When you pursue a PhD in the British system as I did, you have to defend your thesis (dissertation) in what is called a “viva.” It’s a nerve-wracking several hours spent fielding what seem like endless questions from two examiners. Neither of your examiners are allowed to see any of your work before they receive your thesis. And your supervising professor is not allowed to be present. So, it is quite a solitary experience, but at the same time, in an intriguing kind of way, not.

I graduated from Durham University, and on the day of my viva, immediately before the time of reckoning, my supervisor, David Wilkinson and I shared a coffee and then headed over to the Durham Cathedral for a short time of quiet and prayer. As we sat in that amazing environment, David began casually, but eloquently, to remind me of the history of Durham University. Durham has been a seat of learning for over 1000 years beginning with the Venerable Bede, whose shrine was right behind us as we sat. The tradition of scholarship has continued in an unbroken line ever since, with each new scholar meeting with more experienced scholars to discuss their work. Even though he knew I was nervous and just a bit intimidated by the process, David emphasized that I should enjoy the viva, recognizing that what I was going to experience was much bigger than my thesis. The viva, as stressful as it may feel, was the entrance into a long tradition of scholarship, the doorway into a community stretching back over 1000 years.

After a brief time of prayer, we parted ways and I walked to Abbey House to meet my examiners. During the hours that followed, though I knew it was up to me alone to defend my work, I was surprised to discover that it wasn’t such a solitary experience. Even more to my surprise was the realization, about midway through, that I was actually enjoying myself; it was invigorating.

The memory of that experience, and more specifically of my conversation with David beforehand, has returned to me frequently. As Wesleyan Methodist Christians, we draw upon the insights of John Wesley (and Charles too), which is a wonderful thing. But that’s not who we follow. We follow Jesus Christ. Our tradition didn’t begin in the 18^th century; it began in the first. Our creed isn’t the oddly named “Wesleyan Quadrilateral,” it’s the Nicene.

Just as my viva experience was bigger than my own thesis, we in the Wesleyan Methodist family are part of something much larger than our own history, much more foundational than any structure we might devise for our particular denominations or networks, and deeper, more steadfast and enduring than any passing cultural norm could ever be.

We are part of a magnificent Christian tapestry, woven from the threads of Scripture and a tradition stretching back over 2000 years. Our Wesleyan Methodist strands augment that tapestry, but not in the sense of adding something completely new or different. Those threads augment the tapestry by adding complementary colors to the already existing pattern. Some people describe it as following Jesus in the spirit of the Wesleys. At WME we call it being a Christian with a Wesleyan accent.

In just a few weeks we will celebrate Pentecost, that amazing moment when the Holy Spirit of Jesus began to weave this amazing tapestry of which we are a part. As you continue to pray and fast, I pray that you will discover or rediscover the unique threads and complementary colors that our Wesleyan Methodist family adds to the grand tapestry of Christian faith. And in doing so, you would also recognize that the pattern of God’s Holy tapestry, even as it is augmented by the threads of the Wesleyan Methodist movement, is richer and more vibrant than our few threads alone.

Scripture Focus:

Then the governor’s soldiers took Jesus into the Praetorium and gathered the whole company of soldiers around him. They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and then twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on his head. They put a staff in his right hand. Then they knelt in front of him and mocked him. “Hail, king of the Jews!” they said. They spit on him, and took the staff and struck him on the head again and again. After they had mocked him, they took off the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him.

Matthew 27:27-31 (NIV)

A dear friend of ours always comes to my mind around this time of year. Almost 20 years ago during Holy Week, we received some discouraging news. This friend, whose friendship with my husband and me had stretched almost 30 years, had experienced heart irregularities and the ensuing medical crisis revealed that the cancer he had been battling for several years had returned in the form of a tumor in his heart. Being married to a physician, I had heard about all kinds of strange tumors, but never inside the heart. Cancer is scary enough, but a tumor inside your heart – that ratcheted things up considerably.

Each year, I remember receiving that bad news and I reflect on my friend and all that he meant to me and my husband. That reflection always leads me to a powerful truth: Holy Week is all about power – the powers of this world standing violently over and against the astonishing vulnerability of Jesus. Easter is about power too. But perspective is everything. The world’s perspective is a lot different than God’s perspective. The perspective of Good Friday evening is a lot different than the perspective of Easter Sunday morning. Good Friday is about death. Jesus really did die. But Easter Sunday is about life. Jesus really does live.

Easter Sunday is about the deeper reality of power. The reality of power manifest in the resurrection is that what looked like a failure on Friday is shown to be a victory on Sunday. The reality manifest in the resurrection is that truly liberating power comes only through a noncoercive kind of weakness, a power that shows itself in vulnerability, a power that lives by dying.

The deeper reality of resurrection power is the fact that you can’t experience Easter delight without also experiencing Good Friday despair. It’s a mystery. It’s a paradox. But it’s a reality. For Christ followers our joy is tied to our suffering; our strength to our weakness; our resilience to our vulnerability, our power to our humility and service.

My experience with my friend always brings me back to what matters most: the power of the resurrection is that we claim the joy and hope of Easter even as we’re experiencing the heartbreak and hopelessness of Good Friday. We claim it because as Christ followers we live always on this side of Easter. On the other side of Easter, Good Friday looks like the end. On this side of Easter, we know it’s not. We may experience Good Fridays, but we know that Sunday’s coming.

A few years after we graduated from college, my friend had a transformative experience of the Holy Spirit of Jesus and decided to begin deliberately living his life on this side of Easter. The resurrection power that changed him all those years ago was still at work, even as he suffered through his Good Friday. The resurrection power that changed him was still at work, even as it moved him from death to life.

My Holy Week ritual of remembering my friend keeps me firmly planted on this side of Easter, claiming that same resurrection power. And yet, our world remains in the midst of one long, painful Good Friday. That makes me immensely sad; heartbroken really. But I’m realizing that it’s a peaceful kind of sad, even a hopeful kind of sad. Is that possible? Hope in the midst of sadness? In the midst of heartbreak? Maybe this is what people mean when they talk about assurance – the deep knowledge that Sunday is indeed coming.

Scripture Focus:

If any of you wants to be my follower, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross daily, and follow me.

Luke 9:23 (NLT)

Living the Jesus way is never easy. In many parts of the world, surface religious activity can seem acceptable, even easy. In other parts of the world – like those places of persecution we pray for each week – it can be a very dangerous thing. But even in places where following Jesus seems easy, many of our cultures can be resistant and unreceptive to those who take their faith beyond the confines of their homes or houses of worship. So, regardless of whether it’s truly dangerous or whether it’s simply culturally unpopular, faithfully following Jesus can be challenging.

Where I live, shallow, surface following is easy. There’s no danger in attending church. It’s so easy to attend that many of our churches are filled with attendees, and even members, but not necessarily filled with disciples. But simply attending seldom leads to the deep and authentic faith that God desires for each of us. Deep and authentic faith is meaningful; but can also be costly, challenging, even frightening.

Jesus understands our difficulty. He never said it would be easy to follow him; in fact, he warned us about the challenges when he described what it takes to be his follower—putting aside selfish ambition and shouldering our cross.

Rather than inviting us to something shallow, Jesus invites us to experience real, authentic faith – meaningful faith – by following, not at a distance, but by his side. He carries his cross, and we carry ours. For many of us though, Jesus’ words about shouldering our cross have come to represent the bad things in our lives. We see the bad things as unique to our own lives and those bad things become the crosses we have to bear. To be sure, there is an element of truth in this concept of shouldering our cross. Jesus does not desire that we run from suffering. We must deal with it head on and look to God for strength as we persevere.

That truth, however, is only part of what Jesus means when he tells us that to be his followers, we have to shoulder our cross. A deeper meaning lies in how we follow. We are to follow in the same way that Jesus leads. We abandon selfish ambition in favor of service in the Jesus way. As Jesus gave of himself, we give of ourselves. We reach out to others just as he reached out to others. As Jesus loved, so do we love. As Jesus sacrificed himself for us, so do we sacrifice ourselves for others. We follow by picking up the cross. Jesus’ cross becomes our cross; his love becomes our love; his sacrifice becomes our sacrifice.

Peter is one of my favorite disciples. He fumbled and bumbled in following Jesus. He stepped off the boat in faith, only to sink a moment later. On the night Jesus was betrayed Peter followed him into the courtyard but lurked in the shadows for fear of being identified in the light of the fire. He was following, but definitely at a distance. And yet, when he realized that real faith required him to follow Jesus side by side rather than at a distance, Peter’s life was transformed. It wasn’t that difficulty suddenly disappeared; it was that power suddenly appeared.

Jesus promised his disciples power through the gift of the Holy Spirit (Acts 1:8-11). They experienced that power at Pentecost (Acts 2:1-4) when the Holy Spirit fell upon them all. And how does Peter respond to all this? He preached with boldness and lives were transformed.

It can be risky business to move close to the fire where we might be recognized as followers of Jesus. It can be challenging to carry the cross of Jesus, to go deeper into our faith and follow with greater boldness. Yet when we take that risk and pick up our cross, we are promised the power necessary to meet the challenge. The power of the Spirit of Jesus invigorates us, giving us not only the strength we need to carry the crosses that we encounter in our lives, but the boldness we need to live our lives fully in the light of the fire, recognizable by all as followers of Jesus Christ.

As you pray and fast, reflect on the elements of your life, or circumstances you’ve encountered, that provide the most challenge to you as you follow Jesus. What are the crosses you are bearing? Now think about your experience of power as you follow Jesus. Are you claiming Jesus’ promise? In these days of Lent, I’m praying that God will pour out his Holy Spirit on you as you seek to shoulder the cross of discipleship. That even though difficulty may not disappear, power would appear.

Scripture Focus:

You have heard my predictions and seen them fulfilled, but you refuse to admit it. Now I will tell you new things, secrets you have not yet heard. They are brand new, not things from the past. So you cannot say, ‘We knew that all the time!’

Isaiah 48:6-7 (NLT)

“The day is coming,” says the Lord, “when I will make a new covenant with the people of Israel and Judah. This covenant will not be like the one I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand and brought them out of the land of Egypt. They broke that covenant, though I loved them as a husband loves his wife,” says the Lord. “But this is the new covenant I will make with the people of Israel after those days,” says the Lord. “I will put my instructions deep within them, and I will write them on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people.”

Jeremiah 31:31-33 (NLT)

One of my favorite quotes for this time of year is by Rainer Maria Rilke who said, “And now we welcome the new year. Full of things that have never been.” In our passages for today, God talks about new things. New things are on the horizon. He plans to make a new covenant and tell his people brand new things that they have never known before.

Jesus frequently said, “In the past it was written… but I say…” Those words should remind us that our faith doesn’t exist in the past, it’s a present reality, which brings with it a new future built on our new relationship with God.

We’ve welcomed our Messiah Jesus and entered a new year. God didn’t become human in Jesus to focus on the past. God became human in Jesus to usher in a new kingdom and that kingdom begins now. We don’t have to look to the past for our spiritual power, and we don’t have to wait for the future. God is working, in the present, doing brand-new things NOW.

Laurie Beth Jones has written that “all the power of the universe is hovering around us – waiting for us to claim it and call it forth into being. Just because we have stumbled for years in the dark doesn’t mean we can’t, or shouldn’t, turn on the light.” [1]

Jesus came to bring light to the darkness and the darkness has never been able to put it out. We can live in that light, now. We’ve been set free from the past – from all the “if only’s” that burden and weigh us down. As we move more fully into this new year, claim the truth that our spiritual power rests in the present. That is where God is doing these brand-new things. Not the past, not the future, but now.

As you pray and fast, reflect on the things that may have been holding you back. The “if only’s” that may be burdening you. How can you release those and claim the spiritual power of the present?

[1]  Laurie Beth Jones, Jesus in Blue Jeans: A Practical Guide to Everyday Spirituality, (New York: Hyperion, 1997) p103.

Scripture Focus:

Write this letter to the angel of the church in Smyrna. This is the message from the one who is the First and the Last, who was dead but is now alive:

I know about your suffering and your poverty—but you are rich! I know the blasphemy of those opposing you. They say they are Jews, but they are not, because their synagogue belongs to Satan. Don’t be afraid of what you are about to suffer. The devil will throw some of you into prison to test you. You will suffer for ten days. But if you remain faithful even when facing death, I will give you the crown of life. Anyone with ears to hear must listen to the Spirit and understand what he is saying to the churches.

Revelation 2:8-11 (NLT)

My grandfather’s name was Murdock Dunnam. For some strange reason, he was known in the family as Grandpa Mutt. He lived into his nineties. Near the end of his life, he began experiencing significant health challenges. First a blood clot in his leg. The doctors thought they would have to amputate because the arteries were so hardened they couldn’t remove the clot and were fearful the leg would “die” for lack of blood.

When he got out of the hospital my father was able to visit. They had a wonderful conversation. They talked about my grandmother Cora – we called her Grandma Corie or sometimes just Co-bell. She had died two years prior. Teary-eyed, my grandpa talked about how he missed her more every day. They had been married almost 70 years.

They talked about his life and faith. He knew he had come through a death-threatening situation and was still in a precarious situation. My father asked him what he thought about his close call and was he ready. His eyes twinkled and he smiled as he said, “I’ve been praying that I would live to be a hundred, but if I go tomorrow, it’s OK. The Lord has been good.”

As my father and grandfather visited, my dad asked his father to sing for him. That’s always been a part of our family visits – especially when my grandma was living. We would all sit together and sing the gospel songs that nurtured Co-bell’s and Mutt’s faith. This time Mutt sang a portion of two songs. One song, You Never Mentioned Him to Me, is about our failure to witness for Christ: “You passed me day by day, and you knew I was astray, but you never mentioned him to me.” The other was “On Jordan’s Stormy Banks I Stand.” A part of that song goes:

On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand and cast a wishful eye

To Canaan’s fair and happy land, where my possessions lie.

It was obvious that my grandpa was reflecting on how faithful he had been in living the Christian life and sharing Christ with others. He was also expressing his wistful longing to be reunited with my grandma in “Canaan’s fair and happy land.”

When I think about this story, I’m reminded of my grandparents’ tombstones that are in the little country church cemetery just up the hill from where they lived. Grandma Corie’s last words to my grandpa were, “I’ll meet you.” His response to her was, “I’ll be there.” Those words are etched on each of their tombstones.

When I think about my grandparents, I think of Revelations 2:10. “Be faithful even when facing death, and I will give you the crown of life.” It’s a fabulous oxymoron: faithful to death – crown of life. That’s what this yearlong devotional journey has been about – making us fit for this life as persons “in Christ,” Kingdom people now, and fit for the eternal Kingdom.

Not all of us will live until ninety with a prayer to go for 100, but we can have a twinkling eye – confident that if we go tomorrow, all will be well.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German pastor and theologian during the rise of Hitler’s Third Reich. From the beginning he sensed the evil of this rise of Nazi power and risked everything in his fight against it. In 1943 he was arrested and imprisoned in Berlin and later in Buchenwald. From prison he wrote letters that still define and call us to courage and hope. In one of his letters, he shared this prayer: “Give me the hope that will deliver me from fear and faintheartedness.” He was given that hope, which delivered him from fear and faintheartedness, and empowered him to face execution with courage.

Whatever happens, faithfulness and hope give us the confidence that God is alive and is sovereign. The resurrection of Jesus provides that confidence and hope. And it’s the resurrection of Jesus that gives ultimate meaning to our celebration of the birth of the Messiah Jesus. For the very reason God became human in Jesus was that ultimately death might be defeated, and we might have life, and have it abundantly.

My grandma and grandpa are singing the songs of faith and hope in their eternal home. And my family continues to sing them here. As you pray and fast this week, anticipating welcoming the birth of our Savior, the Messiah Jesus, I pray that this devotional journey we’ve shared during 2024 has helped you clarify the song of your life and given you the confidence to sing it.

Scripture Focus:

O Lord, you will hear the desire of the meek; you will strengthen their heart; you will incline your ear to do justice for the orphan and the oppressed, so that those from earth may strike terror no more.

Psalm 10:17-18 (NRSV)

Yet a little while, and the wicked will be no more; though you look diligently for their place, they will not be there. But the meek shall inherit the land and delight themselves in abundant prosperity.

Psalm 37:10-11 (NRSV)

“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.”

Jesus (Matthew 5:5, NRSV)

The fruit of the Spirit we’ve been studying during this year have a wonderful parallel in Jesus’ Beatitudes found in Matthew 5. The third of these, “Blessed are the meek,” is Jesus’ affirmation of people who have the fruit of gentleness growing in their lives. The Greek word translated gentleness in Paul’s list of fruit of the Spirit is prautes. Of all the words in Paul’s list, this is the most difficult to translate. Some have suggested that the Greek adjective praus can help us understand. This word is used to describe an animal who has been tamed and brought under control. For the Christian, it means submission to the will of God.

“Blessed are the meek,” is talking about the kind of person who is faithful and submissive to God even in the midst of trial, which means the meekness, or gentleness, that’s blessed by Jesus isn’t weakness; it’s strength. Meek people know their strength but submit that strength to Christ in a ministry of love and caring for others. Martin Luther described this kind of person as “the most free lord of all.”

In his second letter to Timothy, Paul talks about a “worker approved by God,” one who has no need to be ashamed.

A servant of the Lord must not quarrel but must be kind to everyone, be able to teach, and be patient with difficult people. Gently instruct those who oppose the truth. Perhaps God will change those people’s hearts, and they will learn the truth.

2 Timothy 2:24-25 (NLT)

This description illuminates specific aspects of meekness. One, respect for others: “must not quarrel but must be kind to everyone.” The gentle meek don’t have to prove themselves. They don’t build themselves up by tearing others down.

Two, purposeful but person-centered: “be patient with difficult people.” The gentle meek have a purpose, a life-agenda that’s clear, but they value persons more than process or prowess. They’re willing to move more slowly if necessary to express value for others.

Three, certain and confident but not arrogant or proud: “Gently instruct those who oppose the truth.” The gentle meek know who they are and are strong in their convictions, but they don’t used their strength to intimidate others.

Years ago, the actor Peter Ustinov was reflecting on the images that actors have to live with and made this profound observation: “It’s a sad state when the man looking at you in the mirror is more important than the man looking into the mirror.” The meek aren’t caught in that bind. Because they don’t pretend, they don’t have to prove anything. They don’t have to worry about their image.

The meek also know their need for God, and they never forget their story. I’m reminded of Eleanor Boyer. Back in the late 1990’s Eleanor won the New Jersey state lottery. Her story was reported by USA TODAY because she secretly and suddenly gave all the money away. Explaining her generosity, she simply said, “I have my pension and Social Security. I have everything I need. Why let the money sit in the bank till I die?” After her big win she waited only three weeks before donating more than $5.9 million to her parish, The Church of the Immaculate Conception in Somerville, New Jersey. Keeping her generosity mainly local, she also gave to various charitable organizations, needy persons in her neighborhood, and three nephews who were her only close relatives. Even with the huge gift to her church, the interest on Eleanor’s winnings – $10,000 a month – was coming in faster than she could give it away. She was deluged with letters and requests and each one got personal attention and an immediate decision.

While she always expressed a desire to remain private, there was a great deal of publicity associated with Eleanor’s generosity. Lottery officials and experts across the nation at that time knew of no one who gave away such a great amount, so quickly and so fully. Despite all the publicity, however, Eleanor Boyer’s life changed little. She remained in Somerville in the same gray Cape Cod-style house where she was born. And the church remained her focus as it had all her life. She sang in the choir, taught religion classes, and counted the Sunday offering. She continued to attend Mass daily, driving her 1969 Chevy Malibu. She continued to rise early for prayer and drop her weekly envelope in the collection plate.

Eleanor Boyer knew her need for God. She knew her story and never forgot it. To be meek, we must remember our story and be ever aware of our need for God. No matter what happens to us, how successful we are, to what level accomplishment we may rise, we remember the soil from which we have grown, those who have made us who we are.

As you pray and fast, reflect on how well you know who you are. How secure are you in that? To what degree do you know your need for God? Do you remember your story? Do you stay in touch with where you came from?

I will be praying that you would claim the gentle strength of meekness – cultivating a respect for others and an awareness of your purpose. That you would experience a certainty and confidence that comes when we know we have nothing to prove because we recognize our need for God and never forget the soil from which we have grown.

Scripture Focus:

Well then, should we keep on sinning so that God can show us more and more of his wonderful grace? Of course not! Since we have died to sin, how can we continue to live in it? Or have you forgotten that when we were joined with Christ Jesus in baptism, we joined him in his death? For we died and were buried with Christ by baptism. And just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glorious power of the Father, now we also may live new lives. Since we have been united with him in his death, we will also be raised to life as he was. We know that our old sinful selves were crucified with Christ so that sin might lose its power in our lives. We are no longer slaves to sin. For when we died with Christ we were set free from the power of sin. And since we died with Christ, we know we will also live with him. We are sure of this because Christ was raised from the dead, and he will never die again. Death no longer has any power over him. When he died, he died once to break the power of sin. But now that he lives, he lives for the glory of God. So you also should consider yourselves to be dead to the power of sin and alive to God through Christ Jesus.

Romans 6:1-11 (NLT)

Earlier this year, we talked about faith as one of the three “theological virtues.” This month we’re thinking about faith and faithfulness, faithfulness as a fruit of the Spirit.

William Stringfellow was a well-known lawyer, theologian, and author who used his legal skills to defend the poor. He was an outspoken opponent of all forms of oppression and considered by many to be one of the most outstanding lay theologians of the 20^th century. In 1974, he served as defense lawyer for eleven women who were irregularly ordained to the Episcopal priesthood. It was a case that opened the way for the official recognition of the ordination of women in the Episcopal Church.

Stringfellow died in 1985 at the age of fifty-six. Three days after his death, friends and family gathered at his island home to celebrate his life. Daniel Berrigan, a Roman Catholic priest, poet, and peace advocate, gave the eulogy. The magazine Sojourners reprinted part of what he said:

For thousands of us, he became the honored keeper and guardian of the word of God; that is to say, a Christian who could be trusted to keep his word, which was God’s word made his own. To keep that word close, to speak it afresh, to make it new…

He could act honorably and courageously on occasion, in the breech, because he lived that way, over the long haul. In public and private, in good times and ill, in health and sickness, he kept his word.

And that word, which he kept and guarded and cherished, it now keeps him. That is the way with the Word, which we name Christ. The Covenant keeps us, who keep the Covenant. [1]

That’s the picture of faithfulness: “The Covenant keeps us who keep the Covenant.” Because our faith is in God’s faithfulness, we can be faithful.

Days like ours call for faith and faithfulness: faith in the One who, in all grace, died for our sins, and died that sin and evil might die; faithfulness to our experience of redemption, and the promise that, by Jesus’ power, “we are no longer slaves to sin” (Romans 6:6).

Days like ours call for faithfulness. Political problems which are baptized with evil and energized by institutional selfishness are complex, some would say unsolvable. Human problems such as poverty and starvation are so monumental that we’re tempted to throw up our hands. The strong forces of evil have their work recorded in daily news stories of crime, pornography, violence, racism, human beings being exploited and their dignity trampled. The word of Paul that sin abounds is an understatement. But Paul didn’t stop with a partial diagnosis. Sin abounds – but grace abounds even more. It’s hard to see. So very hard to see. And that’s the reason the fruit of faithfulness is so desperately needed in our day.

We’ve entered the season of Advent, a time of preparation for the most mind-boggling yet life-giving indication of God’s faithfulness – The Word becoming flesh to dwell among us. As you pray and fast in the coming days, reflect on the truth that the most meaningful things in life – our relationship to God, friendship, opportunities – these things often come as a result of decisions we have made, steps we have taken. Where are you in life as a result of the steps you have taken? What role have faith and faithfulness played?

I will be praying for you! That you would live out the truth that the Covenant keeps those who keep the Covenant.

[1] Daniel Berrigan, Sojourners Magazine, May 1985, p33.