No, you have approached Mount Zion
and the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem,
and countless angels in festal gathering,
and the assembly of the firstborn enrolled in heaven,
and God the judge of all,
and the spirits of the just made perfect,
and Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant,
and the sprinkled blood that speaks more eloquently
than that of Abel.
The New Testament continually assures us, despite our deeply rooted fears, of God's merciful judgement. This reassurance, repeatedly heard and confirmed, must become a blessed assurance so comfortably settled in our hearts we hardly remember when it was not there. And yet we must never forget that it comes from the Lord, a gift that is not yet equally shared among all people.
This gift of God becomes habitual if not instinctive, a "second nature" that is as secure as the smile on a hostess' face. When we're invited to a home for an evening meal we don't expect to find grumpiness or deep distress. We don't expect a recounting of all the trouble our hosts went to in preparation for this meal. We are more likely to wonder, "Do they always eat this well? Is their home always so clean and fresh and pretty?"
The story is told of the Thanksgiving in a fashionable home with its invited guests. When the cook brought in the turkey on a platter she tripped and spilled the prized bird on the floor. Without a moment's hesitation the hostess spoke, "That's okay, Helen. Just throw away that turkey and bring in the other one."
The equally quick Helen caught her gist, the dinner was served, and the guests remembered it with pleasure many years later.
We practice this gracious manner whenever we settle ourselves before God for our morning prayer and evening devotions. That is, we enter like guests who are grateful, courteous and pleased to be in God's presence.
The outstretched arms of the crucifix invite us to wonder at God's mighty deeds. How dearly the Lord has paid for our sanctification! How readily he has offered this sacrifice! And how eagerly we have received this oblation, returning God's favor in kind as we present his Only Son as our most precious and worthy gift.
As this summer of our discontent, with its shootings, scandals, and confusion, comes to an end, we understand God's grace is as sure as gravity. It can be resisted but not overcome. White racism will be turned back; hospitality will welcome refugees; the epidemics of addiction and suicide will ebb. Mercy will triumph in the end.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.