Love Your Enemies

We’re all told not to hate from a young age, but it’s hard to avoid. We all have those people who work against us, who do us wrong, or who we just plain don’t like. Jesus doesn’t come to offer us life that looks like “business as usual.” His abundant life looks different.

Matthew 5:43-47 (CEB)

43 “You have heard that it was said, You must love your neighbor and hate your enemy. 44 But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who harass you 45 so that you will be acting as children of your Father who is in heaven. He makes the sun rise on both the evil and the good and sends rain on both the righteous and the unrighteous. 46 If you love only those who love you, what reward do you have? Don’t even the tax collectors do the same? 47 And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing? Don’t even the Gentiles do the same?

Those are some hard instructions! How do we pray for our enemies? Better yet, how do we do that and not have it sound like this?


What is a sermon preview?
Sermon previews are released on Thursdays. They offer a short glimpse of what we’re going to talk about on Sunday morning.

Here’s the prayer for our enemies that I shared on Sunday. Try praying it for someone who frustrates you to see how God moves in your heart and life.

I don’t know how to love my enemies, but I trust you can change my heart and theirs. Bless (say their name). Make your presence known and bring us both closer to you. Amen.

Intersection of Old and New

This week I went hunting for the first time. (Technically we’re actually out of season for hunting raccoons, so we only ran the dogs, but I’m still counting it). I was surprised how much technology we used. We had special lights with two settings: one for walking and one for looking up into the trees. The dogs were fitted with tracking collars that link to a smartphone app so we knew which direction they were and how far away. The app even changes when the dog has treed a raccoon!


However, even with the all technology, some things don’t change. Several times we turned off our lights and let the dogs chase the scent. Standing there in the woods, looking up at the stars and listening to the barks, I felt as though I could have been standing there two hundred years ago.


We stood at the intersection of the old and the new. The technology changed what we could do, making it easier to move through the woods and find the dogs. The app helped me better understand what the more seasoned hunters knew instinctively from the pitch and rhythm of the barks. But at the end of the night, we’re doing the same thing hunters have done for generations: trusting the dogs. They smell, chase, bark and (if you’re lucky) tree. What happens in the woods is entirely up to them. Technology changes what we can do, but when you get down to the basics, it’s the same as it’s always been.


As a pastor, I can’t help see a connection to church. We use a lot of new things in church: microphones, screens, instruments (even organs were new at one point!). However, when you get down to the very basics, church hasn’t changed. We’re still the gathered community, praising God, hearing the Word, and then sent out into the world to live our faith. Technology changes how we share our message, but the message is what it’s always been.


What’s something in your life that’s a mix of old and new? Something that looks different today but at its heart is the same? Where have you stood at that intersection?

I recently read Amanda Palmer’s The Art of Asking. I didn’t know much about her as an artist, besides her share of odd and amusing headlines. I’m not sure what I expected when I picked it up. I was on the hunt for a new book to read before bed (non-fiction, because I can’t put fiction down and go to sleep!).

Palmer’s history as a street performer brings a difference perspective than most on what it means to be an artist. She carries the desire for the one-to-one or one-to-few connection carries in her current artistic endeavors with house shows and being one of the first artists to embrace crowdfunding (both Kickstarter and Patreon).

I found this interesting, since I’ve backed several projects on Kickstarter and really like the idea behind Patreon. However, I never expected the book to apply to me. After all, I’ve never considered myself an artist, or even particularly creative. Painting, sculpting, photography, any of those visual mediums were never my thing. Neither was music nor creative writing. I saw those as gifts and talents belonging to others. So I was quite surprised to come across this quotation in the book.

The impulse to connect the dots–and to share what you’ve connected–is the urge that makes you an artist. If you’re using words or symbols to connect the dots, whether you’re a “professional artist” or not, you are an artistic force in the world. (p16-17)

I read that and realized that I’m an artist. All preachers are. We desire to connect people with the living God, with Scripture, with faith, and with one another. We use mostly words, but also images, clips, props, music, and anything else we think will help people see how old words and a man who lived 2000 years ago relate to their life today.

I’m still discovering what it means to consider myself an artist as a preacher. That is a new idea for me not only personally, but also vocationally. Seminary didn’t talk about pastors as artists. I never thought about pastoring as a creative endeavor. Palmer opened up that definition to me. I’m exploring the idea further, using her book and others. I’m curious to see where the journey goes and I’ll be sharing more reflections here.

This past week I listened to Pulpit Fiction’s recent interview with Rachel Held Evans, which you can listen to here. (Pulpit Fiction is a lectionary resource that I highly recommend.) As soon as she started talking I thought, “She doesn’t sound like I expected!” It actually threw me for a second, thinking I might have clicked the wrong link.

It’s weird that hearing Rachel’s voice throws me, because she has a Southern accent that I’ve heard all my life. It’s not really about Rachel though; the problem lies somewhere else. I read Rachel’s blog on a regular basis, and like anything else I read on the Internet, I read it in my head. Which means I hear her words with my own voice. Do that enough times and you begin to forget there’s someone else on the other end of the screen. After a while, the words on the screen become all you associate with that person.

Social media is not much better. Although Facebook and Twitter have your name and picture attached to your posts, it’s still easy to forget the person on the other end. You lose the benefit of inflection, tone, expression, and all other important non-verbal communications. Smilies and emojis just don’t cut it.

Of course, talking in person isn’t perfect. There’s lots of ways of disengage or not engage in every conversation. Sometimes we sit without listening, only waiting for our turn to speak. But at least I can’t forget you’re a real person when you’re sitting in front of me.

Here’s my dilemma. Having recognized a problem, I have no idea how to address it. I don’t know how to be better at seeing, or at least remembering, the person on the other end of the screen. The prevalence of social media means this isn’t going away any time soon, so I could use some help. After my blanket apology to Rachel and all other people on the Internet, “I’m sorry I forgot you were real people,” what’s next?

I hope you have an idea. How do you avoid my mistake? How do you remember the person on the other side of the screen?

Wrestling with Modern Art

Modern art exists in an interesting place in our culture. Some people love it. Others struggle to see the artistry, sometimes dismissing it as “not real art.” Of course, the same things they say about Pollack or Warhol (or more recent artists), they said about Van Gogh or Picasso. Art is always evolving, always changing. Different artistic movements rise up to respond to the culture or context.

Art has never been simple. It’s always made statements about our world. However as long as artists focused on realism, it was easier to decipher that statement. When comparing a modern piece to a Rembrandt, it can be harder to see the artistry. Appreciating modern art sometimes feel like Jacob wrestling at the Jabbok. You have to wrestle until it blesses you.

That’s how I felt experiencing On Kawara’s Silence exhibition. Silence incorporates several different series of Kawara’s work. His most well-known is probably Today. Each painting has the date the work was completed in white letters on a solid color canvas. The dates are always centered regardless of the canvas size. The paintings are sometimes displayed with newspaper clippings from the day he painted or following day (so news on the actual day of painting), but Kawara chooses the clippings solely by whatever struck him. He makes no claim that these events were worthy of noting the day.

The one that really struck was a joint collection of I Got Up, I Met and I Went. I Got Up are postcards sent to friends with the time he woke up that morning. I Met is a binder with collections of names of the people he met in a day, a project he began because he was bad with Western names. I Went are maps with highlighted routes of where he went in the day.

The exhibition presents information without context. We see particular days and news stories or places, names, and wake-up times, but nothing about the day’s value. Each day simply is, with no positive or negative statements. I have no idea how Kawara feels about any day, the people he met, or the places he saw. Which also means I don’t know how I feel about those particular days; they are just days.

In our age of extreme information, it’s a bit unsettling to realize that all this information doesn’t actually tell us anything. With everything that gets published, spoken, sung, or tweeted in a day how much information is added to our experience every day? And yet, in a vacuum of perspective, it’s all just words.

How many of my days are filled like this, lots of information but little to no meaning? Places, times, even people, but no life. For me, this is the challenge, the revelation of Kawara’s Silence. These things on their own do not make a life. They are only a tiny drop in the ever-growing sea of information. Their true value requires meaning and perspective to come alongside. The what, where and who needs the why.

How do you stay focused on your why in the midst of the what, where and who? How do you define the value of your day?

Why We Read Again

“What are you doing here? I’ve got nothing for you. You’ve heard it all already.”

These words from Jason Byassee greeted me as I stood up to ask him a question at the NC Preaching Festival. I’ve been blessed to hear Jason speak at several venues in the past few years and I always receive a similar greeting. Today, Jason, allow me to answer your question.

I am here because I hear something new every time. I am here because through the miracle of the Holy Spirit in proclamation and teaching there is fresh inspiration. Simply put, I am here because there is new beauty.

It occurs to me this is how we read Scripture as Christians. The text does not change. The words are the same, the stories familiar, the characters known. And yet we return to read again and again. Why? Because we believe these words matter, these words are life. We return because the Holy Spirit inspires us anew when we read. We return because there is new beauty.

It would be uncharitable of me not to extend a final word of grace to my questioner. Jason, I know, even as the question sounds harsh to the unknowing ear, it is said with a smile and with love. It is said with humility. “I cannot teach you more. Go hear someone else!” It has become our ritual in these spaces of saying, “It is good to see you, friend.”

As I open my Bible tomorrow morning, I will imagine Jesus, the Word, standing over my shoulder. “What are you doing here?” he will say. “You’ve heard it all already.” But I will see the grin and reply, “I am here because there is life. I am here because there is beauty, again and again.”

“It is good to see you, friend.”

Share What You Love

A strange thing happened to me last week. I was home, the Super Bowl was on, and I wasn’t watching. I’ve been a football fan most of my life (hard not to be growing up in SEC country). And while I still prefer the NCAA to the NFL, I follow them both. Like many fans, I wasn’t overjoyed with the prospects of having to root for Seattle or New England as I had pulled for all of their opponents during the playoffs. But it was still the Super Bowl; I was going to be watching. We invited a couple friends over, Kathy made some amazing game food, and we settled in to watch the game.

Partway through the first half, it happened. I mentioned this card game I just backed on Kickstarter, Exploding Kittens. (If you like silly games or the Oatmeal comic, you should definitely check it out!) Our friends’ 8 year-old lit up with excitement so I pulled out my iPhone to show him the game. After he was reading through the cards, I remembered I also had the app on my iPad, which would be much easier to read given the larger screen. Once he finished reading all the cards and rules, he saw my “Games” folder. Almost three years ago I got bit by the board game bug, hard. (It’s honestly the fault of Wil Wheaton and his show Tabletop which you can find on the Geek & Sundry YouTube Channel.) After I found some favorites, I discovered that there were app versions as well. They’re not quite as fun without the physical elements and the screen can interrupt the social element a bit, but they’re handy in a pinch.

V wanted to try all the games I had. A couple he knew, but was unfamiliar with them on iPad. Once he figured those out, I showed him the tutorials for several others and then let him try them. These were longer games, so I checked in every few minutes to see how he was getting on. He even challenged me to a couple games on the iPad plus a round of Zombie Fluxx with the cards.

It wasn’t until the 4th quarter that I realized how much of the game I had missed. I wasn’t that concerned, since I wasn’t too invested in either team. In fact, I didn’t think much of it until the next day. I had been really excited to watch the game with friends. Why didn’t I care about missing it?

I realized it was because I shared a passion. I enjoy football, but I love gaming. Football is a distraction, a diversion but gaming is all about connection and story. I love that. So of course I didn’t mind missing the game; I found something better.

I wonder how often I do that every day? How often do I choose the diversion over my passion? I’m afraid I won’t like the answer but I think it’s worth exploring during this season of my life.

How about you? What’s your passion? How are you sharing it?