For this is what the Sovereign LORD says: I myself will search for my sheep and look after them.

-Ezekiel 34:11

The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

-Matthew 25:40

Today, if only you would hear his voice, Do not harden your hearts…

-Psalm 95:7b-8a

Can you hear him?

Can you hear the voice of the Shepherd?

Can you hear His call to eternal life?

Can you hear Him, scattered flock?

Listen!

Beyond the noise of chit chat…

Beyond the noise of iPods and radios

Beyond the noise of engines and horns

The Shepherd is calling.

Can you hear him?

Do you recognize his voice?

His sheep know his voice

Can you hear his voice?

calling from a distant land

around the world

the voice of a child,

malnourished and hungry.

The King who once

put on human flesh

now hidden…

in frail, naked bodies

with starved, bloated stomachs.

Can you hear his voice?

calling from a distant land

across the street

the voice of a man

begging for change.

The hands that formed

the depths of the earth

now hidden

in cracked, dirty hands

that hold a beggar’s cup.

Can you hear him?

Can you hear the Shepherd’s voice?

He’s calling for you.

He’s seeking his sheep.

He’s seeking us out.

But we are scattered.

We’ve wandered off into

clouds and darkness

blinded by green-hewed clouds

with presidential faces.

blinded by darkness that glows off of

flat-screens in high resolution

And we fall

into crevices of

to-do lists and

consumer debt and

desires for power

so the Shepherd

calls out our name

but we

Can’t hear his voice

because our hearts…. are hard.

We long to touch the hem of his garment

but his garment is disguised

as an orange jumpsuit

as a hospital gown

as a soiled overcoat

as the unused sweater

stuffed in a our dresser

but longing to embrace the shivering stranger.

But we can’t find the hem of his garment

because we think it’s hidden

on a Macy’s rack

or a

Parisian runway.

We look in the wrong places

because our hearts

are hard.

We long for the comfort of his rod and staff

but his rod and staff are disguised

as an empty cup

as iv needles

plunged into skin

as a cardboard sign

and a grocery cart

filled with things that we dare not touch.

But we can’t find his rod or his staff

because we think they’re hidden

in a 401k

or a

better credit score.

We look in the wrong places

because our hearts

are hard.

We long to hear his voice

and he calls out to us

the Shepherds voice rings out

out of dark prison cells

out from lonely hospital beds

out of kitchens lined with empty cupboards

and filled with hungry families.

But we can’t hear his voice

because we think his voice is calling

from a corner office

or in

friends’ flattery.

We listen to the wrong voices

because our hearts

are hard.

Our hearts are hard

and with

every rationalization and

selfish decision our

frozen hearts get even colder

until we’re blind and deaf

to the Shepherd’s search and call.

So we don’t see the Shepherd

when we walk by

the lonely homeless man

begging for change.

We don’t hear the shepherd

in the silent cries

of the poor woman

with no other income than

her own body.

The Shepherd calls out

cries out

SHOUTS OUT

for our attention

in the voice of

every “least of these.”

And we miss out

because our hearts

are hard.

Rock hard.

Stone-cold hard.

Frozen solid.

But the Shepherd

calls from

one more place.

The Shepherd calls

from a loaf of bread

and cup of wine

set on a table

prepared for us in

the presence of

our enemies.

In the presence of

our hard hearts.

We eat this bread and

our frozen hearts

begin to melt away in

the warmth of his own body.

We drink this cup and

our thawed-out hearts

begin to beat and pump

the Shepherd’s own blood.

And slowly

our eyes open

our ears unplug and

we hear and see the Shepherd in

all who hunger and thirst, and shiver and

we see that the “least of these”

are brothers and sisters.

And finally we hear the Shepherd’s call

“Come, you who are blessed by my Father.”

And we are led back to still waters

and back to the Shepherd’s house

where we will dwell

forever.

I picked up The Way of the Pilgrim again today to read more. Reading a book by a wandering peasant in the comfort of my own home didn’t seem right. So I walked down the street to my favorite place to drink tea – Te Cafe. I ordered a pot of the green tea of the day, and sat down in the big comfy chair in the corner to read more of the Pilgrim’s journey. Shortly into my reading, I across this: “As I came inside the [inn], I saw two distinguished-looking men, one elderly and the other middle-aged and rather stout; they were sitting at a table in the far corner of the room drinking tea.”

I smiled at the connection between me and the book, and kind of wished I would have ordered a pot of Russian Caravan to make the connection even more obvious. I felt a spur of inspiration to imagine myself as one of the men drinking tea and encountering the pilgrim. “Which man am I?” I wondered, “Does it even matter?” As I continued to read, I learned that it matters a lot.

The two men, I read on to learn, were a school teacher and a court clerk. The clerk was immediately sarcastic with the Pilgrim. Upon hearing about the Pilgrim’s encounter with the wolf and how his rosary fended off the wolf, the clerk replied with a smile, “Really? Do wolves pray?” As the pilgrim shared the details of the story, the clerk disregards any sense of the miraculous. He only sees an animal getting frightened by a blunt object being thrown at it.

I wondered to myself, “Is that me? Am I the clerk? Am I only reading the story of a man on an earnest -even admirable – quest but failing to see the depths of mystery, wisdom and holiness at work in the Pilgrim’s story?”

The teacher, on the other hand, saw the miracle, even in ways that the Pilgrim had not yet seen. The teacher saw in wolf’s being tamed by the rosary evidence of the owner’s holiness. The teacher recalls that the animals submitted themselves before Adam, and Adam exercised God-given authority over the animals as he named them. Holiness, the teacher explains is a return to the innocence of Adam in the garden, and that nature still recognizes that innocence and responds as the wolf did.

“Is that me? Am I the teacher? Am I experiencing the depths of mystery, wisdom and holiness in the Pilgrim’s story?”

I know which character I want to be. And the truth is that I’m probably somewhere on a spectrum between the two. I haven’t yet responded to the Pilgrim with the sarcasm of the clerk. But I also haven’t had nearly the depth of insight that the teacher displayed. What I am finding is that I’m falling in love with the God of the Pilgrim. I want to learn from the Pilgrim how to experience God as deeply as he does.

And that’s why we need to look at the Pilgrim’s story – and the whole world – with the same eyes as the teacher. The Pilgrim responds to the teacher’s interpretation of his story by giving him encouragement and instruction in the faith. The Pilgrim disciples him. We can’t learn from the Pilgrim, or any other spiritual master, if we aren’t willing to receive their lives as examples of communion with Jesus Christ.

Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us, that we would have the eyes of faith to see the fruits of holiness in your saints.

1.) Pray daily for two friends. This is a communal discipline that we’re doing at Upper Room. We’re all committing ourselves to two people who don’t yet know Jesus. There are two particular people I’m praying for. Since I don’t want to break any confidentialities, I won’t post their names here. Along with praying for them, I’m planning on taking intentional steps at deepening our friendships.

2.) Meditate daily on a passage from Mark the Ascetic. This is also a communal discipline that I”m doing with folks from the House of St. Michael the Archangel.

3.) Full fasts starting after dinner Thursday evening and ending at dinner Friday evening. This one’s pretty much self-explanatory, though I will say that I’m terrible at fasting. There have been multiple times in the past when I’ve remembered that I was fasting while placing a handful of potato chips in my mouth. With my marathon training schedule, Friday is really the only day I can fast, and even then I’ll need to eat dinner that night before going to bed since I’ll be running 5 miles every Saturday morning. At one point, I seriously considered just letting my marathon training be my Lenten discipline, but that felt like a copout.

4.) I anticipate that this will be the hardest one. It’s kind of complicated, and maybe more of an experiment than a discipline, but here it is: I’m giving up driving alone for distances less than 5 miles. About 2 or 3 months ago, I had the idea of giving up my car altogether for Lent after reading Shane Claiborne’s suggestion in Common Prayer to try going “fuel free” for 1 week. However, I soon decided that was unreasonable. I had completely forgotten about the idea until last week on Ash Wednesday when, due to some poor planning on my end, I found myself without a car at Quiet Storm in Garfield and needing to get to CMU and then back home. I didn’t have exact change for bus fare, so I had to walk. So, I decided maybe this was God’s way of telling me to take up this discipline. Here are the rules I’ve set:

- If I’m going somewhere that is less than 5 miles from my house, I have to either walk, bike or take public transportation.

- I’m allowed drive within that distance if I’m providing a ride to somebody else.

- I’m allowed to drive by myself if going somewhere more than 5 miles away. (I call this the “public transportation in Pittsburgh if awful” clause.)

- I’m not allowed to ask others for a ride if it takes them out of their way. But if they offer, I can accept.

My original purpose behind the discipline was environmental stewardship. Now that I’m a week into it, though, I’m discovering that the real blessing I’m experiencing behind it is a slower pace. Having to walk or take a bus means that I can’t rush from one meeting to another (as I’m prone to doing). Taking the time to walk or sit on the bus is giving me space to think, process conversations, let ideas digest, and pray. Several times now, I’ve found myself praying the Jesus Prayer while walking, modifying it to pray blessings on the people/places I see. (“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on ________”) On Sunday evening, I took a prayer book with me and prayed evening vespers as I walked.

I’ll try to post more about these disciplines as Lent continues. God grant us all a Holy Lent!

The sermon/poem was well-received – maybe just because it was significantly shorter than most of my sermons, but hopefully because it spoke to people’s hearts. The text of the sermon is below, but I suggest reading the Romans and Genesis passages first so that it makes sense.

You made us… for a garden.

Soil and clay fashioned by divine hands and Spirit-breathed into life,

Made to cultivate and till with the Gardener.

Made to be fruitful and multiply

Made to fill and subdue.

Made not to be alone, but together.

Made to hear your footsteps in the cool of the day,

and come running to meet You,

arms open and nothing to hide,

swooped up in your love and laughing in shared delight.

Made to enjoy Your garden together.

Made for satisfaction.

Made for life.

But we chose death.

Adam and Eve reached for that fruit

grasping for equality with you.

The trees that you gave us were not enough

we wanted more.

Being who we are wasn’t enough

we had to be like You.

Life wasn’t enough

we wanted life and knowledge of good and evil…

… and we lost them both.

We chose death.

The garden where once we delighted in love

became a place for hiding and fear.

Your presence ceased to be our delight

Your presence became our dread.

And we spiraled down.

One disobedience leading to others.

Brother kills brother.

Brother steals brother’s birthright.

Brothers sell brother into slavery and traffic brother to Egypt.

And death reigned.

And death reigns.

Death reigns over children robbed of childhood,

toys pried from their fingers and replaced with guns,

forced to kill for the sake of a man they do not know

and a movement they did not start.

Death reigns over women and girls locked up in brothels

forced to do whatever men please,

men who are prisoners themselves -

captive to death disguised as desire.

Death reigns over the child in the sweatshop -

fingers-worn and soul-wearied,

Just so we can afford to keep up with the fashions

and pretend to look like our silver-screen gods.

Death reigns over the girls and boys

who worship these silver-screen gods -

air-brushed idols who demand lives,

starving their followers of food and self-esteem.

Death reigns over the woman abused by her husband,

hiding her bruises and fears from the world around her

and trying to keep an illusion of perfection,

hoping vainly that things will change by remaining the same.

Death reigns over the consumer

coming home from the store with shopping bags

filled with high-fructose poison

that slowly turns our own cells against us.

Death reigns over suburbia -

neighborhoods of half-furnished mansions

freshly mowed and pristine on the outside,

hiding the debt and threats of foreclosure within.

Death reigns over our relationships.

We desire connection without vulnerability.

So we give up on people

and seek community on a computer screen.

Death reigns over our love.

Wanting control, we kill those we love

through actions and words, withholding affection

and, without knowing it, denying love for ourselves.

Our murderous plans become a suicide.

Death reigns

leaving us alone in a self-dug grave

of guilt, emptiness and despair;

life-sapped and soul-drained.

Death reigns

leaving us in a graveyard of doubt

afraid to pray

afraid to love

Death reigns like an oppressive regime

Mocking their captors into hopeless skepticism

Doing all that they can to rob us of hope,

convincing us that the truest realities are doubt and depression

How can this regime be defeated?

Who will free us from this oppressor?

Can an enemy this strong be defeated by anything

but an army of strength and force?

We longed for You.

And You came.

But you didn’t send an army.

You sent Christ into this world

not with gun or sword in his hand,

but with a free gift.

Christ came to undo what Adam did

by not doing what Adam did.

Christ didn’t grasp for equality with You.

Christ made himself nothing.

Christ hangs on the cross

arms open and nothing to hide

swooping us up again in his love,

taking our sin, our doubt and despair.

Christ hangs on the cross

And we hang with him.

Christ dies.

And we die with him.

Our guilt

Our doubt

Our despair

Ourselves

All dead with Christ

Death thinks that it’s won

Death thinks that it reigns

But death died on the cross, too.

Death is dead and Christ is alive

The free gift is an empty tomb.

The free gift is a new relationship.

The free gift is new possibilities

The free gift has a message attached:

“Death does not reign.”

Christ reigns.

Hope reigns.

Life reigns.

Life reigns and sends the Spirit

breathing fresh breath into dry, weary souls.

Redeeming our love and raising our spirits

Hope reigns and sends Christ’s light,

piercing itself into dark rooms and cells.

Undoing shackles and revealing true beauty.

Christ reigns and stands among us

Next to the griever, the patient, the victim.

Next to the buried, calling them up.

Life reigns. And brings freedom.

Freedom to pray

Freedom to love

Freedom to return to the place we belong.

Life reigns.

But life is not like death.

Life is not an oppressor.

Life is a free gift.

Christ reigns and stands among us,

extending to us in nail-pierced hands

the free gift.

Himself. Life.

Life is for us to choose.

And to take it,

all we have to do is die.

Christ, we choose life.

Amen. Amen. Amen.

The most significant crowd support I’ve ever received in a race, though, happened when I was running the Spirit of Pittsburgh Half Marathon. It came from my friend and co-pastor, Chris. As I approached the finish line, I heard him shout “Go Mike!” and I immediately sprinted to the finish line faster than I have in any other race. It wasn’t that Chris said anything profound. It wasn’t even that the encouragement was coming from a friend as opposed to a stranger. The significance was that the race was a relay, and Chris was my partner. Chris had run the first 6.5 miles of the race, tagged me, and I was running the second half. Knowing that the person who started my race was watching made me want even more to end it well. Because my finish was his finish too.

I recalled this experience this afternoon while reading the lectionary’s New Testament reading – Hebrews 11:32-12:2. Hebrews 11 recounts the faithful people of God we read about throughout the Old Testament – Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, the whole nation of Israel crossing the Red Sea and circling Jericho, and Rahab, and more too many to recall. The writer of Hebrews describes how their faith was embodied in actions – and often times stranger actions. Building an ark. Offering his son to God. Giving up privilege. Harboring spies. And as Hebrews sums up, “conquered kingdoms, enforced justice, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the power of fire…”

The people listed in Hebrews 11 are some of the greatest examples of lived-out faith ever. Yet how does Hebrews 11 conclude? Verse 39 says,

And all these, though commended through their faith, did not receive what was promised…

As great as their faith was. It was for all of them a faith with out an ending. A race without a finish line. But then comes the real surprise. Verse 40:

…since God had provided something better for us, that apart from us they should not be made perfect.

The story of God’s faithful is continued in us. We are the continuation of their story. Apart from us, the stories of Abraham, Moses and all of the prophets are stories without endings, a race without a finish.

It’s in light of this that we hear the well-known words that open Hebrews 12:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight… and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us…

The witnesses that surround us, all of the faithful named in Hebrews 11, aren’t merely spectators that came out to watch a race. They aren’t even faster runners who have already finished and are now watching the other participants. They’re our relay partners, watching the finish of the race we’ve started. They aren’t merely watching with curiosity, but with great interest, wanting to see how the race they’ve started will finish.

For Abraham, Moses and the prophets, the finish line was not in sight. Christ had not been revealed. In Christ, though, we can see the end the story when every knee will bow and every tongue confess. We can see the finish line, and our relay partners who started the race are watching and cheering us on. And so, let us run – no, sprint! – toward the finish line – Jesus himself, the author and perfecter of our faith!

Leader: By faith Moses, when he was born, was hidden for three months by his parents, because they saw that the child was beautiful, and they were not afraid of the king’s edict.

People: God of Life, your son Jesus called the little children to himself. Give us faith to care for all children who are in danger – children prone to starvation and malnutrition, children without parents or homes, children whose lives are threatened even still while in their mother’s womb, until all children know Your Fatherly love.

Leader: By faith Moses, when he was grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter; choosing rather to be mistreated with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin. He considered the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, for he was looking to the reward.

People: God of Blessing, your Son Jesus proclaimed that your Kingdom has come, and that your Kingdom belongs to the poor. Give us faith to give up our privilege and our wealth and to live with those who possess your Kingdom, even if it means mistreatment and reproach, until our only treasure is that which you have for us in heaven.

Leader: By faith he left Egypt, not being afraid of the anger of the king, for he endured as seeing him who is invisible.

People: God of Freedom, you led your people safely out of captivity in Egypt, and in Christ lead all out of captivity to sin and shame. Loosen the chains that bind children, women, and men to slavery in our own day. Break the bonds of addiction that hold us captive to the idols of our culture. Give us faith to enter into your promised freedom.

Leader: By faith he kept the Passover and sprinkled the blood, so that the Destroyer of the firstborn might not touch them.

People: God of Passover, your Son Jesus is the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world. Cover us in the blood of Christ. Give us faith to be nourished with Christ’s body and blood in the Eucharist. And prepare us, Christ’s Bride, for the Wedding Feast to come.

Leader: By faith, the people crossed the Red Sea as if on dry land, but the Egyptians, when they attempted to do the same, were drowned.

People: God of Covenant, in our baptism you call us out of the ways of sin and into faithfulness to you. Give us faith to hear and obey your voice, that everything we do and say may serve your purpose.

Leader: By faith the walls of Jericho fell down after they had been encircled for seven days.

People: God of Good News, in Christ, your Kingdom has come, and by your Spirit you have empowered your Church to advance your Kingdom. Give us faith to claim your authority everywhere we go, that walls of division and hostility may crumble, and peoples be reconciled in Christ’s name.

Leader: By faith Rahab the prostitute did not perish with those who were disobedient, because she had given a friendly welcome to the spies.

People: God of the Outcast, in Christ you have adopted us as your children, unworthy as we are. Give us faith to welcome others as Christ has welcomed us. Strengthen us to offer hospitality to all your people, and humble us to receive hospitality from all – saint and sinner, Pharisee and tax collector, maiden and prostitute. May your Church be a sign of your promised peace, justice and reconciliation. Bring new life through Your Church into Your world. Amen.

This list was off the top of my head, and as a consequence, I think it’s a bit biased toward authors I’ve read more recently. The list might be a bit different if I made it while staring at my bookshelf. Even now, I”m realizing I should have included Jurgen Moltmann, GK Chesterton, Henri Nouwen, and maybe Paul Louis Metzger. But I also don’t know who would be removed from the present list to make room for them. At any rate, here it is:

1. St. Luke – OK,  I know that a pastor picking an author of Scripture as a writer who’s influenced him is about as cliché as a beauty queen using the phrase “world peace.” But the Bible is the one book I read from everyday, so it would seem almost dishonest not to include at least one of Scripture’s authors. Since the ‘rules’ limited me to 15 authors, I decided only to include one writer of Scripture. I chose Luke (who wrote Luke and Acts) because I’ve been very struck in recent years by how he portrays both Jesus and the Church in very similar ways.

2. St. Augustine - It’s rare that I read a book more than once. I’ve read The Confessions three times – first in college, then in my first year of seminary, and most recently in my first year as a pastor. I suspect I may read it again after another major life transition. Reading Augustine’s meditations on his past inspired me to do the same, and enabled me to see God’s presence in my life in ways I hadn’t before.

3. Gerard Manley Hopkins – Hopkins was a poet and a Jesuit priest. He struggled for quite a while about whether he was to pursue the priesthood or poetry. Finally, a friend said to him in a letter, “one vocation doesn’t cancel out the other.” In other words, Hopkins wasn’t to be just a priest or a poet, but a priest who writes poetry. The result was a priest with the creativity of a poet, and poetry with the faith and discipline of the priesthood. Hopkins’ own life example has taught me about doing ministry as a whole person, and that interests that I have “outside” of ministry are, in fact, a part of my vocation as a pastor.

4. Michael Frost and Alan Hirsch – The Shaping of Things to Come was, as I recall, the first book I read after seminary, and the first book The Upper Room’s initial leadership team read together. Their teaching about what it means to be “missional” has deeply influenced my work and the culture of the church that I’m planting.

5. Don Everts and Doug Schaupp – Their book, I Once Was Lost, is possibly the best book on evangelism that I’ve read, and is influencing the InterVarsity end of my ministry in big ways.

6. Neil Postman – I read Postman’s Amusing Ourselves to Death in college. It introduced me to the concept of unintended consequences, and that all that we call “progress” (television, internet, cell phones, etc.) can also cause just as much regress.

7. NT Wright - Wright makes the list in part because of how many books of his I’ve read (and probably will read in the future). More significantly, he’s introduced me to interpretations of the New Testament that, while faithful, are also outside of the box of what I’ve been taught in the past.

8. CS Lewis – Mere Christianity was the book that helped me answer more clearly the question of why I believe. It probably aided my intellectual conversion more than any other book apart from the Bible.

9. Phillip Yancey – Like Wright, Yancey makes the list because of number of books I’ve read from him. Most of them were in college. It’s been a while, and I’m not sure if I would enjoy his stuff now as much as I did then. Nevertheless, it certainly shaped me in big ways.

10. John Calvin – For a Presbyterian, this is almost as cliché as including the Bible. But, I spent a good deal of time in the Institutes while in college, and then even more time in seminary. Reading them helped me better understand my own tradition.

11. Karl Barth – I was first introduced to Barth in college. We didn’t actually read Barth. We read about him, and listened to our professor talk about him. People in the class questioned his salvation. (Gotta love Grove City…) I finally read him for myself in seminary, and I couldn’t understand why anyone would doubt his faith. Most of what I’ve read from Barth has had to do with sanctification/holiness and mission. He’s had a great deal of influence on my thinking of both.

12. John Webster – I read Webster’s book Holiness in seminary. More than any other book, it made me realize how important the role of the Church is in one’s spiritual growth. Reading this book is what first made me think about a PhD that would focus on ecclesiology.

13. Anton Chekhov – Since I minored in theatre in college, I needed to include at least a couple of playwrights on this list. I enjoyed reading several of Chekhov’s dramas. But I really like his one-act comedies. I directed The Boar for one of the One Act Festivals at Grove City, and still have fond memories of that.

14. William Shakespeare - I remember struggling with Shakespeare in high school. We did several projects/workshops in our high school drama class of several Shakespeare scenes, and I felt completely lost as to what was going on. Finally in college, I presented a scene from the Taming of the Shrew for my Oral Interpretation class. It was the first time I actually understood Shakespeare, and it felt like a small victory.

15. Albert Hsu – Hsu’s Singles at the Crossroads has helped me understand my being single and place it within a sense of God’s purposes. It helped me to see how the church and our culture are both biased against singleness, but more importantly, it helped me see singleness as a gift to appreciated as much as marriage.

I wonder if churches can go deeper and communicate something more meaningful. What if instead of making church websites primarily about information about activities for people to get plugged in and about setting your church apart from other churches, they were more about testimony? What if church websites were deliberately presented as invitations to “come and see” what God is doing in the midst of the community?

Here are a few possibilities I can think of:

- Written reflections from members of the church about what Jesus is teaching them. (This is actually one of the things we’ve added to the Upper Room website. You should check them out.)

- Testimonies of how different members of the church came to faith. Written testimonies are fine, but posting youtube videos would be a great way of giving people faces and voices to associate with the church before they even arrive.

- Stories from first time visitors about their initial impressions and experiences of the church. (Although I would only recommend this if your church is hospitable!)

This type of content would not only testify to God’s work, but it would also show that the church is a community of people experiencing God’s grace together, and not just  a group of people consuming the same religious goods.

What other types of content should church websites include?

We’ve been spending the whole summer at Upper Room in the story of Jacob in Genesis. This is the next to last sermon in that series. The passage is Genesis 33. This is my own translation of the Hebrew:

33And Jacob lifted his eyes and looked, and behold, Esau was coming, and with him was four hundred men. So he divided the children among Leah and among Rachel and among the two maidservants. ²And he put the maidservants and their children first, and Leah and her children after, and Rachel and Joseph last. ³And he himself passed over in front of them, and bowed to the ground seven times until he drew near to his brother.

⁴And Esau ran to meet him and embraced him and fell on his neck and kissed him and they wept. ⁵And he lifted his eyes and saw the women and children, and said, “Who are these with you?”

And he replied, “The children whom God graciously provided to your servant.” ⁶And the maidservants drew near, they and their children, and they bowed down. ⁷And Leah also drew near with her children and they bowed down. And afterwards Joseph and Rachel drew near and bowed down.

⁸And he said, “What do you mean by all this company which I meet?

He said, “To find favor in your eyes, my lord.”

⁹Esau said, “I have enough, my brother. Let that which is yours be yours.”

¹⁰Jacob said, “No, please, if now I have found favor in your eyes, take my gift from my hand. For my having seen your face is like seeing the face of God, and you have treated me favorably. ¹¹Please take my blessing which has been brought to you. Because God has provided graciously for me. And because I have enough. So he strongly urged him, and he took.

¹²And he said, “Let us set out and go, and I will go in front of you.”

¹³He said to him, “My lord knows that the children are weak, and the flocks and cattle which are nursing are upon me. And if they are driven hard one day, the entire flock will die. ¹⁴Please let my lord pass over in front of his servant, and I will journey slowly according to the pace of the cattle which are in front of me, and according to the pace of the children until I come to my Lord in Seir.

¹⁵And Esau said, “Let me leave with you some of the people who are with me.”

And he said, “Why that? Let me find favor in your eyes, my lord.”

¹⁶And Esau returned that day on his way to Seir.

¹⁷But Jacob set out for Succoth, and built himself a house and made booths for his cattle. Therefore he called the name of the place Succoth. ¹⁸Then Jacob came to Salem, a city of Shechem, which is in the land of Canaan, when he came from Padan Aram, and he encamped in front of the city. ¹⁹And he bought a portion of the field, where  he stretched his tent, from the sons of Hamor, Shechem’s father, for one hundred pieces of money. ²⁰And he erected there an altar and called it El-Elohe-Israel.

Some of my initial observations and questions:

- In verse 11, Jacob insists that Esau receive the “blessing” that he offers him. The Hebrew (“baruch”) is the same word used in Genesis 27 when Jacob tricks Isaac into giving him the blessing due Esau. Is Jacob here trying to undo that injustice by giving to Esau a portion of that blessing?

- There’s a notable difference in how Jacob and Esau refer to one another. Esau refers to Jacob as brother. Jacob uses the language of a more formal (and less personal) relation. Esau is his “lord,” and he is Esau’s “servant.”

- Esau goes to Seir as plan, but Jacob goes to Succoth. I still haven’t looked at a good map to measure distance, but Seir and Succoth aren’t close to each other, as best I can tell. Why does Jacob not keep his word and go to Seir? He seems to be approaching his brother with fear at the beginning of the chapter; is that fear still present even after their reunion and embrace? Did reconciliation actually happen?

Update: From the Commentaries

The commentaries I looked at actually had very little to add. One thing that Victor Hamilton made a point of that I didn’t notice was the difference in Jacob post-wrestling match with God. In the previous chapter, Jacob sent a delegation ahead, and then sent his family across the Jabbok. Leaving himself in the rear. Now, Jacob is in the front of the caravan – the most vulnerable position should Esau and his men choose to attack.

The church fathers had little to say about this chapter. Cyril of Alexandria does, however, see the reconciliation between Jacob and Esau as a foreshadowing of the reconciliation between Jews and Gentiles.

With my missional core, we planned a barbecue, a kick-off worship service, and two international student outreaches. We also arranged for some publicity as new students arrived.

Almost nothing went according to plan. A lot of our publicity efforts fell through for various reasons. It rained, a lot, on the day of the barbecue. No new students showed up for the worship service. For one of our international outreaches, only one new international student showed up. Quantitatively, this NSO seems like a disaster. If I would have been told two weeks ago that this is how NSO was going to go down, I would have expected to feel discouraged by now.

Thankfully, though, and even to my surprise, I’m not discouraged. In fact, I actually feel a deep sense of satisfaction. As I look back, I see how God worked in ways that I couldn’t have planned. I think of our international student outreach, where a returning international student met and talked with an American pastor for English conversation, only to discover that he once visited her small hometown in China, and that she once lived in the small town in Ohio where this pastor now lives – only a few streets away from his house. I think of how the small attendance at our worship service enabled us to prayer-walk the campus, and pray in each grad student’s office for their work and witness there. I think of how the rained-out barbecue led to being able to offer lunch to over 20 people the next day, including 6 newcomers to Pittsburgh.

All of this has taught me three encouraging lessons:

First, I think of Jeremiah 29:11, which begins “I know the plans I have for you…” This verse is quoted by a lot of people. It’s almost a cliché. However, I think I still need to be frequently reminded that these are God’s words to me, not my words to God. Much of what God did through our NSO activities couldn’t have happened had things gone according to my plans.

Second, even before NSO started, God had been bringing to my mind the parable of the mustard seed. Everything about this NSO was smaller than I had anticipated and planned for. It all seemed insignificant and tiny. Praise God, because Jesus says that’s how the Kingdom of God starts coming.

The third lesson came on Sunday when I praying the midday prayer office. One of the written prayers had this line: “Grant that those who labor for you may not trust in their own work but in your help…” I realized when I prayed this that much of my planning for NSO was an act of relying on my own efforts. Rather than trusting God to bring our fellowship in contact with new students, I was trying to rely entirely on emails, fliers and postcards. I spent more time in logistics than I did in prayer. I became an event-planner rather than a minister.

Nothing in the past week seems to have gone according to my own plans. Pray that this continues to be the case, and that God brings to completion the good work he started this semester!