Game-Saving Wisdom - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Monday • 5/27/2024 •

We’re taking a detour from the Daily Office readings for a few days. Instead, we’ll be 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.   

  

From Centerfield: Athanasius, the Psalms, and Making the Right Play 

I once attended a college baseball game in which the crowd cheered a spectacularly dumb throw from deep centerfield to home plate. The throw itself was quite a feat (though it had no chance of catching the runner). But it was dumb, because it gave the game away by allowing what would become the tying run to get to second base. What could have saved the game would have been a less impressive throw to second base, keeping that runner at first. 

Four Ecumenical Councils took place between A.D. 325 and 451. They exemplified game-saving wisdom, of the sort the college centerfielder should have shown. 

Those Councils made four statements in response to spectacularly dumb things that were being said about Christ. The Councils’ statements can be crisply put, and their implications are profound: first, Christ is fully divine, since only God can save. Second, Christ is fully human, since “only that which is assumed can be healed.” Third, Christ is one integral person, since a bi-polar Savior could not restore us to inner wholeness. Fourth, Christ’s divine nature does not eclipse his human nature, since he came to glorify our humanity and not diminish it. 

A small often overlooked letter on the psalms by Athanasius, bishop of Alexandria and one of the inspirers of the Councils’ statements, sheds light on the origins of such spiritual and theological insight. 

A friend named Marcellinus wrote to Athanasius looking for guidance on how to get to know the psalms better. In his response, Epistle to Marcellinus, Athanasius sounds the very themes the Councils will later apply to Christ. 

Divinity 

In the Incarnation, God has funneled his fullness to us through one Man; in the Psalter, God has concentrated for us the whole Bible in miniature. Each of the other books, says Athanasius, “is like a garden which grows one special kind of fruit; by contrast, the Psalter is a garden which, besides its special fruit, grows also some of those of all the rest.” In Genesis, for example, we read about the creation; in Psalms 19 & 24 we celebrate creation in song. Exodus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy recount the exodus from Egypt; in Psalms 87, 105, 106, and 114 we “fitly sing it.” Impressively, Athanasius shows how virtually every theme of the Bible shows up somewhere in the Psalter. Through the psalms, God’s great cosmic story becomes our personal story as well. 

Humanity 

The psalms aren’t just a way into God’s story; they provide a mirror for our soul. In them, “you learn about yourself.” They describe us better than we can describe ourselves. Moreover, while other portions of Scripture tell us what to do, the Psalter shows us how. Elsewhere, for instance, Scripture tells us to repent, but the psalms “show you how to set about repenting and with what words your repentance may be expressed.” Elsewhere, Scripture tells us to bear up under persecution, but the psalms describe “how afflictions should be borne, and what the afflicted ought to say, both at the time and when his troubles cease.” 

Integrity 

Most of us can identify with the horrible split the apostle Paul experienced between his inner self and his outer self: “I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. … Wretched man that I am, who will deliver me from this body of death?” (Romans 7:19,24). Paul’s answer, of course, is Christ. The Councils affirmed, therefore, that Christ himself was unified, rather than split, in his Person. Otherwise, there’d be no hope for the splits within us. In the same vein, Athanasius encourages – no, urges – us not merely to read the psalms, but to sing them. When we sing, our inner being and our outer being work together: our “usual disharmony of mind and corresponding bodily confusion is resolved.” The result is that when we sing psalms, Christ heals our inner brokenness. 

Dignity 

Do you get the sense that some believers think that when Christ comes into their lives he replaces their souls? Do you know spiritual zombies you can’t even have a conversation with because all you get is Bible verses or spiritual clichés? 

Athanasius must have known people like that too. One of the most impressive things he does in his epistle is comment on almost every psalm, and invite Marcellinus to look – really look – at whatever life-situation he might find himself in and ask how that psalm could fortify him: “Has some Goliath risen up against the people and yourself? Fear not, but trust in God, as David did, and sing his words in Psalm 144.” 

The message: God wishes to meet you in your life, not give you some sort of escape button to get you out of your life. The psalms – like Christ himself – are here to enhance, not diminish, what it is to be fully human. 

Through practice and scrimmage and games and, well, simply breathing baseball, a centerfielder should know where to throw, without even having to think about it. Through worship and prayer and study and, well, simple immersion in the faith of the psalms, may we absorb their “game-saving wisdom.” 

Be blessed this day,  

Reggie Kidd+  

Ten Words - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Friday • 5/24/2024 •

Welcome to Daily Office Devotions, I’m Reggie Kidd, I’m glad to be with you on this Friday 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.   

  

Ten Words  

The most remarkable worship leader I ever knew didn’t lead singing. He didn’t play an instrument. Robert Webber (1933–2007) was an evangelical theologian who happened to fall in love with ancient liturgy. He held the past in one outstretched arm and the future in the other and proclaimed: “What Christ has joined together, let not the church put asunder.”   

Worship practitioners are also worship theologians. We always implement a theology of worship when we lead. Our job description may put us more or less “in control” of that theology. But most of us have some say in its shaping. Here are “ten words” from Webber – six from his liturgical, and four from his evangelical sensibility – that may serve you in your vision of what worship can be.    

Doxology. We gather for one thing: to honor God. Worship, of course, includes education and evangelism. It may even be entertaining. But worship is first and last doxological. Thus, it is theocentric, not narcissistic. Worship celebrates Christ as the central cosmic figure of the universe. Worship features God’s story, not our nation’s, not our favorite team’s, not our denominational tribe’s.  

Mystery. If God could be figured out or if he could be understood in his entirety, he wouldn’t be God. Sometimes he’s more real in his silence than in our answers. Some things get killed when they are over-explained. They just have to be allowed to be – to be experienced, not parsed.  

Incarnation. But God hasn’t left us in mystified befuddlement. He came in the very flesh of what we are. Jesus came as one of us, in order to redeem a creation God had made to be “good.” He reclaimed the world for God, so we tend it. He re-appropriated time, so we reshape it: B.C. and A.D.  

Sacraments. Christ meets us as material beings in material stuff. We’re not just dust. We’re not just spirit. We’re unified beings: dust that God has breathed into. We have ears to hear. Hands to raise. We have knees to kneel. Lips to drink, tongues to taste, noses to smell. 

History. This is the “Be true to your school” principle (via the Beach Boys). No matter how our church got its name (e.g., such-and-such saint, such-and-such street, such-and-such one word), every church came from somewhere. And we can help it be the best St. Matthew’s or Delaney Street or Cornerstone or whatever.  

Image:  Cathedral Church of St. Luke, Orlando, Florida (adaptation of Theo Gordon photo) 

Catholicity. This is the complementary principle that comes from St. Vincent of Lérins: “What has been believed everywhere, always, and by all.” Before there was a Reformation with its Confessions, Revivals with their sawdust trails, the Jesus Movement with its “New Song,” or Emergence with its eclecticism, there was a Great Church that gave us the Creeds and a remarkably common pattern of worship.  

Orthodoxy. Life is at stake in our holding forth true theological truths. It matters that there is one God in three persons (one hope for humanity because of the eternal community of love). It matters that Jesus is truly God and truly man (he has the authority to forgive and the nearness to heal). It matters that his work saves from the guilt of sin, from the despair of death, from the lovelessness of loneliness.  

Scripture. Evangelicals embrace Scripture as a non-negotiable formal principle. Wisely, we refuse the serpent’s hiss: “Hath God really said?” At the same time, the classical liturgy is Scripture-saturated and Scripture-shaped in ways that evangelical worship often is not (even if too many in liturgical churches are reluctant to confess the Bible’s absolute authority). How powerful it is when evangelical and liturgical sensibilities merge.  

Conversion. Each person matters. The actual faith of individual worshipers matters. It doesn’t matter how “cool” the ad-libbed prayer. It doesn’t matter how profound the historical litany. Neither means anything apart from regenerate hearts and personal faith. Worship tells God’s story so new characters can take their place in the storyline.  

Mission. The Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead and indwells us impels us into the world in mission. The worshiping church is neither a museum of quaint antiquities nor a mall of religious exotica. It’s an Ark, says St. Augustine, a place that offers refuge to sojourners “in this wicked world as in a deluge.” Into its walls of safety the one Righteous Man draws those who otherwise would drown, and then makes them co-heralds of his victory over sin and death, his Father’s love for sinners still outside, and the Spirit’s power to rescue them as well.  

Be blessed this day,  

Reggie Kidd+ 

Be Silent and Listen - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Thursday • 5/23/2024 •

Welcome to Daily Office Devotions, I’m Reggie Kidd, I’m glad to be with you on this Thursday 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.   

Be Still  

“Mr. Kidd, your mom’s heart is pumping blood as if she was 20 years old, not 91,” explains the ER doctor. 

Flabbergasted, I reply, “OK, so why’s she in the ER?” 

“She has congestive heart failure. (Pause, apparently taking in the blank look on my face.) Your heart has to have a constricting strength to pump blood out. She’s got plenty of that. But your heart also has to have an expanding strength to receive blood. Your mom’s heart is losing that ability. If the heart can’t relax and expand, blood can’t enter, and fluid gets backed up in the body. Eventually the congestion will take her out and cause her death. All we can do is manage things until that happens. I’m sorry.” 

Several months later my mom’s congestive heart failure was indeed being managed … for the time being. She was doing well, even if, as she said, “Getting old will either make you tough or kill you!” 

Heart Health 

My mom’s particular heart ailment – power-to-pump-out-but-not-to-take-in – had given me pause, though. I think of my laundry-list prayer life, and of my affection for non-stop, high-octane, über-decibel worship. Of all the pressures I feel to be producing, conducting, crafting, designing, tweaking, critiquing, supervising, and leading worship. I wonder about my spiritual heart-health – and that of those I’m leading.  

Shortly after my mom’s hospital stay, the Robert. E. Webber Institute for Worship Studies, where I teach, was in session. I was accustomed to then-Chaplain Darrell Harris leading our morning devotions with unusual spiritual perceptivity. But one morning I was caught unawares.  

I can’t go into detail – but let’s just say I was mired in some inner conflict. So, I’m pouring myself into the praise and prayer, looking to “worship” my way out of the funk. After his message Darrell says, “We go now to a period of silence. By silence, I mean silence. I don’t mean silent prayer. I don’t mean silent meditation on Scripture. I don’t mean rehearse your day’s schedule. I mean: be still. Be quiet, and just listen.”  

We knelt, and sang a lovely setting of “Be Still” (from Psalm 46:10a) that Darrell and Eric Wyse had written.  

Image: Fra Angelico , Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons 

Take in 

Then the silence set in – glorious quiet, healing peace, grace-filled silence. I felt my heart relax and expand. I felt Spirit entering. I felt conflict flee. When, after a few minutes passed, we rose to sing “The Lord’s Prayer” (Eric Wyse’s version is something of an IWS anthem) I rose a different person.  

In that moment I realized why the ancients revered silence, why many sought the desert, wanting to hear a voice the city drowned out. They knew the vision of God was a “Well, shut my mouth!” sort of affair: “The Lord is in his holy temple, let all the earth be silent before him” (Habakkuk 2:20). They noticed that in Scripture some visions demand modesty of expression: “Do not write this down” (Revelation 10:4). They observed that even in heaven itself when something big is about to happen, silence may be what the moment requires: “When the Lamb opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven for about a half an hour” (Revelation 8:1). They perceived that, like Job, if you get the audience you wish for with God you just may have to say: “I lay my hand on my mouth” (Job 40:4-5).  

Worship needs the same sort of rhythm our hearts require. Pump out: “I lift my hands in praise, for you are majestic and mighty and worthy of honor.” Take in: “You are merciful and tender of heart, and yet unsearchable in your judgments and inscrutable in your ways – and so I bow and wait and listen in silence.”   

Be blessed this day,  

Reggie Kidd+  

Telling Time by Jesus - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Wednesday • 5/22/2024 •

Welcome to Daily Office Devotions, I’m Reggie Kidd, I’m glad to be with you on this Wednesday 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.   

Telling Time by Jesus 

Roger wears two watches. Because he travels a lot, he sets the watch on his left wrist to whatever time zone he happens to be in. He sets the watch on his right wrist to the time zone “back home” in Switzerland, where his heart always is and where his family lives.  

Stability on the right wrist gives him equilibrium for all the changes on his left.  

Lost in Time 

A church is like a person whose left wrist is lined with watches that demand we keep up with different “time zones” all at the same time. There’s church programming for the fall. There’s Christmas ramp-up. There’s the first of the year blues. There’s Easter ramp-up. There’s the summer doldrums. There’s always some sports season time that affects people’s attendance and attention span (are we on NFL, NBA, or MLB time?). There’s “Hallmark” time (Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Memorial Day, Independence Day).  

God gave Israel a pattern of life, from the beginning of the year at Rosh Hashanah. Thus he taught her to number her days according to his provision for spiritual and physical life. The church understood – and so Paul taught them – not to come under the calendar as law (see Gal. 4:10). Nonetheless, the church also understood – and so Paul also taught them – that Christ has brought “the fullness of time,” the time of “new creation” (Gal 4:7; 6:15).  

Image: Image: from "My 2006 March Madness picks" by jakebouma is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0; "Happy 4th of July! The American Flag in Fireworks" by Beverly & Pack is marked with CC PDM 1.0; Arturo Pardavila III from Hoboken, NJ, USA, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons; Super Bowl image – public domain 

Christ Our Measure 

Over time, the church sensed that we needed to “name” the time that God had “claimed.” And so over the first several centuries of the church a fairly wide consensus emerged that we would order our days according to the life of Jesus Christ.  

The Christian New Year begins with Advent, the four Sundays before Christmas when we anticipate the incarnation of our Lord. We rehearse the Old Testament promises and the annunciation to Mary. We remember that Christ has come, and we celebrate the fact that Christ does come now in our lives and will come again at the end of the age.  

Celebrate 

From December 25 and for the next 12 days (the original “12 Days of Christmas”) we rejoice in his birth. We exult at the fact that Christ’s incarnation is the beginning of the destruction of all that is evil.  

From January 6 up until Ash Wednesday, we celebrate Epiphany, the “Manifestation” of Christ in his mission to become Lord of the whole world. Here, worship focuses on Christ’s baptism, his turning water into wine, his teaching, healing, and preaching – and his transfiguration as he prepares to journey to Jerusalem.  

Reflection, Fasting and Prayer 

Beginning on Ash Wednesday, in anticipation of Easter we spend 40 days considering the call of the cross, a season called Lent. Lent climaxes with Holy Week: Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday (concluding with the best kept secret of the Christian year, the Great Easter Vigil).  

Easter is more than a day – it’s a season, running from Easter Sunday to Pentecost Sunday, fifty days later: 7 weeks of Easter! While many modern churches put more of their energy into celebrating Christmas, the ancient church highlighted Easter. Christ lives, and so shall we! During the Easter season, worship emphasizes Christ’s post-resurrection appearances and teachings.  

The Great Mission 

From fifty days after Easter to the first Sunday in Advent (almost half the calendar year!) we celebrate Pentecost and the pouring out of the Holy Spirit. At Pentecost in Jerusalem, the Holy Spirit reversed the curse of Babel and launched the church’s mission to the nations. The extended Pentecost season gives us ample opportunity to reflect on our place in that great mission.  

In the Christian calendar, the church offers a timepiece for the “right wrist” that anchors us in the “back home” of God and his story. We’re not just passing time according to the secular calendar or sports seasons or greeting cards. We are defined by our relationship with Christ, and he is the one by whom we tell time.  

Be blessed this day,  

Reggie Kidd+ 

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+