Annual Conference for the first time as a lay member from Johnson Memorial. By then, they had retired to North Carolina. I looked for them at the Conference sessions each year thereafter.

After I started working at the United Methodist Foundation, I reconnected again with Joe and Martha when they created a scholarship trust for seminary students. That’s Joe and Martha Casey; they know well the sacrifices involved in answering God’s call to ordained ministry, so they have given generously to provide help for others on that path.

I was pleased when I learned a few years ago that Joe and Martha would be returning to West Virginia and moving into a retirement community in Huntington. Then I was especially glad when they began attending Johnson Memorial. I liked seeing Joe in his clergy vestments on special Sundays like Convocation Sunday.

Then, as if coming full circle, my mother became neighbors again with the Caseys when she moved to The Woodlands in 2011. While I was having lunch with my mother at The Woodlands in the spring of 2013, Martha Casey stopped by our table with a gift for me: a photocopy of a couple of pages from one of Joe’s journals. It was dated March 25, 1973—the day I was confirmed. In the pages, Joe described a visit I made to his study that morning. I left Sunday school crying and went to his study because my Sunday school teacher, obviously not a Wesleyan, had told me that I would have to be baptized before I was confirmed. She said my baptism as an infant didn’t “count.” Rev. Casey explains in the journal entry that he calmed my concerns, and that I was confirmed and “received into the church but not” baptized again. (Emphasis in original).

Although I have no surface recollection of the subject of his journal entry, I must have a subconscious memory of it, and of his pastoral response to me, entrenched in my soul. I confess that my insistence on the sufficiency of my infant baptism was more likely a result of my stubborn precociousness than it was based upon any faithful understanding of baptismal theology.  I evidently paid attention during Confirmation Class and was not going to let the Sunday school teacher trump the preacher.  Yet, as I reflect on the contents of the journal entry, and Rev. Casey’s concern for me, even to the point of convening a group of church leaders that very evening to discuss the problem of this particular Sunday school teacher’s misleading and upsetting remarks, I give thanks for the life and ministry of Rev. Joseph Casey, and I remember my one baptism.

Jeff Taylor

[1] Quoting a remark from Bishop William Boyd Grove upon the occasion of the death last month of Rev. Frank Shaffer.

Devotional 3-24-15

Holy Cow!

What is holy? A synonym for “sacred,” holy means worthy of worship. As the third stanza of that great Trinitarian hymn reminds us, only God is holy. But we often use “holy” and “sacred” to describe things that are capable of bringing about an experience of the presence of God. For instance, we might refer to sacred space, a sacred text, or sacred music when they are designed to lead people to experience the divine. But it is important to remember that it is not the space, text, or music that is sacred.

Or is it?

Consider, for example, our sacred space. Your and my idea of sacred space may look more like a courthouse to someone not familiar with church. Think about it…in addition to the high ceiling and balcony, there is a gallery (nave), a separated, raised platform (chancel), a bench (pulpit), a witness stand (lectern), and a jury box (choir loft). There’s even a judge in a robe! Would we ever consider changing the architecture to be more inviting to those who find it to be a barrier?

Next, consider sacred music. A friend’s recent Facebook post referred to the connection between the wonderful Passion hymn O Sacred Head Now Wounded and Paul Simon’s American Tune, which you can listen to it here. Even though I had heard American Tune many times, I never made the link, which is so obvious to me now, to the hymn. “Wow,” I wrote in a message to another Facebook friend, “wouldn’t it be great to hear someone sing O Sacred Head Now Wounded to Paul Simon’s setting of the tune?”

“NNOOOOOOOOOOoooooo!!!!!!!” was the initial response. Then he got negative. How many synonyms for “no” can you think of? I learned some new ones from his response. He concluded, “Holy cow. Do I need to call for medics?”

 “O never mind,” I replied, and let it drop. But “Holy cow?” Ha! The irony was not lost on me.

We use the expression “sacred cow” derogatorily to describe those things that have become so accepted that no one would dare even suggest changing them. Although I know my friend had used “holy cow” as an exclamation of surprise, a “minced oath” the crossword puzzle writers would call it, he had unwittingly made my point. The familiar, traditional tune and style of O Sacred Head Now Wounded has become so venerated and accepted that I should not have even suggested doing something different with it. It is a sacred cow.

It’s too bad, really, for anyone my friend might have an opportunity to influence. While I have absolutely no doubt that many people over the centuries have been stirred by O Sacred Head Now Wounded in its familiar, traditional style, the moving words will not be heard and experienced by some who cannot appreciate a Bach chorale. It may be shocking, even blasphemy, to some reading this, but there really are people who cannot appreciate a Bach chorale. But, that’s ok, we think. Maybe because they are not in church.

A further irony is that the tune and harmonization that are so familiar to the in-church crowd are based on a secular love song written by German composer Hans L. Hasler in 1601, more than eighty years before Bach’s birth. With lyrics such as the following, it’s little wonder it has been referred to as a 16^th Century version of “All Shook Up.”

My mind’s confused within me, made thus by a tender maiden.

I am utterly astray. My heart hurts badly.

I have no rest day and night. I ever lament.

I keep sighing and crying, in sorrow almost despairing.

So I wasn’t the first person to blur the secular/sacred line. If any of Bach’s contemporaries had exclaimed, “Holy cow, J.S.! Have your lost your bleeping mind?” you can be thankful he continued undeterred.

In many churches we have sacred cows. We seem to hang on to traditions that go back, not necessarily to the original Christian church, but to particular times in Christian history. Maybe it is the heyday of the 1950’s or the Classical Period or even the Dark Ages. We, the insiders, seem to find some zone of comfort, and in the midst of churches that are steadily declining, we blissfully maintain that our traditions stand the test of time. But do they really? I fully believe the words often repeated in the baptismal covenant that “the church is of God, and will be preserved until the end of time,” yet I further believe that God’s church will not be confined to a particular building or a particular style. Will we die trying to so confine it?

What are our sacred cows? The building? The time for worship? The space for worship? The style of worship? The music? The instruments? The way we do something the way we’ve always done it because we’ve always done it that way? When someone suggests something new, do we squelch their enthusiasm? “Holy cow! Are you crazy?” When our own tradition becomes a sacred cow, who are we excluding from the life of the church?

Only God is holy. Do we aim to share the good news of Jesus with others? Or to teach them to appreciate Bach chorales?

Jeff Taylor

Devotional 8-16-13

Give Me Faith

1. Give me faith that I can know,
   Truth revealed so long ago.
   Creator of the wind and sea,
   Breath of Life, awaken me.
   .
2. Give me faith that I believe,
   Pardoned sin, your grace receive.
   God of mercy, loving Lord,
   I was dead, now life’s restored!
   .
3. Give me faith that I can trust,
   Self, denied, now right and just.
   Holy Spirit, move in me,
   Your disciple let me be.
   .
4. Give your church the faith to be,
   Joined in love and charity.
   Free us to unite as one,
   That we may see Your will be done.

Tune:  Canterbury (Holy Spirit, Truth Divine, UMH 466)
 
© 2013 Jeffrey A. Taylor.  All rights reserved.

Jeff Taylor

Devotional 5-24-13

One Triune God[1]
 
We believe in One God
Mother of Creation
Seen, un-seen, of earth and heaven
Ev’rything that is.
We believe in one God,
Father, Son and Spirit.
One Church, one baptism, Everlasting life!
 
We believe in One God
Our Lord Christ Jesus
God from God, Begotten Son,
Slain and ris’n again.
We believe in one God,
Father, Son and Spirit.
One Church, one baptism, Everlasting life!
 
We believe in One God
Life-giving Spirit
Holy Power, Comforter
Worship, glorify!
We believe in one God,
Father, Son and Spirit.
One Church, one baptism, Everlasting life!
 

Jeff Taylor

---

[1] Words copyright © 2012 Jeffrey A. Taylor

Devotional 9-22-12

Ode to a Virtuous Woman

Please read Proverbs 31:10-31

There are two kinds of people in the world:  those who love the virtuous woman in Proverbs 31, and those who don’t.

Some people hear the description of the virtuous woman and think of a virtuous woman who has had an impact on their lives.  Others complain that the description of the virtuous woman (ostensibly written by a man) sets up a standard that is unattainable and unrealistic.

Count me among those who like it.  Consider my re-write, in honor of another virtuous woman, Jerry Taylor:

A capable mom who can find? She is far more precious than jewels.

The hearts of her children trust in her, and they will have no lack of gain because of her.

She does them good, and not harm, all the days of her life.  There were a few times when she may have threatened harm, but she never followed through with it.

She seeks cotton and polyester blends and, with the help of McCall patterns, works with willing hands to make formal dresses.  With wool yarn and needles she knits sweaters and even ascots like Mike Nesmith from the Monkees used to wear.

She shops on Thursdays, bringing her food from the A&P, dividing the candy into four equal portions.

She rises while it is still night and provides food for the bake sale her youngest son forgot to tell her about.

She considers a field and decides to play golf on it.

She girds herself with a 3-wood, and makes her arms strong.

She puts her hands to the grip, and knocks it straight down the middle.

She opens her hand to the poor, and reaches out her hands to the needy.

Although she hates snow days, she is not afraid for her household when it snows, for all her household are wrapped in hand-made Afghans. 

Her husband is known all over town, taking a leadership role in the community.

Strength and compassion are her clothing, but she loves to laugh.

She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.

She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness, but loves a good board game.

Her children rise up and call her happy; her husband too, and he praises her:

“Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all.”

Mom is not made virtuous by what she does; her actions are the fruit of her virtue.  Thanks, Mom.  And my apologies to Solomon.

Jeff Taylor

Devotional 1-27-12

Astounding Authority and Amazing Power

Please read Mark 1:21-28

Mark is widely believed to be the first written account of the life and works of Jesus Christ. It is an action-packed Gospel that establishes Jesus’ messiahship not only by who he is, but by what he does. The very first words of the Gospel declare who he is (“Jesus Christ, the Son of God”). Mark immediately seeks to provide support for that claim by depicting the works of Jesus. An example of the quick action in Mark can be seen in the fact that in its 16 chapters, Mark uses the word “immediately” some 31 times, 9 of those in the very first chapter. Mark gets right into it.

 

This week’s reading falls just before the middle of the first chapter of Mark, and already Jesus has been introduced, baptized and anointed by the Holy Spirit, driven into the wilderness where he was tempted, and called his first four disciples. And I thought I was busy!

 

This passage portrays the first of many miracles of Jesus—specifically the healing of a man with an unclean spirit. I confess that the miracle stories are difficult for me to accept, and of the miracle stories, the hardest for me are the exorcisms. I suppose my skepticism comes from the fact that demon possession and exorcism is just not part of my own life experience. And yet it is the first act of Jesus’ public ministry.

 

As I studied the passage, I realized that Jesus didn’t set out on a healing spree or an exorcism tour. He was simply preaching in the synagogue. I can imagine myself in the synagogue listening to Jesus deliver his first sermon. It must have been powerful preaching; Mark says the people were astounded because Jesus spoke as one having authority. Who did he study under? Where did he go to seminary? What is his degree? Is he a Rev. or Dr.? What other churches has he served? Where does he get his authority?

 

The answers comes from a most unlikely source—because just then, the sermon is interrupted by a man possessed of an unclean spirit who declares the preacher as the Holy One of God. It is easy to imagine that there would be aides in the temple who would act quickly to resolve such disruptive behavior. If it happened at Johnson Memorial, we would look to the ushers to escort the man out. But Jesus—baptized, anointed, and tempted—has been prepared to fight against forces of evil in the world. He commands the spirit to shut up and get out, and the evil spirit obeys. If they were astounded at his teaching, Mark says that they were amazed by his actions.

 

The source of Jesus’ power and authority is in who he is, to be sure; but its revelation to us is in what he does. Actions speak louder than words.

 

Jeff Taylor

Devotional 11-11-11

The Parable of the “Good” Steward?

Please read Matthew 25:14-30.

We typically call this parable “the Parable of the Talents.”  We like labels, but whatever label we may put on it, it is a parable of Jesus that cannot be confined by a label.  It is a parable about money.  It falls conveniently in the Lectionary during November, also known as Stewardship Season, and so we have all heard sermons about the “good” stewards who doubled their master’s money and were rewarded, and the “bad” steward who buried his talent.  Since the parable in English translations uses the word, “talent,” we get another meaning from the parable not to hide our God-given gifts and talents.  And we hope that everyone will know we are really talking about money. 

This is a parable about money—a lot of money.  Let’s try to get some perspective on just how much was at stake for these three slaves.  Never mind that a talent was a silver coin that weighed 60 or 70 pounds.  Each talent was worth about 6000 denarii; a denarius was the average worker’s daily wage.  According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, the average daily wage for All Occupations in West Virginia in 2010 was $136.00.  By today’s standards in West Virginia, then, a talent would have been worth over $800,000.  The master had a portfolio that was worth roughly $6.4 million.  When he left, he diversified it among three of his slaves.  The first got $4 million, the second $1.6 million, and the third $800 thousand.  The first two each actively traded the investment and ultimately doubled his money; the third took a more conservative approach and preserved the principal amount.  So when the master returned, his $6.4 million was worth $12 million.

In my work at the United Methodist Foundation, I have used this parable as an illustration.  There is an easy interpretation that this parable promotes investing and discourages preservation at the expense of lost opportunity.  We generally think of the master as representing the figure of God, right?  It is certainly different from the typical portrait of God as gracious, merciful, and abounding in steadfast love.  The parable presents a downright harsh description of the master, when you think about it.  The master is shown as absent, harsh, and concerned only about maximizing wealth.  Did Jesus mean that character to represent God?  Is the common interpretation the only way to look at Jesus’ parable?

This parable is open-ended and invites different interpretations.  As with any parable, we bring our own context and understanding to the reading.  Our Western minds, trained by our worldview, automatically think of the first two slaves as the heroes.  They are the ones who took risks and produced a good return.  And to us, that is a good thing.  However, it has been suggested by some that the original audience would have heard it quite differently. For example:

“The social-economic situation in which Jesus told this parable benefited only the small ruling elite. It was a system that concentrated wealth in a few hands, a society where the poor became poorer, and the rich became richer.  Even though poor Jews hated exploiters, since financial profit was attached to being a rich man’s steward, many accepted to serve the rich, and some even aligned with these exploiters. I look at the parable of the talents as a critique of this situation.”[1]

When viewed from within that context, the audience would question how the first two slaves could have earned a profit of 100% absent usury or some other form of exploitation or dishonesty.  The central character of the parable, the third servant, is seen as the hero of the story because he does not collaborate with the other two to further exploit the poor.  Like a modern-day whistle-blower, he stands up to his master and refuses to cooperate with him, knowing that the master is harsh and cruel.  By refusing to be a part of the system, he becomes the “good” steward and suffers the consequences by being thrown into the outer darkness. 

The literary context of the parable is also important. Because of its placement, it can be seen as a contrast between the kingdom of earth and the kingdom of heaven.  “The parable of the talents thus shows that in this world, rich people exploit and praise fellow exploiters. The rich become richer and the poor poorer. But it is not so in the kingdom of God.”[2]

Interestingly, the story that immediately follows this parable is the judgment parable where the sheep are separated from the goats, (Matt. 25:25-40).  There, we learn that we visit Jesus by feeding the hungry, by giving drink to the thirsty, by welcoming the stranger, by clothing the naked, by caring for the sick, and by visiting those in prisons. In other words, we meet Jesus beyond the margins, in places of pain and suffering—perhaps in the very outer darkness into which the “good” steward was thrown!

Jeff Taylor 

---

[1] Folarin, G. O. (2008). The parable of the talents in the African context: an inculturation hermeneutics approach. Asia Journal Of Theology, 22(1), 94-106, at 99.

[2] Id., at 104.

Devotional 5-27-11

This week's gospel passage is part of Jesus' farewell discourse to his closest disciples that centers on the final Passover meal they shared together.

Jesus knew that his ministry on earth would soon be coming to an end. He would be betrayed and denied by his own, arrested, tried and crucified. He and his disciples had shared together what would later become known as the Last Supper. During the supper, Jesus got up from the table and began to wash the disciples' feet to demonstrate for them that leadership means service.

Jesus knew the arrest and crucifixion would be confusing for his disciples. He knew they would be tempted to leave their new life and go back to their old ways, before they had responded to his invitation to "follow me." Jesus wanted to encourage the disciples to continue believing in God and him, and he explained that belief equals action. It is within this context that Jesus continues his discourse as recorded in this week's gospel passage, John 14:15-21:

If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you. I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.

Jesus' promise to the disciples, and to us, is that the Holy Spirit will empower us to live in ways that give testimony to Jesus' life. Jesus makes it clear here that discipleship empowered by the Holy Spirit is more than mere belief or creed.

They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me.

This week, think about how others have seen Jesus because of your belief in him. What has the Holy Spirit empowered you to do that gives others a glimpse of Jesus?

It's easy to talk the talk; discipleship involves walking the walk.

Jeff Taylor

Devotional 2-4-11

Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? Isaiah 58:6-7

Churches expend a great deal of energy trying to figure out how to worship. Should it be traditional or contemporary? Pipe organ or praise band? Chairs or pews? Ordered or spontaneous? Well-meaning people make passionate arguments that one form or another is somehow superior, whether superior is defined as more rooted in scripture and tradition or more likely to draw in more people.

I’m not pointing fingers—this is confession time for me. I’ve been in a lot of those discussions for several years, and have made some of those impassioned pleas. I want a worship style that is pleasing to me, that makes feel happy and good. I want to come to church, enjoy my time there, and leave feeling better.

I am convicted by this week’s lectionary passages, and particularly the reading from Isaiah 58, a portion of which is printed above. True worship, according to the prophet, is about more than ritual to make me feel better. True worship requires us to get involved, not only during the 11:00 a.m. hour, but the rest of the week. Piety, singing hymns, and praying, in and of themselves, will not bring about God’s kingdom of justice and righteousness. God expects us to act to make the kingdom a reality. Who will feed the hungry if not us?

Here are some startling statistics from Bread for the World, the non-profit hunger-fighting organization led by David Beckmann:

• 925 million people are hungry.
• Almost 16,000 children die each day from hunger-related causes. (That's one child every five seconds).
• In 2008, nearly 9 million children died before they reached their fifth birthday. One third of these deaths are due directly or indirectly to hunger and malnutrition.

Am I looking for a worship experience that will move me to participate in ending hunger? Or do I want worship to lull me into continued complacency?

If you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday. The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail. Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in. Isaiah 58:10-12

As worshiping Christians, we should be about the business of ending hunger. We’d better get busy.

Amen.

Jeff Taylor

Devotional 10-29-10

Halfhearted Commitment
Please read Luke 19: 1-10. Jesus and Zacchaeus

Zacchaeus is a fairly obscure biblical character—he’s only mentioned in one chapter of one Gospel. He’s very familiar, though, because of the song so many of us learned as children—the one with the hand motions that is probably running through your head as you read this. Zacchaeus was a wee little man, a wee little man was he; he climbed up in a sycamore tree for the Lord he wanted to see…

If it wasn’t already running through your head, you can thank me that now it is!

I know there was more to the song, but what I took from it was just that Zacchaeus was short. So short, in fact, that he climbed a tree to see Jesus. It was much later that I learned there’s so much more to the story, and to Zacchaeus. The takeaway should be the last line of the song, after Zacchaeus had come down from the tree and hosted Jesus: A better man was he, yes, a better man was he! We are changed for the better when we accept Jesus’ invitation into relationship with him.

Zacchaeus, the tax collector—the chief tax collector, Luke says—would have been despised by his own people. Tax collectors are not popular today, but tax collectors in first-century Palestine were seen as in cahoots with Roman oppressors. They got to keep a percentage of whatever they collected, and what they forwarded on to Rome financed the brutal treatment of their own people—and God’s chosen ones. A short man, he would have been looked down upon in more ways than one.

Zacchaeus was unloved and probably saw himself as unlovable; he was searching for something else, something more, something that his riches could not give him when he climbed that sycamore tree. Zacchaeus wouldn’t have predicted that Jesus would want to have a relationship with the likes of him. Jesus’ loving and gracious invitation transformed Zacchaeus instantly. Immediately, he gave half of his riches away.

My dad really liked the story of Zacchaeus. He once (probably more than once) used the story as the basis of a devotional for a United Methodist Men meeting. Dad suggested that we, like Zacchaeus, might like to climb a tree to see Jesus and his disciples. We admire Jesus and what he and the disciples do; healing people, feeding multitudes, casting out demons—it’s all good stuff. But we want to watch—from a distance. Dad suggested that, contrary to the way Zacchaeus hurried down from his perch at Jesus’ invitation, we might be more apt to cling to the tree where we can observe in safety without the risks associated with committed, participatory discipleship. Dad ended the time of devotion by inviting his audience to examine their fingernails for sycamore bark.

We might ask ourselves: What is our sycamore tree? What is it that we cling to for comfort and safety? What separates us from active, hands-on discipleship?

What about Zacchaeus? Zacchaeus was a tax collector—the chief tax collector. He was very rich. He may have completely let go of the tree, but he held on to half his riches. As a planned giving fundraiser, I would like to have been invited to that meal with Jesus and Zacchaeus. I would have talked to Zacchaeus about the other half.

Jeff Taylor

Devotional 8-20-10

Blind Guides!
Please read Matthew 23.

In Matthew 23, Jesus confronts religious leaders for not practicing what they preach. They talked the big talk about Moses and law, but when it came to their own actions, they didn’t walk the walk. Their words were empty. Jesus denounces them as “blind guides” who put on a show of religiosity while neglecting the weightier matters of justice, mercy, and faith.

For the past five years or so, I have relied on a GPS to help me find my way around the hills and hollows of West Virginia. It is a useful tool, but not foolproof. For example, my first GPS unit suggested that the quickest route home from I-64 is a right turn through a fence at the end of a dead-end. Fortunately, I did not rely solely on my GPS to get me home, but also on my own vision, memory, and common sense. In an episode of The Office, my favorite television show, Michael Scott, in spite of Dwight Shrute’s protestations, drives off the road and into a pond in deference to the voice of his GPS to “turn left.” Funny as it is on a sitcom, it turns out this is a real problem. Several accidents have been reported because people blindly follow their GPS directions and miss the obvious.

In their book, The Invisible Gorilla, psychologists Christopher Chabris and Daniel Simons discuss inattentional blindness. The term inattentional blindness describes how we fail to perceive the obvious, not because we’re not paying attention, but because we’re focusing our attention on something other than the obvious. Inattentional blindness causes us to obey the GPS even when the obvious road signs point to something else. Inattentional blindness is why we shouldn’t text and drive. So you think you’re immune to inattentional blindness? Think you’re pretty perceptive? Before you read any further, take a simple test of watching a short video and counting the number of times a basketball is passed.

Take the test at this link: http://www.theinvisiblegorilla.com/gorilla_experiment.html

Did you take the test? Are you still confident that you’re observant? Perhaps you’re surprised that you’re not as perceptive as you thought. The theme of Chabris’ and Simons’ book is not so much that we fail to perceive the obvious as much as it is that we are surprised by our lack of perception. That is to say, we think we are more observant than we are. We think our memories are better than they are. We think we can multi-task, but can we really? We are overly confident when it comes to matters of perception. In a sense, we’re like the Pharisees and scribes who were the subject of Jesus’ criticism. Blind guides!

Blind guide! Am I so focused on my own agenda that I fail to see the opportunity for ministry right in front of me?
Blind fool! Am I so focused on low prices that I fail to consider the working conditions in the factories where products are manufactured?
Blind man! Am I so focused on my current need for energy that I fail to see the long-term effects of mining and off-shore drilling on the environment?
Blind guide! Am I so focused on the bottom line investment return that I fail to consider the social impact of my investments?
Blind fool! Am I so focused on church that I fail to see God?
Blind man! Am I so focused on “me” that I fail to see others?

Dear God, open my eyes that I may see clearly your truth revealed; let me hear clearly your voice of truth; and open my heart to share your love with others. Amen.

Jeff Taylor

Devotional 6-4-10

Fanaticism

Please read Galatians 1:11-24

I was 17 years old in September, 1978 when my life changed. I had gone to pick up my friend for some typical Friday night running around, and he was still eating dinner. “Here, give this a listen,” he said, handing me his headphones as he headed back to the table. That was my introduction to the music of Frank Zappa; and my life has never been the same.

My already eclectic taste in music was immediately transformed that night by the first side of Zappa’s newest album, Studio Tan. I marveled at the musical genius, the artistic risks, the humor, the complexity of the rhythm, the lack of structure. It was unlike anything I had ever heard—really weird, strange, polyphonic sounds…and I loved it. The influences of Johnny “Guitar” Watson, Igor Stravinsky, and Lightin’ Slim were obvious. I spent the next several years buying every Frank Zappa album I could find, reading every interview or article, learning everything I could about Frank Zappa. I also spent an inordinate amount of time in high school and college trying to prove the artistic value of Zappa’s music to my friends. My militant efforts made a lasting impression, if only a very few converts. When Frank Zappa died in 1993 of prostate cancer, I received condolences from friends from whom I hadn’t heard in years.

My Zappa LP collection remains intact, and I’ve purchased everything on CD as well. Most of it is on one of my IPODs. I confess: I’m a Frank Zappa fanatic. There you have it.

If you are still reading, you may be wondering if this really is the weekly Johnson Memorial devotional. This may well be the first (and last) devotional to focus on Frank Zappa, but I promise—you’re in the right place. There’s a connection.

In this week’s Epistle reading, the Apostle Paul writes of the dramatic transformation in his life that occurred “when God…was pleased to reveal his Son” to him. You know about the dramatic conversion of Paul; he was a persecutor of Christians, and then became the one who would spread the message of the love and grace of Jesus Christ to the ends of the earth. Paul became a fanatic for Jesus Christ.

Chances are, you are fanatical about something, too. It may be a college or professional sports team, a politician, an author, a movie or television show, a rare collection that you try to expand…there’s something that you are passionate about. You schedule around it, you budget around it, you defend it, promote it, try to persuade new enthusiasts.

Sadly, when I compare my fervor for Zappa with my fervor for evangelism, I fall short. Sometimes we need to examine our priorities and ask ourselves whether we are as passionate about God and spreading the good news of Jesus Christ as we are about our own interests and hobbies.

Jeff Taylor

Devotional 4-16-10

Peter’s call to discipleship, to be a fisher of people, came after he confessed Jesus as Christ after a night of unproductive fishing. (see Luke 5:1-11). In response to Jesus’ invitation to “follow me,” Peter left his nets and committed himself to Jesus and his ministry. Later, Peter would boldly promise to follow Jesus even unto death.

Today’s gospel passage of a post-resurrection breakfast on the beach echoes that earlier account of a miraculous catch of fish. This time, Peter and the other disciples had gone back to fishing. It had been a strange few weeks; during the celebration of their last Passover celebration with Jesus, he would warn them of things they didn’t want to hear, of betrayals, denials, crucifixion, death, and, YES, resurrection.

It seems strange that after witnessing Jesus’ victory of live over death, the disciples would not be able to go back to their old ways. But then again, what else were they to do? Jesus had not yet given them any instructions as to how to continue his ministry.

I can imagine Peter rehearsing over and over again in his mind the events of the garden the night Jesus had been arrested. How could he, “the Rock,” have denied Jesus not once or even twice, but THREE times? And Jesus had called it. How could Jesus have known? How could he have let his friend down?

And I can imagine that Peter probably felt that, as a fisher of people, he was a complete failure, so he might as well go back to something he knew how to do.

“I think I’ll go fishing.”

“Me too!” the other disciples chimed in, each wrestling with his own doubts and fears.

In that context, Jesus makes his appearance on the beach as a stranger. He is revealed when his friendly fisherman’s advice yields another miraculous catch. The impetuous Peter doesn’t even wait to haul in the catch. He dives in and rushes to greet Jesus, who is broiling some fish.

After breakfast, Jesus and Peter have a conversation in which Jesus three times asks Peter, “Do you love me?” to which Peter three times responds that he does. I can imagine Peter, hearing the question the third time, recalling the third denial in the garden just before the cock crowed. Recently, I learned that our English translations limit the meaning of the conversation because of the different Greek words for love. In Jesus’ question, the Greek word “agape” is translated as love. In Peter’s responses, the Greek word “phileo” is also translated love. Agape love is unconditional; it is a full commitment, the highest form of love. Phileo, in contrast, is brotherly love.

Whatever we may make of the questions and answers, let’s not forget the three commands of Jesus after each of Peter’s responses.

“Feed my lambs.”
“Tend my sheep.”
“Feed my sheep.”

The subtle differences in the words of the commands suggest that Jesus is calling Peter to all of the duties of a shepherd. Peter’s human frailty and failures were no obstacles for Jesus.

As one who identifies with Peter’s impulsiveness and pride, as well as his failures and the limitations of his ability to fully commit, I find hope in this passage. In spite of my shortcomings, God can use me. Jesus doesn’t demand or ask for perfection—he calls us to love him.

Jeff Taylor

Devotional 1-29-10

Stewards of the Gospel

Please read Jeremiah 1:4-10.

Jeremiah was only a boy when God appointed him to be a prophet to the nations. Not surprisingly, Jeremiah said God must have dialed the wrong number. Fortunately, God was patient with Jeremiah and empowered him to be a great prophet with a message of hope for the future during turbulent times.

God’s call followed by Jeremiah’s excuses is a pattern we see repeated throughout the Bible. Think about it…when God called Moses, Moses pointed out that he was no good at public speaking. When God called Isaiah, Isaiah reminded God that he was a lost sinner, a person of unclean lips who lived among a people of unclean lips. When God called Jonah to go east, Jonah set out for the far west.

Accepting no ifs, ands, or buts, God used Moses, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and even Jonah to do God’s ministry in spite of their weaknesses, unwillingness, and excuses. “You shall go to all to whom I send you, and you shall speak whatever I command you.” Jeremiah 1:7. As the saying goes, God doesn’t call the equipped; God equips the called.

We may think of God’s call as something that happened in ancient times to a select few. God calls us, too—maybe not as a prophet to nations; but make no mistake. God calls us to ministry. Most of us respond with excuses. We’re too young, too old, too busy, too weak. Maybe later…when this project is finished…when the kids are out of diapers…when the kids are out of college…when the mortgage is paid off…. We miss opportunities for ministry because we do not have enough faith to believe God will give us what we need to accomplish God’s will. Not our will, but God’s.

Recently I spoke at a local church program focused on some of the issues facing senior citizens. During his introductory remarks, the coordinator of the event noted that each person in the room could probably think of people who should have been there, who could have benefited from the information. He reminded the listeners that they were to be “stewards of the information and resources you receive tonight. Our job is to learn what we can and then share it with those who need to hear it.”

His words resonated with me! Isn’t that the charge of the Great Commission? The Gospel of Jesus Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit are not ours to keep. We are called to be stewards of the good news, to share what we have received, and to make disciples of Jesus Christ.

You come into contact with people every day who need the love of God. It may be the clerk at the grocery store who is in an abusive relationship; perhaps the neighbor who has an addiction problem; the neglected youth…God is calling you to witness the love of Christ to them by your words and actions. If not you, then who?

What’s your excuse?

Jeff Taylor

Devotional 10-30-09

All Saints Day

Mom and I were traveling north on I-79 earlier this week. It was a beautiful, crisp, fall day. The mountains in West Virginia were a glorious patchwork of deep brown, red, orange, yellow, and green. At times, when the sun was just right, it was almost too beautiful to be real. I’ve always loved this time of year. Growing up in the steep mountains of the southern West Virginia coal fields, I never took the beautiful fall colors for granted…I knew it was only a matter of a few weeks—less if there was any significant wind and rain—before the mountains would give up their colors for dreary gray.

There’s a melancholy in the autumn, too. We know that cold, dark, and gray are just around the corner. If we can hope past the winter, we know there’s a spring that waits to be bursting with fresh new colors.

Dad loved the autumn, too. We would go to Grandma Mitchell’s in Lewis County and gather nuts—hickory nuts, hazel nuts, butternuts, but especially the black walnuts. People can be divided into two categories: those who love black walnuts, and those who hate them. We loved them. My brother and I liked to climb up in the tree and shake the limbs to knock down the walnuts. We laughed at the dirty looks Dad would give us when he would walk under the tree thinking we were finished, only to get pummeled with nuts. It was all part of the game. We wore gloves to keep from staining our hands as we knocked off the outer hulls. Eventually, the stain would bleed through the gloves. Dad would spread the walnuts out on the garage floor to dry. After several days of drying, he would crack several at time with a hammer, and then, sitting in front of the television, begin the painstaking process of picking walnuts out of the shell. No one else had the patience for it. Fortunately, his patience paid off for all of us when we enjoyed the cakes and pies with the delicious unique black walnut flavor.

Dad loved autumn. Mom told me that as she stands at her rear window looking at the fall splendor, she can hear Dad’s voice saying how beautiful it is. She told me she caught herself saying out loud the other day, “I know it’s a lot prettier where you are, honey.”

What a great attitude! What a faith, and a hope in the resurrection! Mom knows and trusts God’s promise that death is not the end, but the beginning of something else, something better. “[H]e will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away. And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’ Also he said, ‘Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.’” Revelation 21:4-5.

Oh, when the saints go marching in;
Oh, when the saints go marching in!
Oh, Lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in!

Jeff Taylor

Devotional 8-7-09

Follow the Outline
Please read Philippians 3: 1-21

Chances are, you know a retired man in your neighborhood whose lawn is the envy of everyone else’s. In the Beverly Hills neighborhood of Cross Lanes, my dad was that guy. He mowed twice a week, properly followed a fertilizer schedule, and kept his shrubbery perfectly trimmed. Last summer, when Dad at age 79 gave up the regular mowing to a lawn service, he continued to do his own edging and trimming. We joked that it was because no one else could do it to his satisfaction. It was true, though; no one else could do it as well.

After Dad’s sudden death in May, Mom agreed to let me assume responsibility for Dad’s shrubbery. We both knew I would not do it as well, but someone would have to do it; it might as well be me. About a week after the funeral, I showed up at Mom’s to take care of the hedges. She showed me where he kept the tools and left me alone for my task.

I had not anticipated what an emotional experience it would be to trim Dad’s hedges. As I began to pick up the larger hedge trimmer (he used two: one for the rough cut and the smaller one for finishing and shaping) and began to unwind the electric cord, I was overcome with sentimental feelings. Dad always fussed at the way I wound my extension cords. I wrapped them tightly from hand to elbow, while Dad was more fastidious, making big sweeping loops and taking care to get all the twists out. I thought to myself as I looked at Dad’s cord, the way he left it…it’s never going to be the same.

As I got to work with the trimming though, first with the forsythia, I found that it was beginning to look pretty good. Dad took such good care of his plants, I discovered that all I really needed to do was cut back the new growth, and it looked (almost) as if Dad had done it himself. When I finished the first group of forsythia that create a privacy hedge in the back yard, I realized that Dad had left a great outline for me to follow.

Following Dad’s outline worked around front with the boxwoods, hollies, and junipers, too. What a gift Dad left by providing an outline for me to follow. I never would have imagined that I would be able to get the perfect round or square looks that were a source of pride to him. All I have to do, though, is follow the outline.

Trimming the hedges each few weeks has given me some time not only to visit with Mom and help her out, but also to experience a time of spiritual connection with my father. I can imagine him smiling as I get each shrub down to the perfect outline he left. And I chuckle at what he might be thinking as I wind his electric cord tightly between my hand and elbow.

In Philippians 3:17 Paul urges us to provide a good outline for those who will come behind us.

Brothers and sisters, join in imitating me, and observe those who live according to the example you have in us.”

In lawn care and life, I cannot measure up to the example my dad established for me…but I’m getting better.

Dear God, thank you for the lives of the saints who showed us how to live and love. May their example encourage us to live lives that are pleasing to you, so that those who come behind us find us faithful. Amen.

Jeff Taylor