The Power of Song - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Tuesday • 5/21/2024 •

Welcome to Daily Office Devotions, I’m Reggie Kidd, I’m glad to be with you on this Tuesday in the Season After Pentecost. We are taking a detour from the Daily Office readings for a few days. Instead, we are thinking through various facets of worship and how our Lord provides meaningful communion with him through our formal corporate worship as well as in individual worship in our daily devotions. The thoughts offered here are excerpts from articles I wrote for Worship Leader magazine a few years ago.   

Singing the “Symbol” 

“So say we all!” began as a fortunate ad lib by actor Edward James Olmos in his role as Commander Adama during a rally-the-troops speech in Syfy’s television series Battlestar Galactica. The line became a communal ceremonial affirmation of humans in their battle against the genocidal Cylons and in their galaxy-wide quest for a new homeland. Whenever I’d hear members of the Colonial Fleet raise the shout on their way to fight the Cylons, I’d recall from the book of Exodus the gathering on Mount Sinai. There, God’s people heard God’s Word and twice roared, “All that the Lord has said, we will do!” as they prepared for the covenantal sacrificial act and the meal by which God and his people bound their lives to one another (Exodus 24:1-11).   

Singing: Bridge and Invitation 

I have come to love many features of worship with friends who emulate early Christian worship. No feature more so than the way we bridge from the ministry of the Word to the ministry of the Table. Having heard the Word read and proclaimed, we use the Nicene Creed to voice our “So say we all!” Then, and only then, are we ready to pray for the needs of the world and to break bread in the presence of our God and King. Placed right there, the Creed invites us to “re-enlist” in a cause that is more momentous than war against mere cybernetic enemies and in a quest that is also more assured than Adama’s for a New Earth.  

The Presbyterian church of my upbringing taught the baptismal creed: the Apostles’ Creed. But my Episcopal/Anglican friends use the church’s Eucharistic creed: the Nicene Creed. It spells out in greater detail the significance of Christ’s incarnation: that he who “for us and for our salvation came down from heaven and became incarnate” is “true God from true God.”  

The Nicene Creed came to be called “The Symbol of the Faith.” It stood as the best summary of the truths for which Christians had to contend during the first half-millennium of the church’s existence (issues which have only become more urgent in the 21st century): the Savior had the authority to save because he was divine, and the ability to do so because he had become one of us.  

Power of Song 

What is not often appreciated is that for centuries (emerging as custom probably in the 4th century and becoming a matter of decree with Charlemagne in the 9th), it was normal for the Creed to be sung as part of the worship service. Because it was not merely recited, but sung, the Creed took on the features of a “national anthem” for citizens of the Kingdom of Heaven. These days, ordinarily when Protestants use the Nicene Creed, they simply recite it. Maybe that’s a loss (though on festival days at the Cathedral Church of St. Luke in Orlando, we chant the Creed in monotone, accompanied by improvisation on the organ).  

Intrigued by the idea of singing it, and also because it’s embarrassing for me to have to read the Creed while all the cradle-to-grave Episcopalians around me say it from memory, I came upon plainsong chant versions in the hymnal, one in a minor key that feels a little like “O the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus,” and one in a major key that feels a lot like “Of the Father’s Love Begotten.”*  

Three surprises: 1) how easy it has been to memorize the text as song; 2) how differently the two tunes nuance the text; 3) and most importantly, how having the chanted Creed in my being makes its truth sing in my soul.  

Many Songs, One Voice 

There are many ways to declare the faith in worship, from Martin Luther’s “A Mighty Fortress,” to Graham Kendrick’s “We Believe,” to Rich Mullins’ “Creed,” to the simplest affirmations of God’s goodness, like Darrell Evans’ “Trading My Sorrow” (“Yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, yes, Lord, Amen!”). We all have different settings … and different souls.  

For all of us, though, there’s a power in how singing the faith anchors truth in us, augmenting what we know, re-focusing what we read, and shaping what we practice. There’s a Presence in how singing the faith binds us together, making us both His and one another’s. “So say we all!” 

Be blessed this day,  

Reggie Kidd+ 

* Respectively, S 103 in the Episcopalian Hymnal 1982, and S 361 in the Hymnal 1982 Accompaniment Edition. 

A Place to Sanctify - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Monday • 5/20/2024 •

We’re taking a detour from the Daily Office readings this week. In our Daily Office Devotions, we’ll consider several aspects of worship: corporate and personal. The thoughts offered here are excerpts from articles I wrote for Worship Leader magazine a few years ago.

“COLOR ADDED” 

Some of us serve in a building that is an unadorned, multimedia-accommodating “box” that we are able to treat as a canvas for telling God’s story. We can fill it with lights and sights and sounds any way we wish, any time we wish. I have spent many of my ministry years in such a setting. It’s a delight to play with visual and aural textures, and to take on the challenge of imagining anew the Christian story week after week.  

Some of us serve in a building that is clearly and intentionally designed for “church.” I am spending the present phase of my ministry in this sort of setting: a cathedral of Gothic Revival design. Stained glass panels encompass the worship space with a rehearsal of the biblical story. An altar is both the visual and liturgical focal point of the room. Pulpit to the side, but elevated and extending out toward the congregation. Pipe organ. Pews with kneelers. A lingering scent of incense. I am learning that fixed features can bring their own delight.  

Permanence… 

The New Testament portrays the Church as something that is both dynamic and changing, on the one hand, and solid and immovable, on the other. To be sure, the Church is made up of “living stones,” and is constantly growing (1Peter 2:5; Ephesians 2:21). At the same time, Christ’s Church is also “the pillar and foundation of the truth” (1Timothy 3:16). It’s as though we need “wings to fly” and “feet firmly planted.” Opposites? No, not really.  

I am appreciating the way the building I’m in communicates the solidity of our faith. Twelve massive pillars – each bearing the shield of one of the 12 apostles – surround us as we worship. Stained glass panels depict Jesus’ life and ministry on the lower level, and Old and New Testaments saints on the upper level. It’s marvelous to be surrounded by such a great “cloud of witnesses.”  

… But Not Perfection 

No other entity on earth will last beyond the Lord’s return – no government, no economy, no relationship – only Christ and his Bride, the Church. Nor, even in this age, it seems to me, is there any more compelling an argument to be made for the truth of the faith than the existence of the Church itself. As Cardinal Ratzinger (before becoming Pope Benedict XVI) offered: “The only really effective apologia for Christianity comes down to two arguments, namely, the saints the Church has produced and the art which has grown in her womb.” 

What speaks so profoundly about the Church’s existence is that we are a community of people who are forgiven and know it. Flawed and owning it. Loved in spite of ourselves, thus under compulsion to love in response.  

A Mystery 

Early in my days at the cathedral after a worship service, I was surveying the Old and New Testament figures portrayed in the stained glass panels around the top of the building. It was no small help that the names of the saints were part of each panel. But there was one panel that nearly stumped me. It was a panel of Moses, but from my vantage point below, it looked like the name “Moses” was upside down and backwards, and indeed it was. 

A number of people I asked had the impression it had been done that way on purpose to “remind generations that only God is perfect.” Anne Michels, the Cathedral Archivist, had heard that account for years, and called Willet Studios in Philadelphia to confirm the story. (They created our stained glass … as well as the stained glass in the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C.) According to Willet Studios, when the Moses stained glass was installed in the late 1980s, the panel with his name was inserted upside down by accident. The letters (as you can see) are stylized. Nobody seemed to notice the mistake until the work was finished. At that point, they were left alone. And as such, they stood as a reminder that only God is perfect, or in Anne Michels’s words, “they are for us a message of the futility of works. If we try to work our way to perfection, we’ll never get there.” 

The mistake was allowed to stand until we had it corrected in 2020. Whenever I look up at Moses, I am reminded, as a friend put it to me, that “the most beautiful of our creations this side of glory are still fallen creations. We are forgiven people, living in hope.” People who talk that way let me know I am where I need to be. Those are the kind of lives that commend the faith. This is the kind of art that grows – by a combination of inspired purpose and providential accident – in the womb of the church.  

Symbolic East …  

Early Christians were known for praying facing the east. That’s because, notes Gregory of Nyssa (central Asia Minor, 4th century), East is the birthplace of humankind and the earthly garden of paradise. As Thomas Aquinas (Italy, 13th century) was later to observe: East is the place of our Lord – his life and death, and the direction from which he will come on judgment day.  

Jesus’ incarnation, death, and resurrection is the dawn of new creation. That’s what John the Baptist’s father, Zechariah, anticipated when he sang about “the rising Sun” visiting us (Luke 1:78 NJB – the term is anatolē, lit., “east,” a term that was understood either to refer to the morning star, Venus, or to the rising sun itself). That’s what early Christians recalled when they noticed that the Greek Old Testament had translated the messianic promise of a “Branch” (Heb. tsemaḥ) as “Dawn” (NET – again, anatolē; Zechariah 3:8; 6:12; Jeremiah 23:5). 

Accordingly, when Christians began building church buildings, they put them on an east-west axis when they could – the door of entry to the west, and the pulpit and Table to the east. We came from Paradise … then lost Paradise through a bad exchange and are being reoriented to Paradise through our Second Adam’s mission of love to regain his Bride. That cosmology – that symbolic shaping of our world – alone gives us our bearings in a world that has no bearings.  

To reinforce that symbolic reshaping of space, my church is laid out on an east-west axis – except for this: it’s backwards. So the architectural plans show literal east as “Symbolic West” and literal west as “Symbolic East.” I love that! Getting true directionality is clearly not about literalism. That means it doesn’t especially matter whether you have stained glass or screens, pews or cafeteria chairs, an organ or a band, you can point “east,” as long as you know what you are looking for. 

… With “Color Added” 

I’ve served urban and suburban churches, and churches in university towns and in beach towns. I’ve appreciated the way each has acknowledged and embraced the place of its setting. Orlando, Florida, was a small town in the 1920s when the cathedral was built. Back then Central Florida was awash in citrus groves, not tourist attractions. To honor its city’s roots and to help to tell its “story,” the cathedral frames one of the stained glass panels – one that places Jesus among his disciples – with stained glass oranges. In letters barely large enough to see, one of the oranges bears the characteristic citrus industry stamp: “COLOR ADDED.”  

“There are no unsacred places,” offers Wendell Berry, “there are only sacred places and desecrated places.” The Lord has given each of us a place to sanctify. Whether with technology that is dazzling and electronic or that is simple and acoustic, whether across a canvas that constantly evolves or within a fixed environment that stolidly invites you to discover its nuances, may we embrace, enhance, and redeem local “color.” 

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+ 

Because He... - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Friday • 5/17/2024 •

Friday of the 7th Week of Easter

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 102; Jeremiah 31:27-34; Ephesians 5:1-20; Matthew 9:9-17

This morning’s Canticles are: before the Psalm reading, Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); following the OT reading, Canticle 10 (“The Second Song of Isaiah,” Isaiah 55:6–11; BCP, p. 86); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 18 (“A Song to the Lamb,” Revelation 4:11; 5:9–10, 13, BCP, p. 93)

“Follow me.”— Matthew 9:9. Jesus commands, and Matthew simply obeys. Why does Matthew follow him? Our passage provides but an indirect hint. Matthew is a tax collector. He is therefore reckoned among “the sinners” by “the righteous” (Matthew 9:11). He is among those who recognize they are sick, and in need of a physician (Matthew 9:12-13)—that they are worn out by life, and need to be made new (Matthew 9:14-17). 

What makes me follow Jesus? I see some of myself in Matthew. In addition, our readings today give me ample reason to follow. 

Because he is God. — Hebrews 1:10-12 is a direct quote of Psalm 102:25-27 (from today’s psalm): “But you are the same, and your years will never end.” In Psalm 102, these verses anchor the psalmist’s hope “in the day of my trouble” (see verse 1). His troubles come from enemies (v. 8), from his recognition of God’s indignation at his sin (v. 10), from his feeling of homelessness (v. 17), and from a creeping fear of death (vv. 11, 24). With verses 25-27, the psalmist places his destiny in the hands of the Lord who is eternal. 

The fascinating thing is that in Hebrews these verses conclude the writer’s argument that Jesus is God. Psalm 102 affirms the eternality and the deity of Jesus Christ, says the writer to the Hebrews. And whether Matthew the tax collector realized it in that moment when Jesus told him “Follow me,” or whether it dawned on him over time, he came to see it as well. Matthew’s Gospel is the one that tells us that Jesus’s name means Emmanuel, “God with us.” 

So, with Matthew, I follow Jesus because he is God. 

Because he makes sin go away.  Jeremiah speaks of a new covenant that’s not like the old covenant. The old covenant, announced on Mt. Sinai and engraved on tablets of stone, did more to convict people of their sin than it did to mold them into the kingdom of priests they were called to be. The old covenant relied on sacrifice after sacrifice to provide covering for sin after sin. Jeremiah looks to a new covenant that brings the law’s work into the human heart where it can produce transformation, not just demand it. The premise of that new covenant is one single sacrifice that finally cleanses consciences once and for all. That sacrifice, in addition, gives God a sort of holy amnesia: “I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more” (Jeremiah 31:34; Hebrews 8:12). 

Image: Pixabay

Did Matthew catch a glimpse of that hope when Jesus told him “Follow me”? Who knows? But by the time he wrote his Gospel he definitely did! Of the three Gospel accounts of the institution of the Last Supper, it is Matthew’s alone that echoes the amazing scene in Exodus 24, when the elders saw Moses take blood from the sacrificed oxen, dash it on the people, and say, “See, the blood of the covenant which the Lord has made with you…” (Exodus 24:8). Matthew alone recalls Jesus speaking of the sacrifice he was about to make as “my blood of the covenant” (Matthew 26:28). As the writer to the Hebrews makes clear: the one last sacrifice to end all sacrifice, by clearing all sin and covering all transgression once and for all: “For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are sanctified” (Hebrews 10:14, and context).

So, with Matthew, I follow Jesus because he has dealt with sin—and my sin—for good. 

Because he breathes life into the deadness of my being. “But be filled with the Spirit,” says the apostle Paul in Ephesians 5:18. Sin taken care of, transformation can take place. Transformation occurs when the Spirit who raised him from the dead and who now resides in us breathes fresh life into us. The breath of the Spirit draws us out of the walking sleep-death of “fornication, impurity, greed (which is idolatry),” and into the robustness of wise living, thanksgiving, praise, and above all, love. How ironic that this new life is the opposite of pursuits that people undertake in the name of freedom, fulfillment, and fun. The Bible characterizes those pursuits as representing a coma of sorts: an internal deadness, a lack of awareness of being truly and vibrantly alive, of being incapable of understanding the authentic nature of love. 

Christ lives in us now! He’s writing God’s law on our hearts by the Spirit! He ushers us from the darkness of spiritual stupor and into the light of full awakening! “‘Sleeper, awake! Rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you’” (Ephesians 5:14). Perhaps Matthew did, or perhaps he didn’t, immediately sense the newness of life offered in Jesus’s “Follow me.” But at some point, he did come to understand (because he wrote about it) that Jesus was refashioning him into a new wineskin so that he could be a vessel of the new wine of new life (Matthew 9:17). 

So, I follow Jesus because, with Matthew, I choose newness over senescence. I choose life over death. I choose being awake over being in perpetual torpor. I choose the breath of the Spirit over the sour aftertaste of mere amusement. 

May you, this day, follow Jesus—and in following him, may you know his divine protection, may you revel in the forgiveness he has won for you, and may you breathe in the fresh wind of his Spirit. 

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+

A Different Kind of People - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Thursday • 5/16/2024 •

Thursday of the 7th Week of Easter

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 105:1-22; Zechariah 4:1-14; Ephesians 4:17-32; Matthew 9:1-8

This morning’s Canticles are: before the Psalm reading, Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); following the OT reading, Canticle 8 (“The Song of Moss,” Exodus 15, BCP, p. 85); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 19 (“The Song of the Redeemed,” Revelation 15:3–4, BCP, p. 94)

A Priest and a King: A feature of the book of Zechariah is the expectation that after the exile, Israel will be rebuilt and ruled by a priest and a king. Zechariah looks forward to a messianic age where the high priest Joshua, son of Jehozadak, and the future king Zerubbabel (“a man whose name is Branch”) will rule together in peace. One can’t help but think of the book of Hebrews, where Jesus is described as prophet, priest, and king.  (If you’d like to read further in Zechariah, chapters 8 and 9 describe the reign of the victorious yet humble Messiah who rides into Jerusalem on a donkey—see especially Zechariah 9:9)

Zechariah prophesies that the Temple will be rebuilt, and Jerusalem will be refortified. As mentioned in yesterday’s devotional, Zechariah and other prophets of the time understand that the glory of the second temple, however, will not match that of the first temple that Solomon built. But Zechariah says that these “small beginnings” (Zechariah 4:10 NET) are not to be despised. 

Israel’s stature among the nations—even at the height of Solomon’s reign with its massive building projects and extensive alliances—never depended on military prowess or political sagacity. The reality was always, as Zechariah puts it here: “Not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit, says the Lord of hosts” (Zechariah 4:6). 

That’s a word to remember in good times, and in bad. When things flourish, it’s by God’s Spirit. And when things appear to be in decline, his Spirit is still at work—for those who have eyes to see.

Image: Pixabay

A different kind of people. The apostle Paul had to contend with “small beginnings,” as well. Christian believers in Ephesus represented a tiny percent of the population of one of the Roman Empire’s larger and more robust cities. Ephesus was marked, according to Paul, by hardness of heart toward the things of God. He describes the city’s chief values as immorality, greed, deceit, anger, thievery. He calls upon Christ’s followers to be a colony, instead, of those who have “put away your former way of life, your old self, corrupt and deluded by its lusts, and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and to clothe yourselves with the new self, created according to the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness” (Ephesians 4:22-23). They are to live in such a way as to delight God, not grieve him; and to model a kindness and readiness to forgive exactly like the kindness and forgiveness that have been extended to them in Christ. 

We have our own world of bad actors, rudderless fellow citizens, childish leaders, megalomaniacal despots, and brutal authorities. 

We can be a different kind of people—especially now, in a world of new adjustments and changes, through our own personal small beginnings: small obediences, small courtesies, and small kindnesses. 

A Healer has come. Matthew’s account of the healing of the paralytic reminds us of three simple things: 1) at the bottom of all things that afflict us—from physical maladies to social breakdown—is the reality of sin and the curse on the creation God loves; 2) the one who has authority and power to forgive and heal is Jesus, who is both Son of God and Son of Man; and 3) we are here to help each other find the Healer: “some people were carrying a paralysed man lying on a bed. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Take heart, son…’” (Matthew 9:2). 

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+

A Time for Hope Once More - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Wednesday • 5/15/2024 •

Wednesday of the 7th Week of Easter

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 101; Psalm 109; Isaiah 4:2-6; Ephesians 4:1-16; Matthew 8:28-34

This morning’s Canticles are: before the Psalm reading, Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); following the OT reading, Canticle 11 (“The Third Song of Isaiah,” Isaiah 60:1–3,11a,14c,18–19, BCP, p. 87);  following the Epistle reading, Canticle 16 (“The Song of Zechariah,” Luke 1:68–79, BCP, p. 92)

Desolation straight ahead! Isaiah foresees desolation for Jerusalem at the hand of an invading army. He foretells exile to an alien land for the city’s residents. But for the people of Yahweh, destruction is never the last word. In today’s Daily Office, Isaiah looks into the future in both Isaiah 4 (the reading) and Isaiah 60 (the canticle). 

In Isaiah 4, Isaiah looks beyond desolation and exile, to prophesy the rising of a beautiful and glorious “branch”—that is, a Messiah from the line of Jesse. Isaiah sees proud survivors finding the land fruitful once again. In this same chapter, Isaiah sees fire cleansing the metaphorical filth of Jerusalem’s streets, followed by a protective cloud hovering over the city’s Mt. Zion. Like the cloud that accompanied Israel in the exodus, this cloud gives shade from heat and refuge and shelter from storm and rain.

In Isaiah 60, the prophet calls upon his hearers to “arise” from the brokenness of their desolation, as the “glory of Yahweh” shines upon them and upon their city once again. On that day, the Branch of Yahweh will appear. Violence, ruin, and destruction will be no more. “Nations will stream to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawning.” Here is a preview of God’s plan for humankind: here is hope, not merely for Israel, but for the world.

Image: Pixabay

These prophecies received partial fulfillment when, at the behest of Persia, Israel enjoyed a return to the land following the Assyrian exile and Babylonian captivity. Ezra and Nehemiah undertook to rebuild the city’s defensive wall and the temple, although not at the scale of the original city. But, say the prophets of their day, this is reason enough to celebrate God’s kind favor and faithfulness: “For who dares make light of small beginnings?” (Zechariah 4:10 NET). The lesser rebuilding is itself a gift, a promise of something greater, and of God’s continued care for his people.

Centuries later, the “Branch”—Jesus Christ, Son of God and son of Jesse—appears. “And he said to [the demons], ‘Go!’” — Matthew 8:32. As the reading in Matthew demonstrates, he comes with power over all demonic forces as well as over nature, subject to corruption as it is. (Romans 8:18-23). God loves people. He loves each of us so much that he sent his only and eternal Son to become one of us, and to reconcile us—to restore us—to himself. Although damaged by the fall in Adam’s sin, creation—and we ourselves—await restoration and a greater “rebuilding.” With arms outstretched on a cross, Jesus offers himself as the means of that purgation of sin to which Isaiah alludes here in Isaiah 4:4 (a concept which he develops at length in his Song of the Suffering Servant: “the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all”—esp. Isaiah 53:6). Jesus offers himself not just to provide a perfect atonement for sin, but also therefore to secure a future hope of glory for those who trust him. 

Following the cross come the resurrection and ascension of Jesus. Then on the first Pentecost, as if in direct fulfillment of Isaiah’s visions, God’s glory cloud descends upon Mt. Zion, distributing tongues of fire—empowering the proclamation of a gospel that brings refining repentance and vivifying faith to wayward hearts. 

Paul’s letter to the Ephesians demonstrates the power of that gospel, as he urges Christ’s followers to “lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called … Bear with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.” —Ephesians 4:1-2. Paul is confident that Christ’s grace is strong enough to empower his church to “build itself up in love” (Ephesians 4:16). As that happens, the church becomes the visible manifestation of Pentecost power on the earth. God rebuilds, not a physical city with defensive walls, but an outward-facing, spiritual city, taking the good news of His love to the nations. 

Ours is a time for hope once more. Hope in the face of invading armies. Hope in the face of a poisoned political atmosphere. Hope in the face of revelations about human trafficking. Hope in the face of gun violence and intractable racial, ethnic, and economic cleavages. Hope in the face of opioid addiction. Hope in the face of personal failings and disappointments. The prophet Isaiah speaks hope even now, perhaps especially now.  We can know that God will not abandon us … ever. He loves you, and me, and he will not abandon us. 

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+

The Lord Looks on the Heart - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Tuesday • 5/14/2024 •

Tuesday of the 7th Week of Easter

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 97; Psalm 99; 1 Samuel 16:1-13; Ephesians 3:14-21; Matthew 8:18-27

This morning’s Canticles are: before the Psalm reading, Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); following the OT reading, Canticle 13 (“A Song of Praise,” BCP, p. 90);following the Epistle reading, Canticle 18 (“A Song to the Lamb,” Revelation 4:11; 5:9–10, 13, BCP, p. 93)

This week’s readings in the Daily Office, particularly the Old Testament and the Epistle readings, highlight an amazing truth: Ascension and Pentecost together mean the re-centering of Christ’s ministry in two places at once: simultaneously at the Father’s right hand in body, and inside us and among us by the Holy Spirit. 

… but the Lord looks on the heart. — 1 Samuel 16:8. In today’s passage, it doesn’t matter that David’s family thinks him unworthy to be included in the gathering for Samuel’s visit. David, the boy shepherd, is fit to be the Lord’s king because, “the Lord looks on the heart,” What God sees is an earnest and courageous devotion to him. With the Lord’s anointing comes the power of the Holy Spirit: “Then Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him in the presence of his brothers; and the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward.” The power of the Spirit quickly becomes manifest as David defends God’s honor against the giant Goliath and the Philistine pagan deities.  

Image: Adaptation, "Leadership: strong but sensitive" by sniggie is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

While it is David’s heart that qualifies him to be king, it is the Spirit he receives from on high that empowers him to be king. This passage points forward to Jesus, who receives his own kingly (and priestly) anointing by the Holy Spirit, in the form of a descending dove. Following that anointing, Jesus undertakes a solitary journey into the wilderness. Here he begins the subjugation of Satan by resisting his temptations. Then Jesus begins his ministry of teaching the Kingdom and displaying his power by calming storms (as in today’s gospel reading), healing the sick, forgiving sins, restoring sight to the blind, and raising the dead. Praise to God for taking pleasure in the heart of his own Son, and for empowering him as he sets out to crush and destroy sin, death, and the devil for us. 

… I pray that … you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit … — Ephesians 3:16. Paul prays that Christ may dwell in our hearts by the Spirit, and there give us an overwhelming sense of his love for us—and thus we may “be filled with all the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:19). What Paul prays for us here is almost audacious: that our hearts would be made like David’s, and that we might have the same inner assurance that Jesus did of being deeply and profoundly loved by our Heavenly Father. And that, therefore, we might abide in our own portion of the power of the same Holy Spirit as David and Jesus. 

I hope today’s passages in 1 Samuel, Matthew, and Ephesians will help you reflect on and marvel at Christ’s loving presence, by his Spirit, in the very core of your being. And that you might live—and grow—and thrive as the Holy Spirit empowers you for his good purposes today.

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+

Read, Looking for the Mystery - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Monday • 5/13/2024 •

Monday of the 7th Week of Easter

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 89:1-18; Joshua 1:1-9; Ephesians 3:1-13; Matthew 8:5-17

This morning’s Canticles are: before the Psalm reading, Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); following the OT reading, Canticle 9 (“The First Song of Isaiah,” Isaiah 12:2–6, BCP, p. 86); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 19 (“The Song of the Redeemed,” Revelation 15:3–4, BCP, p. 94)

Today’s lesson: It’s not just that I read, but how I read. 

Read slowly. “… you shall meditate on it day and night…” — Joshua 1:8. Joshua is given formidable tasks and stupendous promises. And he’s given one principal resource: “all the law that my servant Moses commanded you … this book of the law.” The key to success in the tasks at hand lies in not deviating from what’s in that book. For all the verbal instructions that Yahweh will provide, he has revealed his heart and his mind, and has laid out the shape of relationship with him, in the written word. And that word must be internalized, taken in slowly, and “chewed on” (the literal meaning of the Hebrew word translated “meditate on”).  

So, the notion of the word “not depart[ing] out of your mouth” is graphic. Of course, in the abstract, it means “think about it” all the time. But the concrete image is quite vivid: “chew on it,” the way a cow chews its cud, or a dog worries its bone. That sort of reading presupposes reading slowly and reflectively. It calls for committing thoughts and phrases to memory, and for rolling them over on the tongue. It means constantly pondering their significance. It does not mean breezing through passages to put a check mark on a to-do list. That’s easy to do in an exercise like the Daily Office. Which is why I often have to make myself slow down, reread, and ask the Lord what I’m supposed to be getting today, as I look for key phrases to jump out and grab me.

Image: Adaptation, "Roman centurion at the Coliseum, Rome" by Andrew & Suzanne is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0.

It means committing some passages to memory. Good candidates from today’s reading in Joshua are: 

“This book of the law shall not depart out of your mouth; you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to act in accordance with all that is written in it. For then you shall make your way prosperous, and then you shall be successful.” (Joshua 1:8)

and:

“I hereby command you: Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)

Read, looking for the mystery. “…a reading of which will enable you to perceive my understanding of the mystery of Christ…” — Ephesians 3:4. Besides reading slowly, today’s passages commend a certain purpose in reading: looking for what God would reveal to you and to me about his Son, and about the way he is making all things new through his Son. 

For Paul, there is a twofold “mystery” hidden throughout the Old Testament, now being revealed for the world. That mystery is Christ and his Church. For example, in the first place, “Joshua” (translated “Jesus” in the Greek Old Testament) pictures ahead of time the One who will bear the same name when he comes to earth to conquer sin and death—as Paul describes the “mystery” in Colossians: “Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:27). In the second place, as the nation of Israel enters the Promised Land to become a colony of God’s rule, she depicts in advance Jesus’s Church growing into a house for God’s dwelling (Ephesians 2:22): “the mystery of Christ…that is, the Gentiles have become fellow-heirs, members of the same body, and sharers in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel” (Ephesians 3:4b, 6). 

A Christ-filled interpretive imagination can get carried away with itself, of course (early theologians could find Christ’s blood in Rahab’s red rope). But our imaginations can also become dull to the fact that “the ends of the ages” have fallen upon us (1 Corinthians 10:11). We can too easily forget that, at its heart, the whole of the Bible points to Christ. I should read, asking Christ to show himself and what he’s doing to bring people into fellowship with him and with one another. And then for him to show me where I fit in those purposes—even in what lies ahead today. 

Read as under authority. Centurion: “For I also am a man under authority” … Jesus: “Truly I tell you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith.” — Matthew 8:9a, 10b. Finally, I need to read, expecting marching orders! This centurion was accustomed to responding to superiors who communicated to him through messengers. He knew that Jesus, like the centurion’s own superiors, spoke with such authority that Jesus wouldn’t physically need to be some place for his commands to be enforced. 

The faithful centurion knew that dutiful messengers don’t speak for themselves. We know that faithful Scripture writers don’t either. When I read them, I need to listen for the voice of their Master and mine. As Peter puts it: “It was not on any human initiative that prophecy came: rather, it was under the compulsion of the Holy Spirit that people spoke as messengers of God” (2 Peter 1:21 REB). 

From the Catechism in the Book of Common Prayer.

Q. Why do we call the Holy Scriptures the Word of God?

A. We call them the Word of God because God inspired their human authors and because God still speaks to us through the Bible.

Be blessed this day,

Reggie Kidd+

Mercy and Truth Have Met Together - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Friday • 5/10/2024 •

Friday of the 6th Week of Easter

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalms 85 & 86; 1 Samuel 2:1-10; Ephesians 2:1-10; Matthew 7:22-27

This morning’s Canticles are: Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); following the OT reading, Canticle 10 (“The Second Song of Isaiah,” Isaiah 55:6–11; BCP, p. 86); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 18 (“A Song to the Lamb,” Revelation 4:11; 5:9-10, 13, BCP, p. 93)

I love it every seven weeks when Psalm 85 rolls back around in the Daily Office. Every time, a single verse from this psalm brings everything else going on around me to a halt. I have to pause to take it in once again:

Mercy and truth have met together; *
righteousness and peace have kissed each other (Psalm 85:10).

Image: Adaptation, Pixabay

Think about the wonder of what’s being said here. Deep within the wonder of God’s very being, seeming opposites coalesce. The unbreakable truth of God’s Law meets the tenderness of God’s mercy. The unbending rectitude of his righteous justice kisses the loving peaceability of his heart. He must judge rightly, and he loves endlessly. The Bible, then, as a whole turns out to be a telling of the epic of this dynamic—this “meeting” and this “kissing”—as it is played out on the world stage, culminating at the cross of Calvary. There truth and mercy meet. There righteousness and peace kiss. There, as the apostle Paul puts it, God shows himself to be “just and justifier” (Romans 3:26).

This verse from Psalm 85 reminds me of the 18th century Welsh hymn, “Here is love,” which includes this verse:

On the mount of crucifixion fountains opened deep and wide;
through the floodgates of God’s mercy flowed a vast and gracious tide.
Grace and love, like mighty rivers, poured incessant from above,
and heaven’s peace and perfect justice kissed a guilty world in love.

What an arresting line, that last one: “Heaven’s peace and perfect justice kissed a guilty world in love.”

“Here Is Love,” at “The Event Without Walls,” Exeter Showground, 1995

“Here Is Love,” sung by Matt Redman

Ephesians 2 finds the apostle Paul reveling, in the first place, in the way that the walking dead—unworthy sinners, all—have been, out of the richness of God’s mercy, made alive in Christ. Indeed, they have been raised up and seated in the heavenly places right alongside the ascended ruling Christ (Ephesians 2:1-10, today’s epistle reading). In the second place, Ephesians 2 shows Paul glorying over the way that formerly alienated people—Jew and Gentile—have been made one, since Christ has become their peace (Ephesians 2:11-21, tomorrow’s epistle reading). Truth and mercy. Righteousness and peace.

Accordingly, at the end of the Sermon on the Mount, in our gospel reading, Jesus urges (I paraphrase): “build your life on the solid rock of this truth, not on the sand of your own machinations and strivings. Don’t think you can approximate God’s righteousness on your own merit. Don’t think you can presume to find mercy apart from ‘my blood of the covenant’ (Matthew 26:28). Take the whole package deal. Take me,” he says, “because in me, mercy and truth meet. Take me, because in me, righteousness and peace kiss. Take me, because in me, heaven’s peace and perfect justice kissed a guilty world in love.”

Be blessed this day.

Reggie Kidd+

Crowned with Glory and Honor - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Thursday • 5/9/2024 •

Thursday of the 6th Week of Easter

Today is the Feast of the Ascension of Christ

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalms 8 & 47; Daniel 7:9-14; Hebrews 2:5-18; Matthew 28:16-20

This morning’s Canticles are: Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); following the OT reading, Canticle 8 (“The Song of Moses,” Exodus 15, BCP, p. 85); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 19 (“The Song of the Redeemed,” Revelation 15:3-4, BCP, p. 94)

You give him mastery over the works of your hands; you put all things under his feet. — Psalm 8:7. The majesty of the heavens makes David, in Psalm 8, ponder the wonder of the Lord’s having put us humans at the pinnacle of creation. David is in awe of the status that we have been given—crowned with glory and honor, overseers of a dominion where everything is life, no death; cooperative effort, minus coercion or corruption; productivity without waste. 

I love the way the artist Ari Gradus (www.ari-gradus.com) imagines our relationship with the creation in his painting Spirit - Creation. The form of Adam emerges from the ground. His posture is one of wondrous praise. It’s as though all earth’s plenitude streams out from him, or at least revolves around him—as though the glory of image-bearing flows out with its own creative, life-giving energy. Even though that’s an inversion of the order of the Genesis account, it captures the biblical logic of humans being the fulcrum and crown of creation.

And yet…

As it is, we do not yet see everything in subjection to them… — Hebrews 2:8b. Perhaps one of the greatest understatements of all time. The writer to the Hebrews takes up Psalm 8’s celebration of the dignified place of humans in the scheme of things. But he notes that what we see—what we experience—is not what Psalm 8 envisions. As it is, we don’t see humans large-and-in-charge. As it is, we don’t see humans proudly reflecting the glory. As it is, we don’t see ourselves here and now as lords and ladies of God’s creatures.

In a second painting, titled Paradise Lost, Ari Gradus captures this “As it is…” insight. No, since the Garden, “we do not see everything in subjection to him.” Instead, the bitter fruit of the bite from the forbidden fruit leaves us cringing and fleeing for shelter. Creation devolves into a serpentine swirl of threatening globs, all of them indistinct, except for the ones in the shape of the forbidden fruit. Adam and Eve have dropped the fruit with the missing bite to the ground, where it lies at the front of the painting. Several forbidden fruit seem to chase the unhappy couple down, threatening to rain down upon them.

“As it is,” indeed. We are supposed to be the crown of creation. But starting early in 2020, we found ourselves plagued by an ironically named coronavirus, “corona” being the Latin word from which we get “crown.” Originally, “corona” meant a “wreath” of honor or “garland” of majesty. The microscopic coronavirus is covered with super-microscopic crowns. When the coronavirus invisibly invades our being, it connects itself to our lungs with those grabby crowns, so it can claim us and kill us. It’s brought our economy to its knees. It’s made us mask ourselves from one another and has caused us to be fearful of getting within six feet of each other. Even the confinement it has forced on us has led to things like increased domestic violence and substance abuse. The helplessness we feel, the sense of attack we experience—they are a parable of what it is to live with “Paradise Lost.”

…but we do see Jesus… — Hebrews 2:9a. Then again, this is Ascension Day. And the writer to the Hebrews doesn’t quote Psalm 8 to push us further into despair. He wants us to look up and see that at the right hand of the Father sits Jesus. There in advance of us is our Champion—once “made lower than the angels” and “suffering…death and tasting death for everyone,” now “crowned with glory and honor [also] for us” (Hebrews 2:9). He is there because paradise has been regained.

There, according to the writer to the Hebrews, quoting Psalm 22:22, he proclaims the Father’s name to us, a name of holy blessing (Hebrews 2:12; and see Numbers 6:23-27). And there, according to the same psalm, he sings a hymn of praise to the Father (Hebrews 2:12). He proclaims the truth that our sins have been atoned for, “our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water” (Hebrews 10:22). He sings us out of shame and into his fellowship as his brothers and sisters (Hebrews 2:11). He announces—and loudly, I submit!—that he has “destroy[ed] the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and free[d] those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death” (v. 15). As “merciful and faithful high priest,” he tunes our voices for the singing of praise to the Father who has provided complete atonement and timely help (2:18; see also 4:16).

Collect of the Day: Ascension Day. Almighty God, whose blessed Son our Savior Jesus Christ ascended far above all heavens that he might fill all things: Mercifully give us faith to perceive that, according to his promise, he abides with his Church on earth, even to the end of the ages; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.

Be blessed this day.

Reggie Kidd+

The One True Israelite - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Wednesday • 5/8/2024 •

Wednesday of the 6th Week of Easter

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 78:1-39; Leviticus 26:1-20; 1 Timothy 2:1-6; Matthew 13:18-23

This morning’s Canticles are: Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); following the OT reading, Canticle 13 (“A Song of Praise,” BCP, p. 90); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 18 (“A Song to the Lamb,” Revelation 4:11; 5:9-10, 13, BCP, p. 93)

From the depths to the heights today!

Dark days ahead for a failed Israel. Leviticus’s perspective is that Israel’s failure in her call to be a kingdom of priests and a light to the nations is inevitable. Israel’s life would be a colossal exercise in reductio ad absurdum—exile would be the absurd end of the God-rejecting logic of their lives. Called to make human life flourish, they would become cannibals. Called to cultivate worship of the true and living God, their carcasses would be piled upon the carcasses of their idols. Called to give the land rest, they would be forced into a frenzied fleeing from enemies (real and imagined) so, yes, the land could rest from them.

This is excruciating material. Small wonder the entire drift of modernity has been to project a different image up into the heavens—an image that looks like the best and the kindest that we can imagine in ourselves—and then call that projected image “God.” From Ludwig Feuerbach’s “God is the infinity of our own nature” to Eric Fromm’s “humanistic god”—though not everyone is especially honest about it—especially the theologians who mask it under other names, like Paul Tillich’s “Ultimate Concern.” Then again, it’s not a uniquely modern project. In the second century, the heretic Marcion erroneously rejected the Old Testament God of Vengeance (whose voice we hear especially strongly here in Leviticus 26), and replaced him with the New Testament God of Love.

Image: Pixabay

One True Israelite. Indeed, a passage like today’s from Leviticus 26 would be the most depressing, nightmarish of scenarios, were it not for the fact that One True Israelite would, in time, answer the call to circumcise His heart (see Leviticus 26:41). The “circumcision of Christ” (see Colossians 2:11) would begin in the waters of the River Jordan—a symbolic drowning, and a second crossing of the Jordan into the Promised Land. The circumcision of Christ would become complete when this One True Israelite would humble himself (again, Leviticus 26:41) to the indignity of a cruel Roman cross, and thereby “make amends for their iniquity” (once more, Leviticus 26:41). What’s more, that True Israelite—Son of their greatest king—would also be the embodiment of Yahweh himself, David’s Lord (Psalm 110:1). So, what he would accomplish, he would accomplish perfectly—on behalf of us, and on behalf of God (Matthew 22:41-45).

All of this happens in the New Testament, not by its authors refashioning God, but by their taking with utmost seriousness the full force of the language of God’s “fury” against sin and “abhorrence” of everything in us that finds sin so delightful. Against that evil, the New Testament sees God waging perfect warfare—Himself plunging into drowning waters of purgation, nailing our offenses to a cross, and one ultimately, of His own making (Colossians 2:14).

Savoring the victory. Paul writes his letter to the Ephesians in the wake of the realization that Israel’s failure had led to her greatest glory: bearing to the world the mystery the “glorious grace that [our God and Father] freely bestowed on us in the Beloved … redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses.” This rich treasure, “as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.”

It’s only in recognizing the terrifying, blazing fury of God against sin which Moses records in Leviticus 26 that we are able, with the apostle Paul in Ephesians 1, to appreciate the beauty of who Christ is and the magnitude of what he has done to bring us into a restored relationship with God. May his name be forever praised.

Collect for the Sixth Sunday of Easter. O God, you have prepared for those who love you such good things as surpass our understanding: Pour into our hearts such love towards you, that we, loving you in all things and above all things, may obtain your promises, which exceed all that we can desire; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Be blessed this day.

Reggie Kidd+

Our Hearts Are Fertile Ground - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Tuesday • 5/7/2024 •

Tuesday of the 6th Week of Easter

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 78:1-39; Leviticus 26:1-20; 1 Timothy 2:1-6; Matthew 13:18-23

This morning’s Canticles are: Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); following the OT reading, Canticle 13 (“A Song of Praise,” BCP, p. 90); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 18 (“A Song to the Lamb,” Revelation 4:11; 5:9-10, 13, BCP, p. 93)

Today’s passages from the Psalms, Leviticus, and Matthew are strong warnings about a failure of faith. They caution against allowing oneself to become impervious to God’s abundant grace.

Hard ground. In Jesus’s parable, hard ground simply makes the seed bounce off it. Psalm 78 sees in Israelites’ stubbornness in the wilderness an imperviousness to God’s grace. God rains down manna, “bread of angels … food enough.” But it wasn’t enough: “they did not stop their craving” (v. 29) … “they had no faith in his wonderful works” (v. 32). The goodness of God’s seed was falling on hard, dry, impenetrable ground.

Do not let that happen with me. Lord, have mercy.

Shallow ground shows hollow early promise. When the truths of God’s Word (even if I assent to them) don’t connect with the longings of my heart, those truths don’t get written to the “hard drive” of my being. They don’t connect with the core of my being. It’s like when I find myself in the garage and I can’t remember what I came there for (say, to get a nail so I could hang a picture). I start out with a purpose, but along the way I think about one thing and then another. By the time I get to the garage, the original intention is gone. It’s possible to experience an initial impulse to worship, obey, serve, even love. But the desire doesn’t last. It withers in the face of deeper, but lesser, impulses. It fades when faith doesn’t sustain it.

On the east bank of the Red Sea in the first blush of their exodus-rescue, the Israelites danced and sang the Song of Moses: “I will sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously” (Exodus 15:1). But the early joy faded: the wilderness journey was long and hard. Even “bread of angels” couldn’t satisfy the “cravings” (Psalm 78:24-30). “They had no faith in God, nor did they put their trust in his saving power” (Psalm 78:22). They forgot that Yahweh rescued them, and brought them where they were. They lost their confidence that Yahweh’s love would provide their needs on their way to their promised new home; and all he wanted was for them to love him in return.

“But I have this against you,” writes the angel to the church in Ephesus, “that you have left your first love” (Revelation 2:4). Never let me lose my first love. Christ, have mercy.

Image: Adaptation, Pixabay

Ground that will grow anything fails to distinguish between good and bad. Jesus’s point is that our hearts are fertile ground for all kinds of things—some good, some bad. Below the surface of every person are hidden motives and deep desires. I need to be discerning about what kind of “life” I allow my heart to cultivate. The Israelites of the Bible, for instance, are inclined to worship. That’s the wiring of their hearts. And that’s why Leviticus 26 leads with the command: “You shall make for yourselves no idols and erect no carved images or pillars … to worship at them. You shall keep my sabbaths and reverence my sanctuary” (Leviticus 26:2). Will they worship the true God his way? Or will they worship a god of their own fashioning? Or, just as bad, will they be so arrogant as to worship the true God—but in their own way?

Jesus forces probing questions with his words about thorns that choke: Do I believe that God is there, but when it comes to finding love, do I rely on lesser lovers? And when it comes to comfort, do I go to Jack Daniels or fill-in-the-blank? Do I believe that every person bears God’s image, but do I only care about the ones who can improve my lot? Do I believe I am to love my neighbor, but refuse to curb my freedom and wear a mask to protect their health? Do I believe Christ died for my sins, but justify my existence by being a people-pleaser? Do I believe my hope lies in Christ’s return, but find myself manic—or, alternatively, incapacitated—over how to protect my portfolio?

Let my heart be neither hard ground nor shallow ground nor indiscriminate ground. Let my heart be good ground for your Word. Lord, have mercy.

Collect for the Sixth Sunday of Easter. O God, you have prepared for those who love you such good things as surpass our understanding: Pour into our hearts such love towards you, that we, loving you in all things and above all things, may obtain your promises, which exceed all that we can desire; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Be blessed this day.

Reggie Kidd+