How Can I Keep from Singing? - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Wednesday • 1/8/2025 •

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.   

I Know Why the Prisoner Sings * 

For two millennia, Christians have sung their theology—from catacombs to dorm rooms, and from cathedrals to football stadiums. Every distinctive shape the faith takes – each its own “Jesus Movement” – finds its own musical voice. Ambrose’s robust trinitarianism both created and was supported by the florid hymnody of the church of fourth-century Milan. Gregorian chant both bespoke a quest of a spiritual music for the church and announced the ascendancy of the medieval church. In the sixteenth century, Martin Luther trumpeted his newfound grace as much through broadsheets and hymns as through sermons and books.  

Along the way, preachers and songsters have paired off, and sometimes the songsters have shaped the message as much as the preachers: John Calvin and Louis Bourgeois, John and Charles Wesley, Dwight Moody and Ira Sankey, Billy Graham and George Beverly Shea, Louie Giglio and Chris Tomlin. The evangelical uprising that began right after World War II, gained new life in the Jesus Movement of the 1960s, and persists into the beginning of the third millennium is characterized as much by its “praise and worship” as by anything else. When groups think about starting new churches, they are as anxious to establish their “sound” as they are their message. 

Image: Pixabay 

Hopeful Abandon 

God is in the process of reclaiming our lost planet, so singing fits the way things are. As a result, Christians have been irrepressible singers from day one. What J. R. R. Tolkien said is true: every fairy tale echoes the biblical drama—we were lost, and then we were found. Praise and thanks come unbidden to the surface of our being—and in the unbiddenness of our singing lies its rightness. 

A song will illustrate. One of my coworkers teases me: “I always know it’s you coming down the hall, because I hear the music first.” I am an incorrigible singer, hummer, and whistler. The one song that forces itself into my consciousness more than any other is this: 

My life goes on in endless song, above earth’s lamentations. 
I hear the real, though far-off hymn, that hails a new creation. 
Above the tumult and the strife, I hear its music ringing. 
It sounds an echo in my soul. How can I keep from singing? 

When tyrants tremble, sick with fear, and hear their death-knell ringing, 
When friends rejoice both far and near, how can I keep from singing? 
In prison cell and dungeon vile our thoughts to them are winging. 
When friends by shame are undefiled, how can I keep from singing? 

What though my joys and comforts die, the Lord my Saviour liveth. 
And though the darkness round me close, songs in the night he giveth. 
No storm can shake my inmost calm while to that Rock I’m clinging. 
Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing? 

Anne Warner composed this folk hymn in the middle of a most uncivil Civil War, and Doris Plenn reshaped it during the Cold War and its attendant paranoia. It is a hymn of courage in the face of tempest and darkness and tyrants.  

Trembling Courage 

My absolute favorite version of the song is Eva Cassidy’s kicking “gospel” rendering. She sang it while she was trying to fight off the malignant melanoma that would eventually take her life. Perhaps that’s why she sings with an urgency most who take up this song don’t have. I know that there are different kinds of “prison cells” and “dungeons vile,” and that melanoma—which I too contracted—is one of them. I know therefore that the gift of a song in the night does keep the darkness back, if barely—“Dear God, do not let my children grow up without a father.” And I know that a response of unbidden song rings true because, and only because, Christ is indeed “Lord of heaven and earth.” I hope this was Eva Cassidy’s hope—it is mine, for though my cancer was found at a much earlier stage than hers and appears to have been treated successfully, I know that the “far-off hymn” isn’t as far off as it was pre-cancer. I know in a way I didn’t before that Christ’s victory over the grave promises “new creation.” More importantly, I know that in the worst of my fears I can’t keep from singing; Christ has plundered death and hell. 

This hymn is a parable of the entire history of song in the church. It explains why we are such a singing lot. From the very beginning, God has been orchestrating a grand drama, the reclamation of his lost creation—and in operatic fashion, he has used the singing to his Jesus Movements to carry the story line.  

Be blessed this day,  

Reggie Kidd+ 

* Today’s post is adapted from Reggie M. Kidd, With One Voice: Discovering Christ’s Song in Our Worship (Grand Rapids, MI: BakerBooks, 2005), pp. 17–20.  

The Bible's Six-Word Story - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Tuesday • 1/7/2025 •

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.   

“Psalms Keep Us in God’s Story” 

There’s a story that Ernest Hemingway won a bet that he could write a six-word novel:  

“Baby shoes. For sale. Never used.”  

It’s hard to imagine so much punch being packed into so few words. But there it is. The story recently prompted a “flash fiction” movement, along with books like Larry Smith & Rachel Fershleiser’s Not Quite What I was Planning and a website (smithmag.net) offering collections of life stories in six words:   

“Birth, childhood, adolescence, adolescence, adolescence, adolescence…” 

“Bad brakes discovered at high speed.” 

“Stole wife. Lost friends. Now happy.” 

“Barrister, barista, what’s the diff, Mom?” 

“I still make coffee for two.” 

Many six-word stories make me pensive. Somehow, they remind me that the most common funeral inscription of the Roman world in which Christianity emerged was just such a six-word memoir: “Non fui. Non sum. Non curo.” (“I wasn’t. I’m not. … Don’t care.”) They also remind me that what got imprinted in me growing up was a similarly despairing six-word formula: “Expect bad. You won’t be disappointed.” 

Psalm 136’s Six-Word Story 

In the ESV, RSV, and NRSV, the second half of every verse of Psalm 136 is the six-word chorus: “For his steadfast love endures forever.” Over the course of 26 verses, we extol the glory of Yahweh as creator of the universe, then rescuer of his people. Twenty-six times we interrupt the flow of the psalm’s story with praise of Yahweh’s “steadfast love.”  

The universe, the psalm explains, didn’t have to be there. Everything that exists does so, not as the result of sheer randomness, nor for any other explanation than the steadfast love of the Lord. The only reason our world—and we in it!—are here is God’s steadfast love. 

Image: Pixabay 

The psalm skips over the fall, the flood, and the call of Abraham, and goes directly to a celebration of the rescue of Israel and the violent takeover of “lands for an inheritance.” The rescue and the takeover happen, we are invited to sing, because of God’s steadfast love.  

Through the obscure nation of Israel, seemingly doomed to expire in Egyptian captivity, God intends to right all that has gone wrong under the heavens he made “by wisdom.” The Bible’s whole storyline—from creation through re-creation—is a long study in steadfast love. So, even while we puzzle over the mysteries of creation, the enigmas of the texts that tell Israel’s tale (such as including the deaths of Egypt’s firstborn and of “great” and “mighty kings”), we take the long view. In God’s story, Psalm 136 reminds us, everything will be made right. 

Psalm 103’s Six-Word Story  

The first two verses of this psalm have an unusual audience: me. The psalm tells me to tell my soul to bless the Lord—which, of late, Matt Redman and the whole Church are echoing—and not to forget his benefits. It seems to know that such may not be my default mode of being. Several of my preacher friends talk about “preaching the gospel to myself.” I’d rather sing it—and this psalm shows me how.  

Verses three through five recount to my soul God’s six-word story for my life: “Forgiven. Healed. Redeemed. Crowned. Satisfied. Renewed.”   

Sometimes I chant those verses in plainsong (in his Plainsong Psalter, James Litton renders the psalm in Tone VIII.2). Sometimes I hum Paul Baloche’s “Praise the Lord, O My Soul.” Regardless, it’s as though the psalmist understood my “Expect bad…” mantra. It’s as though he had his own despairing six-word story: “Sinful. Sick. Doomed. Ashamed. Dissatisfied. Decaying.” And it’s as though he perceived that writing a psalm to the Lord was the only way to reverse it: “Bless the Lord, O my soul.” 

I’m glad Paul said to sing “psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs” (Eph 5:19; Col 3:16); they’re the way we keep telling the true story about our lives. Each kind of singing can have a particular effect. “Spiritual songs” remind us of the freshness of the Lord’s moving ... in our lives right now, in our particular church right here. “Hymns” unite us in the whole church’s celebration of the fact that Jesus Christ is the center of history. “Psalms” keep our own stories centered in God’s story. Thank you, Lord, for your six-word exhortation: “With psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs.” 

Be blessed this day,  

Reggie Kidd+ 

We Are Drawn to Christ - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Monday • 1/6/2025 •

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 46; Psalm 97; Isaiah 52:7–10; Revelation 21:22–27; Matthew 12:14–21 

This morning’s Canticles are: 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) 

Welcome to Daily Office Devotions, where every Monday through Friday we bring to our lives that day’s Scripture readings, as given in the Book of Common Prayer. I’m Reggie Kidd, and I’m grateful to be with you this Feast of the Epiphany of Christ.   

Feast of Epiphany. January 6 is, by tradition, the day we remember the three magi from the East who bring to the Christ Child gifts of frankincense (in recognition of his deity), gold (in acknowledgement of his royalty), and myrrh (in anticipation of his sacrificial death): 

Born a king on Bethlehem’s plain; 
Gold I bring to crown Him again 
King forever, ceasing never 
Over us all to reign. 

Frankincense to offer have I;  
Incense owns a Deity nigh;  
Prayer and praising, voices raising,  
Worshiping God on high. 

Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume 
Breaths a life of gathering gloom; 
Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding dying 
Sealed in the stone-cold tomb. 

The remarkable thing about the trek of the magi (probably Persian astrologer-priests) is that, according to Matthew 2, they are led to Jesus not by Holy Scripture but by some celestial sign, whether a visible alignment of objects in the heavens, the reading of an astrological chart, or something altogether unique and unknown to us. The point is that the magi represent “the nations” being drawn by their own devices to Israel’s—and therefore the world’s— King of kings and Lord of lords. Praise be! 

Today’s readings in the Daily Office contemplate the wonder of Israel’s God drawing all peoples and all nations to himself as he manifests—the Greek word epiphania means “manifestation”—his glory.  

In Isaiah 52, God redeems Jerusalem in the sight of all the nations. All the nations “see the salvation of our God.” In Revelation 21, the kings of the earth “bring their glory into” the City of God.  

Most remarkably and wonderfully, Matthew 12 portrays Jesus as altogether reticent during his earthly ministry to publish his fame. He is here to heal the sick and bind up the broken—to draw his people and the nations through his quiet love, not bombastic displays of ego. He has come for all the “bruised reeds” and “smoldering wicks.” There will be no small irony in the way he brings “justice to victory.” 

His leadership is one of service, not ego-inflation. His words are encouraging, not rancorous. When one of his followers uses a sword in his defense he says: “Enough!!” (meaning, “Stand down!”). Even as he hangs on the cross he cries out, “Father, forgive them!” There in the sacrifice of the cross he manifests his true deity and royalty. He trusts his Heavenly Father to transform his crown of thorns into a crown of gold. As Matthew says, may you and I hope in his name … and in no other.  

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+  

The Burning Bush - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Friday • 1/3/2025 •

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 85; Psalm 87; Exodus 3:1–12; Hebrews 11:23–31; John 14:6–14 

This morning’s Canticles are: 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) 

Welcome to Daily Office Devotions, where every Monday through Friday we ask how God might direct our lives from that day’s Scripture readings, as given in the Book of Common Prayer. I’m Reggie Kidd.

The Feast of St. John , which took place on December 27, provided the opportunity to consider the soaring perspective of John’s written portrait of Christ. John details how the Bible’s great “I AM” takes onto himself a human body, and comes among us with sandaled feet. For the days that immediately follow January 1’s Feast of the Holy Name, the Daily Office lingers over some of Jesus’s “I AM” statements in John’s Gospel. 

John. Today’s reading reminds us that Jesus says, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). As the Way, Jesus doesn’t simply point us in a certain direction. He guides us along the way. As the Truth, Jesus doesn’t just hand us a book of truths. He becomes our teacher. As the Life, Jesus doesn’t merely accessorize our life. He becomes our life. I am so grateful for that grand reality.  

Exodus and Moses. Our understanding of Christ is always enhanced when we see him against the backdrop of the Old Testament.  

Exodus. Moses first encounters the great “I AM”—Yahweh himself—in the burning bush on Mount Sinai. His feet are on holy ground, and so he must remove his sandals. Yahweh promises deliverance for the people whose sufferings at the hands of their oppressors have moved him. What is striking to me is that the “sign” he gives by which his people will know that they are finally free is that they will be able to return to this wilderness-mountain to worship him: “I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain” (Exodus 3:12). 

The whole point, then, of gaining freedom is not to win accountability-free, consequence-free self-expression, but to enter into a relationship consisting of worship, service, and obedience to the great “I AM” himself. “Freedom” is not making up our own rules. Freedom is being won over by the amazing love of God, and loving him in return … and our neighbors as ourselves.  

Oh, Dear Jesus, give us grace in this coming year to taste the freedom of finding our way to the Father through you—the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  

Hebrews. And the means—the way—to this freedom is faith. The way to the Father goes through Christ. And the way to Christ goes through faith. In the heart of today’s gorgeous paragraph from Hebrews 11, the writer claims that millennia before Jesus Christ came to this earth, faith in him already motivated Moses: “[Moses] considered abuse suffered for the Christ to be greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, for he was looking ahead to the reward” (Hebrews 11:26).  

All the Old Testament heroes and heroines of the faith—(in today’s reading, Moses’s parents, Moses, the people who “passed through the Red Sea as if it were dry land,” and Rahab the prostitute of Jericho)—all these could only look ahead “by faith” to a Christ whose features they could barely glimpse from afar. It is as though they were looking through the wrong end of a time-telescope.  

Our great privilege is that for us the telescope has been turned around. We “see” the one who has come in the flesh. The challenge to live by faith is still ours. But now we have not only the examples of those who came before, but also the living support of the Christ who has come and who right now “ever lives to intercede” for you and for me (Hebrews 7:25).  

Throughout the coronavirus pandemic that began in early 2020, members of our sister church, All Saints Episcopal Church in Winter Park, Florida, encouraged their neighbors with this sign in their front yards: “You Are Not Alone.” That is so true.  

I pray that “by faith” you know the presence of the great “I AM.” I pray that Jesus is, or will become, the Way, the Truth, and the Life for you, all the way through the challenges and opportunities of the coming year.    

Be blessed this day,  

Reggie Kidd+ 

God Intervenes - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Thursday • 1/2/2025 •

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 117; Psalm 118; Isaiah 59:15–21; Revelation 2:8–17; John 4:46–54 

This morning’s Canticles are: 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) 

Welcome to Daily Office Devotions, where every Monday through Friday we draw insights from that day’s Scripture readings, as given in the Book of Common Prayer. I’m Reggie Kidd, Today I happen to be contemplating passages that are normally read on January 8, two days after Epiphany: Isaiah 59:15–21; Revelation 2:8–17; and John 4:46–54.  

John: an Epiphany of healing words. The “second sign” that Jesus performs in John’s Gospel manifests (we are talking about the season of Epiphany, after all!) the power of his spoken word. The Word became flesh, and the very words of that Word restore life. Jesus does not even have to go to the place where this dying son of a royal official lies. “Go; your son will live,” and it’s done. The boy begins to recover at that very hour. As a result, the father and his whole household believe in Jesus. The words that come from the Word create their own world of hope and life.  

Isaiah: an Epiphany of covenant words. Into his own world in which “truth is lacking,” Isaiah speaks on behalf of the Word who will centuries after him be manifest in the flesh. Where there is no truth, Isaiah says, there is no justice. The doing of right doesn’t exist in a world without truth: “Truth is lacking, and whoever turns from evil is despoiled. The Lord saw it, and it displeased him that there was no justice” (Isaiah 59:15). Where there is no truth there is no standard of right and wrong; only personal whim and tribal interests. Isaiah would be quite familiar with a world like ours, a world in which you choose your news network depending on what you want the news to say!  

Isaiah counters with the power of God’s own words. Into the prophet’s mouth God places words from the Spirit—words that enforce the irrevocable covenant that God has made with his people and anticipate God’s own intervention. Words insisting that God is not aloof and uncaring: “He … was appalled that there was no one to intervene” (Isaiah 59:16a). Words promising that God himself will personally enter the fray against evil and for the good (which he literally did in the incarnation of his Son): “[H]is own arm brought him victory … He put on righteousness like a breastplate, and a helmet of salvation on his head” (Isaiah 59:16b–17). Words demand a hearing: “[M]y words that I have put in your mouth, shall not depart out of your mouth … from now on and forever” (Isaiah 59:21). You and I need not—indeed, dare not—let ourselves be led around by self- and tribe-serving truth-spinners, but by God’s own Word and the Spirit of discernment.  

Revelation: an Epiphany of sustaining words. The Word’s words were spoken ahead of time through Isaiah. They came from his flesh and blood lips when he walked the earth. And in the Book of Revelation, the Word speaks from on high, as the “first and the last, who was dead and came to life” (Revelation 2:8). The words that Jesus speaks as ascended Lord give believers in Smyrna the power to endure intense trials—even unto death at the hands of those who should know better (members of the parent faith whose resistance to Jesus as Messiah has turned devilishly deadly—Revelation 2:9–11). Lord, have mercy!  

And if we listen closely enough despite whatever confusion surrounds us (in Pergamum, pagan-influenced heresy and debauchery were being promoted in the church! Like that would never happen now, right!?), we can hear Jesus whisper the “new name”—the new identity—he gives to each of us personally and intimately: “To everyone who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give a white stone, and on the white stone is written a new name that no one knows except the one who receives it” (Revelation 2:17).  

Be blessed this day,  

Reggie Kidd+ 

The Wedding in Cana - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Wednesday • 1/1/2025 •

Happy New Year

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 103; Psalm 114; Isaiah 52:3–6; Revelation 2:1–7; John 2:1–11 

This morning’s Canticles are: 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) 

Welcome to Daily Office Devotions, where every Monday through Friday we explore that day’s Scripture readings, as given in the Book of Common Prayer. I’m Reggie Kidd. Thanks for joining me. Today, I happen to be contemplating two passages that are normally read on January 7, the day after Epiphany: John 2:1–11 and Revelation 2:1–7.  

The Wedding in Cana. As we were reading through John’s Gospel last August, we came upon this account of the wedding in Cana. Now we read it through the lens of the season of Epiphany. This is the first of seven “signs” that Jesus performs in John’s Gospel—illustrations of his “epiphany” or “manifestation.”  

For your further investigation, here is a list of the seven signs (as traditionally numbered—some scholars offer slightly different reconstructions): 

• Turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana (John 2:1–11—“the first of his signs”)   

• Healing of the official’s son in Capernaum (John 4:46–54—“the second sign”) 

• Healing of the paralytic at Bethesda (John 5:1–15) 

• Feeding of the five thousand (John 6:1–14) 

• Walking on water (John 16–24) 

• Healing of the man born blind (John 9) 

• Raising of Lazarus (John 11) 

Though some of these events are explicitly named “sign,” others are not. Each points up distinct aspects of Christ’s person and work. They are pointers to his glory, manifestations of the “grace and truth” he has brought into the world.  

As to the first of these signs: the turning of water into wine at the wedding banquet in Cana, here is what I find noteworthy and exciting:  

• “My hour has not yet come” — John 2:4. “The hour” for which Jesus has come into this world is the hour of his being lifted up on the cross. That “hour” will, ironically, be his “glory.” In that act he will take away the sin of the world, defeat Satan, and reunite in fellowship with himself a fractured human race (John 12:20–33). At the wedding of Cana, despite the fact that his “hour” has not yet come, Jesus graciously assents to provide this “first sign” of his “glory.” Jesus provides a glimpse into the amazing spectacle of what he has come to do for us.   

• … the steward tasted the water that had become wine … — John 2:9. What happens is that water set aside in jars for purification turns to wine that will fill goblets of celebration. These were huge jars—six of them, each able to hold twenty to thirty gallons. It must have been quite the wedding party! Because the Lamb of God has come to take away the sin of the world (as announced at Jesus’ baptism in the previous chapter of John), our baptism will not only purify, it will lead to the Eucharist of joy. Cinderella doesn’t just get cleaned up, she gets invited to the ball!  

• … there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee … — John 2:1. Jesus’s blessing of this wedding in 1st century Galilee echoes the profound biblical theme of God’s wedding his people to himself. For that very reason, John’s larger story line unites his Gospel to his Book of Revelation. Changing water into wine at the wedding at this point in time, Jesus foreshadows an invitation for us to join him at the Wedding Feast of the Lamb at the end of time: “And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. … The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come’” (Revelation 21:2; 22:17). Our Eucharist is not just a remembrance of what the Lamb of God has done in taking away our sin. Our Eucharist is a foretaste of a heavenly banquet. Alleluia, amen! 

• “But you have kept the good wine until now” — John 2:10. The Lord of History shows himself to be the ultimate host who has saved the best wine (his Son) for last: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16 KJV).  

To the Ephesians. One quick note, in closing, from Christ’s letter to the Ephesian church in Revelation: “But I have  this  against you, that you have  left your first love” (Revelation 2:4 NASB). Though it is valuable, theological accuracy is not a substitute for love. The Ephesians policed themselves well when it came to fighting off heresy, but not so much when it came to guarding their hearts against lovelessness. And so, Jesus urges the church to return to its “first love.”  

That’s one very good reason for us to remind ourselves that “the first sign” Jesus performs is at a wedding banquet, not a lecture hall. This truth suggests a powerful corollary to Thomas Cranmer’s adage, “What the heart wants, the mind justifies, and the will chooses.” The corollary is this: Engage the heart, and the mind (and the will) will follow. May God grant us the grace to love him first, foremost, and always — all else will follow.  

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+ 

Holy Name of Jesus - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Tuesday • 12/31/2024 •

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 103; Psalm 148; Genesis 17:1–12a,15–16; Colossians 2:6–12; John 16:23b–30 

This morning’s Canticles are: 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) 

Welcome to Daily Office Devotions, where every Monday through Friday we bring to our lives that day’s Scripture readings, as given in the Book of Common Prayer. I’m Reggie Kidd, and I’m grateful to be with you here in Christmas Week.   

One more piece of lectionary-juggling. Today, I treat passages prescribed for January 1, the Feast of the Holy Name.  

In the Christian Year, the first day of the calendar year is the Feast of the Holy Name. This feast falls on the eighth day of Christmas, in recognition of the fact that, as Luke records, “After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb” (Luke 2:15).  

It is Matthew who explains why the baby is to be given that particular name: “…for he will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21 — the Hebrew Yeshua means “Yah saves!”). The cutting of his foreskin in this eighth day ceremony symbolizes how it is that Jesus is going to save us from our sins.   

Three decades later, Paul explains how the one “in whom the fullness of deity dwells bodily” experienced a second circumcision. Paul calls Jesus’s being nailed to the cross “the circumcision of Christ” (Colossians 2:11). On the cross, Jesus’s whole being—not just a tiny piece of his flesh—is cut off from the land of the living. His death brings pardon for us, and his resurrection brings, right now, life from spiritual death for us, and, at his return, resurrection from physical death. And this amazing gift is precisely in line with what Isaiah had prophesied: “For he was cut off from the land of the living, stricken for the transgression of my people. … When you make his life an offering for sin, he shall see his offspring, and shall prolong his days …”(Isaiah 53:8,10). 

The wonderful thing is that “the circumcision of Christ”—his being “cut off from the land of the living”—becomes our circumcision when we are plunged beneath the symbolically drowning waters of baptism: “In him also you were circumcised with a spiritual circumcision … when you were buried with him in baptism, you were also raised with him through faith in the power of God, who raised him from the dead” (Colossians 2:11–12).  

In celebrating the Holy Name of Jesus, we also celebrate his naming us anew. Because he has saved us from our sins, we are no longer “Sinner,” but “Saint” (1 Corinthians 1:2)! No longer “Polluted,” but “Washed” (1 Corinthians 6:11)! No longer “Destined-for-the-Scrap-Heap,” but “Treasured” (Deuteronomy 7:6)!  The Vineyard Ministries song writer D. Butler put it magnificently in these lyrics, and rendered here by the Nesbitt family: 

I will change your name. 
You shall no longer be called: 
Wounded, Outcast, Lonely, or Afraid 

I will change your name. 
Your new name shall be: 
Confidence, Joyfulness, Overcoming One,  
Faithfulness, Friend of God, One who seeks my face.  

The whole thought is consistent with the renaming that takes place when God first gives the gift of circumcision in Genesis 17. There are new names and new identities for Abram who becomes Abraham, and for Sarai who becomes Sarah. His name will no longer mean simply “Exalted Father,” but “Father of a Multitude.” Hers will no longer mean (perhaps) “Mockery,” but “Princess.”  

No matter what the past looks like, I pray your future will be shaped by your “new name”—the one you received in your baptism in Christ.  

Collect of The Holy Name. Eternal Father, you gave to your incarnate Son the holy name of Jesus to be the sign of our salvation: Plant in every heart, we pray, the love of him who is the Savior of the world, our Lord Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.  

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+ 

He Makes Things New for All - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Thursday • 12/30/2024 •

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 20; Psalm 21; Isaiah 25:1–9; Revelation 1:9–20; John 7:53–8:11 

This morning’s Canticles are: 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) 

Welcome to Daily Office Devotions, where every Monday through Friday we consider some aspect of that day’s Scripture readings, as given in the Book of Common Prayer. I’m Reggie Kidd, and I’m grateful to be with you here in Christmas Week. 

Allow me to juggle the Daily Lectionary readings slightly. If you are following the Book of Common Prayer, you will notice that today I am meditating on a reading prescribed for December 30. That passage is Isaiah 25:1–9.  

First the bad news, then the good news. Isaiah 25 paints one of the most hope-filled pictures of the future anywhere in Scripture. To appreciate it, though, we have to see the horrid backdrop of the previous chapter. In Isaiah 24, the prophet foresees the earth being ravaged by human-created pollution: “the earth lies polluted under its inhabitants, for … they have violated the everlasting covenant. Therefore a curse devours the earth, and its inhabitants suffer for their guilt; therefore the inhabitants of the earth dwindled, and few people are left” (Isaiah 24:5–6). Does this sound at all like the world we live in?  

Lawlessness rules in the streets: “The city of chaos is broken down, every house is shut up so that no one can enter. There is an outcry in the streets for lack of wine; all joy has reached its eventide; the gladness of the earth is banished. Desolation is left in the city” (Isaiah 24:10–11). Does this sound at all like the year we are just closing out?  

Heavenly powers as well as earthly rulers have conspired against Yahweh (Isaiah 24:21–23). Yahweh’s response has been to “open the windows of heaven” (as he did in Noah’s day) and unleash a storm of judgment. He overthrows earthly rulers, displaces heavenly powers, and establishes his own rule: “for the Lord of hosts will reign on Mount Zion and in Jerusalem, and before his elders he will manifest his glory” (Isaiah 24:21–23). 

Isaiah 25 is the manifestation of that glory. When the storm of judgment has passed, Yahweh will be shown to “have been a refuge to the poor, a refuge to the needy in their distress” (Isaiah 25:4). Because of the coming of Yahweh, “the song of the ruthless was stilled” (Isaiah 25:5).  

On the far side of that storm of judgment want gives way to plenty, and death gives way to life.  

Want gives way to plenty. Just as, during the exodus, Yahweh gathered the elders of Israel on Mt. Sinai to feast in his presence (Exodus 24), on one great day in the future, “On this mountain (Mt. Zion) the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear” (Isaiah 25:6). The Hebrew of this verse is quite difficult to render into English, but it has a beautiful assonance: 

mishteh shemanim,  
mishteh shemarim,  
shemanim memuchayim,  
shemarim mezuqqaqim  

Trying to preserve at least the feel of the text’s assonance and poetic parallelism, I render the text this way:  

a feast of filet,  
a feast of cabernet,  
filet mignon,  
cabernet sauvignon  

Whatever the precise meaning of the terms, the sentence would have been mouth-watering to Isaiah’s listeners. What lies ahead of us is a feast beyond compare! 

Death gives way to life.  

… he will destroy … the shroud that is cast over all peoples, the sheet that is spread over all nations; he will swallow up death forever — Isaiah 25:7–8a. Gone is the sense of inevitability and finality that hangs like a death pall over our lives. In Canaanite religion, there was always a fear that Mot, the god of death, would prove stronger than Baal, the Canaanite’s fertility-deity, and that ultimately death (Mot) would swallow up life (Baal). Isaiah says, to the contrary, Israel’s Lord, Yahweh, will swallow up death. The pall of death that seems to condition all of life—the sense of tentativeness and fear of death we all live with—will one day surrender to life that has been secured by the resurrection of Jesus Christ.  

That is why every funeral service for believers in Christ is a celebration of resurrection-life. That is why our funeral palls are resurrection-white. Our shrouds are temporary, our burial sheets are just helping us to mark time. We are merely renting our coffins and burial places or our columbarium niches. One day, we won’t need them any longer.  

… Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces… — Isaiah 25:8b. Gone are the grief and the sadness. Isaiah anticipates the apostles Paul and John. We do grieve, “but not like the rest,” says Paul (1 Thessalonians 4:13). As John brings the Bible’s story to a close in the Book of Revelation, he incorporates words from Isaiah: “he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away” (Revelation 21:4).  

… and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth — Isaiah 25:8c. Gone are the shame, the guilt, the remorse, the sense of “being found out.” In the movie On the Waterfront, Marlon Brando’s character Terry Malloy sees the potential for a promising boxing career end when he lets himself be intimidated into throwing a fight. In what has become a classic cinematic moment, he looks back in despair: “You don’t understand! I could’a had class. I could’a been a contender. I could’ve been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let’s face it.” There’s at least a little bit of Terry Malloy in all of us. Always a question mark: did I cut too many corners? did I make the grade? did I do enough? Am I good enough, pretty enough, “cool” enough? In the movie, thanks to the intervention of a faithful priest and the power of “true love,” Terry Malloy experiences a sort of redemption. In real life, redemption comes from a greater faithful High Priest and from the source of Love itself.  

Isaiah’s promise is that our every bad decision is overruled, and is, in fact, woven into a tapestry of all things being made right. “Behold, I make all things new!” (Revelation 21:5).  

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+ 

The Eagle - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Friday • 12/27/2024 •

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 92; Exodus 33:18–23; 1 John 1:1–9; John 21:19b–24 

This morning’s Canticles are: 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) 

Welcome to Daily Office Devotions, where every Monday through Friday we draw insights from that day’s Scripture readings, as given in the Book of Common Prayer. I’m Reggie Kidd, and I’m grateful to be with you this December 27, the Third Day of Christmas.   

Feast of St. John. In the tradition of the Christian Year, December 27 is a day to celebrate the life and ministry of St. John, Son of Zebedee, Beloved Disciple, and author of the Fourth Gospel, 1,2,3 John, and Revelation.  

John’s is the gospel in which Jesus unveils his divine nature—most especially, it appears, to John the Beloved Disciple. The early church’s choice of the soaring, majestic “eagle” to represent the Gospel according to John seems altogether appropriate. In this gospel, despite the all too familiar struggle of the disciples to understand, Jesus’s glory and majesty are unwrapped in high-altitude language. John begins: “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” From the outset, we are put on notice that we are in a rarified atmosphere.  

One of the profound ironies of this gospel is that while it is unparalleled in its portrayal of the unambiguous divinity of Jesus, it has some of the most poignant cameos of his humanity. It also provides vital hints as to the course of his earthly ministry. Jesus has “compassion” all over the place in the synoptics, but this is the only gospel in which one of his associates is called “the disciple whom Jesus loved” (John 13:23; 19:26; 20:2; 21:7,20). Here are reflections of one whose words leap off the page: “What we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life—this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us!” (1 John 1:1b–2). And while Peter’s call is to bear the keys of the kingdom and to go the way of martyrdom, John’s call is to live long and to meditate deeply on the life and words of the One who loves him especially—and to make Him especially real to us.   

Because John’s Jesus is so preeminently divine, he is for that same reason so sublimely human. It is only in John’s gospel that he stands before a friend’s tomb and angrily weeps at the tragedy and awfulness of death (John 11). He attends a wedding (John 2). He accepts an interview with a member of the Sanhedrin (John 3). Instead of, as in Luke, talking about a Good Samaritan, here he actually befriends a Samaritan woman rejected even by her own folk (John 4). 

Maybe there’s a message in this point alone: the tendency of the church to pit Jesus’s humanity and divinity against one another is altogether wrong. In reality, the closer you get to his divinity, the more striking are his human features. He has forever wedded his eternal divine nature to our finitude and promises us a share in his glory. It was John’s Gospel in particular that inspired early church theologians to assert, “He became what we are that we might become what he is!”  

Christmas Day’s gospel reading from John includes this staggering claim: “And the Word became flesh and (literally) pitched a tent among us” (John 1:14). The eternally existent “I AM” who sent Moses to Pharaoh has now done more than make an appearance in a burning bush before which sandals must be removed—he has now walked the earth himself and sanctified it with his sandaled feet. In the past, the Bible’s great “I AM” (Yahweh) pictured his presence with the tent of the tabernacle that followed a pillar of cloud and fire. Now he has become the tent—and his life lights up the world. In the past, Yahweh displayed his “I AM-ness” in ten judging plagues. Now he has unpacked his “I AM-ness” with seven predicates of blessing: 

The Bread of Life and the True Vine (John 6 & 15). Having once provided manna from heaven, he now becomes bread from heaven. He provides the nourishment a man as crippled by his sloth as by his useless legs needs in order to stand and flourish (John 5). Not only is he food, he is drink as well: “if anyone is thirsty, let them come to me” (John 7:37). But he offers not just water. As True Vine, he offers a wine of celebration and joy. Somehow Jesus knows that the truly thirsty person at the well in Samaria is the woman who needs words of life and welcome and truthfulness from him. For every one of us who is joyless and famished and dying of thirst, here is food and drink.  

The Light of the World (John 8–9). For the darkness of the man born blind, there is light; for the pretended sight of the blind teachers, darkness (John 9). For the shame of the woman caught in adultery, there is the bright new day of being forgiven and being given a new start (this is why, I think, this independent story found its way to its home at the beginning of John 8). For the pseudo-righteous who would cast stones, there is the glaring light that exposes their own stonable offenses. For every one of us stumbling in the dark, especially the darkness of self-destructive behavior and guilt and shame, here is the light of pardon and a new direction.  

The Door of the Sheep (John 10). The door of the sheepfold both protects the sheep from predators and provides them their only access to their pasture. From a world that would savage us, there is, finally, protection. To places where our souls can feed, an opening—no, the opening. For lepers who have to live outside the gates, for demon-possessed and smelly beggars whom nobody wants to be around, here is a door into a fellowship where we are really wanted.  

The Good Shepherd (John 10). On the one hand, the old covenant promised that a Shepherd King in David’s line would rule. On the other, God himself—so said Ezekiel—would need to come: “I will feed my flock and I will lead them to rest,” declares the Lord God. “I will seek the lost, bring back the scattered, bind up the broken and strengthen the sick; but the fat and the strong I will destroy. I will feed them with judgment” (34:15-16). For a Nicodemus, the great teacher of Israel, who needs a new birth so he can understand the point of the story, here is the point of the story: in one and the same Person, the King has come and God has come. For every person to whom the Bible is a closed book—even for every lost soul in seminary or Bible college or Sunday school, here’s the point: the King has come and God has come, for you!  

The Resurrection and the Life (John 11). So captivated is John by the glory of the resurrection that it governs his perspective on the death of Jesus. The Good Shepherd will sovereignly lay down his life for his sheep (John 10). Jesus is a friend laying down his life for his friends (John 15). At his arrest—can you even call it that? —, his thrice-repeated “I AM” (John 18:5,6,8) throws his would-be captors to the ground. On the cross, instead of Psalm 22:1’s plaintive “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (as in all three synoptics), John records something like Psalm 22:31’s triumphant “He has performed it.” At John 19:30, Jesus says “tetelesthai = it is finished.” And as if to offer an inclusio on the sayings about the shepherd giving his life for his sheep, about no one taking his life, and about the friend giving his life for his friends, John says Jesus “gives up” his spirit. The “lifting up” of Jesus on the cross is simultaneously his “lifting up” to resurrection, to ascension, to glory. For every person who knows their so-called “life” is but a walking death, Jesus is resurrection, and he is new and everlasting life.  

The Way, the Truth, and the Life (John 14). He is the Way: not a set of principles about how to discern the correct path among the many choices in a given situation, but a person who leads. Not a map, but a personal guide. Jesus is the Truth: not abstractions about how to get to truth among the various claims for normativity, but a person who teaches. Not a rulebook, but a coach. Jesus is the Life: not a leap into an existential mystical goo or a brave assertion of personal worth, but a presence that makes alive. Not a dead end to “personal authenticity,” but a friend who takes up life in and with you.  

We remember this day “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” I pray you know your measure of that same love, and are able to answer it: “A new commandment I give you: love one another as I have loved you” (John 13:34).  

Collect of Saint John. Shed upon your Church, O Lord, the brightness of your light, that we, being illumined by the teaching of your apostle and evangelist John, may so walk in the light of your truth, that at length we may attain to the fullness of eternal life; 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+ 

Stephen the First Martyr - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Thursday • 12/26/2024 •

Feast of St. Stephen • Year One •

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 28; Psalm 30; 2 Chronicles 24:17–22; Acts 6–7 

This morning’s Canticles are: 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) 

Welcome to Daily Office Devotions, where every Monday through Friday we explore that day’s Scripture readings, as given in the Book of Common Prayer. I’m Reggie Kidd. Thanks for joining me.

While everybody else is taking down the Christmas decorations and sending Santa on his merry way back to the North Pole, Christians who follow the Christian year are just beginning the party. We celebrate twelve days of Christmas. Through Advent, it’s been all about anticipation. Now for a season of celebration.  

Characteristic of Christian joy, however, is a tinge of pain. Jesus’s incarnation brought the Second Person of the Trinity all the way into the mess he had come to redeem: murder in the name of God, lovelessness among the “godly,” callous disregard for life’s “little ones.” The Christmas year acknowledges this reality with what I think of as “A Christmas Triptych.” We remember Stephen and his martyrdom on December 26, the apostle John and the commandment of love on December 27, and the “Holy Innocents” and the need to protect the vulnerable on December 28.

Collect of Saint Stephen: We give you thanks, O Lord of glory, for the example of the first martyr Stephen, who looked up to heaven and prayed for his persecutors to your Son Jesus Christ, who stands at your right hand; where he lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen. 

Few of us are asked to take up our cross as severely as Stephen. However, in many parts of the world, losing your life for your faith is not uncommon. As a professor, I was humbled by the risks some of my students took in coming to the US for training in ministry. At least one student won a martyr’s wreath upon his return to his homeland.  

But there are other kinds of deaths besides crucifixion or stoning. They vary from lost job opportunities, to rejection by spouses or family members, to subtle and not so subtle snubs by former associates or friends. We can use these experiences to be reminded by St. Stephen that “the fellowship of the sufferings” of Christ is part of the privilege that comes with the Incarnation.  

The Christian story is one of forgiveness, forgiveness, always forgiveness. Stephen’s “Lord, do not hold this sin against them” (Acts 7:50b) is both a lovely echo of Jesus’s own forgiving prayer from the Cross, and also a powerful call to Christ-followers to resist the haters by not hating them back. It is a call to translate loss, rejection, and snubs into thankful praise for the new friendships and for the newly opened doors that always seem to follow the doors that get slammed in your face.  

Most importantly, Stephen teaches us that above it all, always, is Jesus: “But filled with the Holy Spirit, he gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!’” (Acts 7:55–56). By his death Jesus destroyed death, and by his life he destroys our fear of death—every kind of death, the big ones and the little ones. As Lord of all, he is lord even when (as was the case with Stephen) deluded people are running the show and have you in their power. You never know when (as was the case with Stephen—see Acts 8:1) there’s a Saul/Paul in the wings observing, if uncomprehendingly in that moment, your equilibrium, your faith, and your undeniable love.   

I pray that as the Collect invites us to pray, we may know the absolute supremacy of Christ over every hand of opposition that comes against us or voice of criticism that we hear. I pray that the power of forgiveness and grace has the upper hand in our lives, and that it overflows to those around us.  

Be blessed this day,  

Reggie Kidd+ 

The Annunciation - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Wednesday • 12/25/2024 •

Christmas Day

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 72; Isaiah 28:9–29; Revelation 21:9–21; Luke 1:26–38 

This morning’s Canticles are: 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) 

Welcome to Daily Office Devotions, where every Monday through Friday we ask how God might direct our lives from that day’s Scripture readings, as given in the Book of Common Prayer. I’m Reggie Kidd, and I’m grateful to be with you this Wednesday of the fourth week of Advent, as we begin a new year (Year 1) of the Daily Office Lectionary. 

Luke. In today’s gospel reading I think it is worth paying attention to the way Gabriel speaks to Mary of the joy she is to help to bring into the world, of the utter grace that is being bestowed upon her and upon all who learned to receive that same grace, and of the fact that the Lord’s presence in and through her means she will never be alone: “Greetings (literally, “Rejoice”), favored one (literally, “she who has received grace”)! The Lord is with you” (Luke 1:28). This passage resonates richly with the other Scriptures in today’s readings. 

Psalm 72. This psalm “of Solomon” (verse 1 in the Hebrew) celebrates the reign of David’s son. King Solomon was the last to govern a united kingdom, and this psalm sees his rule as being characterized by long duration, by care for the needy, by international fame for Israel, and by productivity of the land.  

Christians have always read in Psalm 72 an anticipation of the reign of Christ, who described himself as “greater than Solomon” (Matthew 12:42). His resurrection (not to mention his pre-existence) means that he will be “established” even longer than “the sun endures” (compare with Revelation 21:23–24 — “And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God is its light, and its lamp is the Lamb. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it”).  

As the heir of David that Gabriel promises to Mary, Jesus unites not only Samaria and Judah, but Jew and Gentile (John 4:22–24; Acts 1:8; 8:4–8; Romans 15:7–13; Ephesians 2:11-22). He preaches good news to the poor (Luke 4:18). He receives “all authority under heaven and on earth,” sending his disciples to the ends of the earth to make disciples, that is, to claim citizens for his kingship (Matthew 28:18–20). And at his return, believers expect him to usher in a completely new creation, where the tree of life brings healing to the nations (Revelation 22:1–22).   

Psalm 72 was, accordingly, one of the most obvious psalms for Isaac Watts (1719) to recast in Christ-centered terms: 

1 Jesus shall reign where’er the sun 
does its successive journeys run, 
his kingdom stretch from shore to shore, 
till moons shall wax and wane no more. 

2 To him shall endless prayer be made, 
and praises throng to crown his head. 
His name like sweet perfume shall rise 
with every morning sacrifice. 

3 People and realms of every tongue 
dwell on his love with sweetest song, 
and infant voices shall proclaim 
their early blessings on his name. 

4 Blessings abound where’er he reigns: 
the prisoners leap to lose their chains, 
the weary find eternal rest, 
and all who suffer want are blest. 

5 Let every creature rise and bring 
the highest honors to our King, 
angels descend with songs again, 
and earth repeat the loud “Amen!”  

With Mary’s “Let it be done unto me,” she assents to bringing into the world and to nurturing this very reality. Praise be!  

Isaiah. Because of Israel’s idolatries—her “covenant with death”—Isaiah promises a storm of judgment: “hail will sweep away the refuge of lies, and waters will overwhelm the shelter” (Isaiah 28:17). That indeed, was the effect of the Assyrian and the Babylonian armies as they unleashed their fury against God’s people. Nonetheless, Yahweh promises that he is using the process to lay “in Zion a foundation stone, a tested stone, a precious cornerstone, a sure foundation” (Isaiah 28:16). In the midst of storm, faithful Israelites who put their trust in Yahweh will find one piece of solid ground upon which to stand.  

Mary is one such faithful Israelite, saying “Yes!” to the Lord’s overture to her. And so Edward Mote’s (1834) hymn is as true for her as it is for you and me:  

In ev’ry rough and stormy gale, 
my anchor holds within the vale. 
When all around my soul gives way, 
he then is all my hope and stay.  

On Christ the solid rock I stand,  
all other ground is sinking sand… 

Revelation. Today’s passage presents the next to last mention in the Bible of God’s bride: redeemed humanity. The church. Here is the culmination of a massively glorious theme we have seen developing for months in our Daily Office readings. Prior to the Book of Revelation, the theme has been especially prominent in the prophet Hosea and in the Song of Songs. Then, from Revelation 12 forward, Scripture accelerates this theme toward its destination: the magnificent marriage of the Lamb. In Revelation 12, the church, in the figure of a woman, is rescued and whisked into the wilderness for protection. In Revelation 19, the church is made ready as a bride for her wedding. Now, finally, she is shown in her full glory: “Come, I will show you the bride, the wife of the Lamb” (Revelation 21:9). And the vision consists of the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of God perfected: “And in the [S]pirit he carried me away to a great, high mountain and showed me the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God” (Revelation 21:10).  

At this point, we just have to stand back and ponder, maybe even wordlessly, the magnificence of the imagery John is given. Back in Revelation 19, we are told that the bride who has made herself ready, “‘to her it has been granted to be clothed with fine linen, bright and pure’—for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints” (Revelation 19:7–8). There the “righteous deeds” by which she has prepared herself are “fine linen.” Here, those “righteous deeds” take on the features of a beautiful symmetry of construction—the balancing of twelve tribes of Israel and twelve apostles of Christ (Revelation 21:12,14). And instead of linen, we behold valuable stones and precious metals. What seem to humble believers to be the feeblest attempts to honor Christ in this life bear promise of being eternally majestic ornaments. That’s about all I know to say. Except to repeat Revelation 19’s fourfold, “Hallelujah! … Hallelujah!! … Hallelujah!!! … Hallelujah!!!!  

Oh, Mary, did you have any idea what you were saying “Yes!” to? 

Be blessed this day,  

Reggie Kidd+