Note: This will be the last of our three-times-a-week reflections on the Daily Texts. We began these as a way to help us stay connected while stay-at-home orders were in effect. Now, as the vaccination effort advances and we’re able to see the light of increased in-person connection at the end of this long tunnel—thanks be to God!—we’ll be ending these reflections. We, of course, encourage you to continue to make time for reflection on Scripture every day!

“Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.” —Luke 2:29-32

There was a man living in Jerusalem named Simeon, a devoted follower of God. He was led by the Holy Spirit to the temple courts, where he saw Mary and Joseph and the child Jesus. God had revealed to Simeon that he would live to see the promised Messiah, and, when he saw Jesus, he knew this had indeed happened. That’s the context for his words in today’s verses.

What’s amazing about this reaction is that Simeon hadn’t seen Jesus do anything at all. Jesus was just a little baby. But the presence of Jesus was enough for Simeon to rejoice at the good work of God.

Simeon’s words were, of course, correct. In faith, Simeon could see who Jesus was and what Jesus would be for the world. Jesus was salvation from God, revelation to the Gentiles, and the light of glory for God’s beloved people Israel. The fact that Simeon was already proclaiming these truths is a reminder to us that the kingdom of God is not abstract or impersonal. The kingdom of God is just that: God’s kingdom, centered on the person of the Messiah, the King, Jesus of Nazareth.

May we always remember to look with joy and wonder at Jesus, and may we always see in him the salvation of God for this beloved world.

Bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. Luke 6:28

Today’s verse is located in Luke’s account of the sermon on the mount. In it, Jesus calls his followers to forgive their enemies. Even though Jesus’ command makes total sense to me, I still find myself tempted to withhold forgiveness for certain people who have hurt me. I find myself wanting to read Jesus’ words as a suggestion that is to be implemented on a case by case basis. The problem is, we just celebrated Easter and to celebrate Easter we must remember that only three days earlier Jesus actually lived this command out when he forgave those who put him on the cross and into the grave.

Jesus went to the cross for you and me. Jesus went to the cross knowing how difficult it is to break out of the the cycles of sin that we find ourselves trapped in (not to mention the sins that we willingly walk toward committing). Jesus extended forgiveness all while knowing that we would live in a way that curses at the idea that God wants good things for us and that we abuse the gift of grace that has been extended because of Christ’s sacrifice.

Jesus modeled for us that it is possible to live this out this principle of forgiveness. Let’s work to embody this command today.

Today’s reflection is written by Deacon Karen Katamay.

“Christ is our peace.” —Ephesians 2:14

“Christ is our peace.” This short passage is a wonderful encapsulation of what Jesus gifted to us through his life, death, and resurrection. I invite you to also read the rest of the second chapter of Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, because the whole chapter summarizes the message of how God unites us and reconciles all of us through the cross. And the cross is the theme for this Good Friday—the cross where Jesus hung, condemned for the sins of the world, and died, so that we might live, before rising again, defeating death itself. How can we ever fully appreciate his sacrifice for us? How can we ever fully understand his willingness to suffer and die for us? He, who was without sin, dying for us sinners?

I would also like to share with you verses 4-7 of the second chapter of Ephesians: “But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.” 

It may be hard today to associate the violent suffering and death of Jesus with a message of peace, but it is precisely because of what Jesus did for us that we can have peace, knowing our sin does not condemn us and that God forgives us and loves us.  Our Redeemer lives, and what comfort and peace that sweet message is! Amen.

His servants will worship him; they will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads.

—Revelation 22:3-4

In Exodus 3, when Moses hears God calling to him from a burning bush, Moses instinctively hides his face, afraid to look directly at God. Many chapters later, after Moses encounters God on Mount Sinai, he descends from the mountain “radiant”—to a degree, in fact, that the people of Israel are afraid to come near him. And at the opposite end of your Bible, in the book of Acts, when Saul encounters the risen Jesus on the road to Damascus, he receives temporary blindness and a permanent new purpose and name. As we read in today’s text from Revelation, the author John proclaims, “[God’s] servants will worship him; they will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads.”

I wonder what would have happened to Moses had he not averted his eyes; what would he have seen? I wonder what exactly it was about Moses’ incandescence, as he returned from the mountaintop, that caused the Israelites to keep a safe distance. What did the light that Paul saw look like, and what precisely did John see on the foreheads of those who served God?

There’s a mystery and a sort of “you had to be there” element in all of these accounts. But one theme is prominent: there’s something about encountering God that leaves us both utterly awestruck and indelibly changed.

I have not heard God’s audible voice and I have never yet had anyone tell me I have that just-saw-Jesus glow about me. Perhaps you have had dramatic and pivotal moments of encountering God; or perhaps, like me, you’ve acquired a lifetime of experiences, each of which revealed more and more of God’s awe-inspiring face. Either way, those encounters have shaped who we are and continue to transform us.

What’s interesting to me is that in each of these biblical accounts about seeing God’s face or God’s glory, the change is outwardly discernible. Those who encounter God don’t just feel different; they look different. (And, in Moses’ case, it was the reaction of others that alerted him to his own transformation.)

This common thread causes me to question my own “appearance”: do the people I meet see God’s brilliance reflected in me? How might I open myself up to let other people observe God’s transformative power in my life? How might I glow with God’s astonishing glory, goodness, and love in ways that are unmistakable to everyone I meet? How might God’s glory radiate from me not just in what I say, but in who I am and how I live?

Wonderful God, may I approach you with awe and humility fitting to who you are. Continue to reveal your face to me so that I might more boldly reflect you in the world.

Amen.

God blessed them, and said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it.” —Genesis 1:28

I recently watched a comedy news program that discussed plastic waste and how surprisingly little of it can actually be recycled. A couple of not-so-comedic points stuck with me. First, I learned that in the Pacific Ocean, there’s a garbage patch full of plastics that is larger than the combined area of France, Germany, and Spain; and it’s still growing. I also learned that by 2050, the ocean is expected to hold more plastics than fish.

Humanity has done an abysmal job at carrying out God’s instructions to hold authority over creation. 

Hearing facts and projections like the ones above leaves me feeling angry (how could the people in charge allow this to get so out of hand?), guilty (I use and dispose of plastics every day!), and overwhelmed (when the problem is this huge and this rampant, what hope do we have to turn anything around?).

While we are always called to lives of introspection, confession, and repentance, Lent is a season when we are especially mindful of these behaviors. At this time of year, we reflect differently on our desperation for a savior. While I tend to reflect and seek forgiveness individually, when I consider the abuse we have done to God’s perfect creation, I am reminded to ask for mercy and forgiveness for humanity collectively. I am keenly aware of our need for redemption when I see where sin is so tightly woven into our daily lives that we can’t imagine how possibly to free ourselves from it. Together, we commit large-scale sins that have global and irreversible consequences. When we confess, we can confess both our own sins and the sins of humanity.

Feeling overwhelmed at the scale of a problem like plastic waste can cause me to throw my hands in the air and give up any sense of personal responsibility. After all, the problem is so large that we need powerful leaders and industries to fix these things, not me. And it’s true—problems this large cannot be solved by only individual efforts. But, in today’s Scripture reading, we remember that God gave large-scale instructions for the care of the planet to two individuals: Adam and Eve. He charged just two people with what would ripple into a global responsibility. God speaks the same instructions to me and you. I cannot, by myself, remove plastics from the ocean, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do anything. That doesn’t mean I don’t have the ability to influence those who hold power. That doesn’t mean I ignore God’s instruction to steward Creation to the best of my ability. You and I, as Adam and Eve, bear God’s image. God is a creator who breathes life into God’s creation, and we are made to imitate these creative and life-giving qualities.

Our individual behaviors, however small, do matter. Individual behaviors, collectively, change outcomes. Individual behaviors, collectively, change societal norms. 

Lord, have mercy on us. May we take more seriously our individual and collective obligations to your creation. Amen.