In step

[RiverOL]

The Global Mission of the Servant​

The Global Mission of the Servant​

Isaiah 49:1–13​

The global mission of the servant Jesus was to bring salvation to the entire world, and we are called to join in that mission.

Introduction:​

Have you ever felt like your efforts were wasted? Like what you’ve done hasn’t made a difference? We all experience moments of discouragement when our work feels fruitless. Isaiah 49 speaks into that feeling by revealing a Servant who was called by God for a great mission—a mission that seemed to falter but ultimately fulfilled God’s global purpose.

In this passage, God expands the Servant’s mission beyond Israel to the entire world. Jesus, the ultimate Servant, fulfills this mission by bringing salvation to all people. Today, we will explore how God’s global mission through His Servant also invites us to participate in reaching the world with His hope.

The Servant’s Divine Calling (Isaiah 49:1–3)​

“Before I was born the Lord called me; from my mother’s womb he has spoken my name.” (v. 1)

Jesus was called by God before His earthly life began, fulfilling this prophecy (Luke 1:31-33). Just as Jesus was sent, God calls each of us to specific purposes. The Servant’s words are powerful and purposeful, bringing truth and justice.

God has a purpose for your life, prepared before you were born. Are you listening for God’s calling in your life? How can you speak God’s truth with both grace and clarity?

The Servant’s Struggle and Trust in God (Isaiah 49:4)​

“But I said, ‘I have labored in vain; I have spent my strength for nothing at all. Yet what is due me is in the Lord’s hand, and my reward is with my God.’”

Even the Servant expresses feelings of failure and exhaustion. Jesus remained faithful even when misunderstood and rejected. Success isn’t measured by visible results but by obedience to God.

Are you discouraged by fruitless efforts in ministry or life? God values your faithfulness more than your visible success. What areas of your life do you need to surrender to God’s timing?

The Servant’s Global Mission (Isaiah 49:5–7)​

“It is too small a thing for you to be my servant to restore the tribes of Jacob… I will also make you a light for the Gentiles, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.” (v. 6)

God’s plan was never just for one nation but for all people. Jesus declares, “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12). God’s heart beats for the nations, and so should ours.

How are you reflecting God’s light in your family, community, and world? Are you praying for and supporting global missions? Who in your life needs to hear about Jesus?

God’s Promise of Restoration and Comfort (Isaiah 49:8–13)​

“In the time of my favor I will answer you, and in the day of salvation I will help you.” (v. 8)

Jesus brought salvation in God’s perfect timing. Jesus frees us from sin and offers restoration. God promises comfort and provision for His people.

Where do you need God’s comfort and restoration today? How can you extend God’s comfort to those around you?

God’s Servant was not sent just for Israel but for the entire world. Jesus fulfilled this mission by bringing salvation to all people, and He calls us to continue that mission. Whether through prayer, giving, or personal witness, we are invited to be part of God’s global plan.


Pray for one person in your life who needs to know Jesus. Give to support missions locally and globally. Go by sharing the hope of Jesus with someone this week.

Father, thank You for sending Jesus, the Servant, to bring salvation to the whole world. Help us to trust You in times of discouragement and to boldly share Your light with others. Open our eyes to the people around us who need Your hope, and give us the courage to join in Your mission. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

 

[RiverOL]

[td] Want More Persevere(ability)?​ ​ ​

[td] Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour—1 Peter 5:8​ ​ ​

[td] The ability to persevere—to remain strong and steadfast in the face of difficulties and delays and distractions—is a fundamental skill, necessary for any man choosing to devote himself to our King, Jesus Christ. He showed us how in the wilderness and against the temptations that followed (Matthew 4:1-11). Like him, we too must bear up against the pressures of the world, and not only for a while, but until the very end of our days. Though any one trial or temptation may be short lived, there’s always something out there capable of our destruction. Preparedness is paramount. You see, when we’re unprepared and trouble comes (at work, in our relationships, our finances, our health) it takes us down: into anxiety, anger, bitterness, despondency, depression, isolation. When we’re unprepared and temptations come (material, carnal, moral) they too take us down: away from God and into sin. Compounding our lack of preparedness, the enemy is always quick with interference and misinformation. "You won’t make it." "This’ll be long and difficult . . . too long, too difficult for you." "You’re alone, forgotten." "You won’t have strength enough to persevere." "You should just give-up/give-in now, and avoid the grief of waiting, just to give later."​ ​ ​

[td] Okay, so what do we do? Perseverance isn’t innate; it’s learned. All of us can do it if we train. So, brother, manufacture some pressure and train yourself. Push your limits, physically, mentally, spiritually: climb a tough summit; tackle a hike of many miles; fast for a period of days; turn devices off and embrace quiet and solitude and prayer for an uncomfortable period. Remember, God designed you for perseverance. So, by training, you’ll simply learn what you’re made of (plus you’ll expose the lies of the enemy). It doesn’t take much to learn a whole lot about yourself.​ ​ ​

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[RiverOL]

The Voice That Led Them Out of the Jungle​

Who Do You Trust?​

I was recently reminded of an event I had read about awhile ago. It is truly a remarkable story.

On May 1, 2023, a small aircraft with seven passengers crashed in one of the most remote parts of the world: the Amazon rainforest. The Cessna was flying from one small village to a slightly larger one, hundreds of miles south of Bogota, Colombia.


A Hundred Miles Long
Evidently, the single-engine prop failed in midair, causing a forced meeting with the dense canopy of trees and the jungle’s unforgiving floor. All seven passengers were presumed dead. The odds of survival were minimal. The search area was a hundred miles long and twenty miles wide.

It took Colombian special forces more than two weeks, but they eventually located the crash site. When they did, they were saddened to find three of the seven passengers had perished upon impact but surprised to learn the other four—all children, all siblings ranging from ages thirteen years to eleven months—were nowhere to be found. Not on board and not around the crash site.

How Could They Still Be Alive?​

Colombia stepped up the rescue efforts. The government dispatched 150 soldiers, 40 volunteers, and several rescue dogs. Tiny clues of hope were found: a baby bottle here, small footprints there, used diapers. The children had been raised near the jungle. The older ones knew which plants and bugs to avoid. Even so, they were just kids. How could they still be alive?


Days turned into weeks, and desperation grew. Rescuers dropped boxes of food, water, even whistles into the jungle, hoping these would help sustain the children. But day after day ended in despair. After more than a month of effort, the search crew began to wonder if the children were purposely dodging their help.

Turns out that was the case.

Come Out of Hiding​

More than once, rescuers were within fifty feet of the kids. The children didn’t know if men had come to hurt or help, so they refused the ones who could save them.

The Columbians then came up with a plan.

What could convince the children to come out of hiding? The team got creative. They lowered speakers into the jungle and turned up the volume so that a message could be heard in over a mile in any direction. And then, this detail is key, they played an invitation recorded by the siblings’ beloved grandmother telling them to “stay in one place, the rescue team is here to help.”

On day number forty, all four children—emaciated, insect-bitten, weak, and most of all, afraid—were found. Their grandmother’s voice called them out of the shadows.

They just needed a voice they could trust.​

In the work that I do with men, I see a similar resistance that men have towards Jesus. They fear what they might require of them or where He might lead them. I point out to them this great promise He has made to us: “I am the Lord your God, who teaches you what is best for you, who directs you in the way you should go.” (Isaiah 48:17)

We are told in Joshua 21:45 that not one of God’s promises has ever failed. His voice can always be trusted.

 

[RiverOL]

This Is The Lord’s Table: A Victorious Life​

At the Lord’s Table, we are invited into a sacred sacrament—one that offers transformation, holds profound theological meaning, and provides deeply practical reminders. In a previous post, I mentioned that the Table invites us into a promise of trust. It also reminds us of what true victorious living looks like. This is not the kind of victory heralded by the prosperity gospel, which equates faith with on-demand through declarations and blessings with wealth, comfort, and worldly success. Rather, this is a victory held by Jesus and shaped by the cross: a life marked by surrender, suffering, and unwavering trust in God’s goodness, even during pain and hardship (Philippians 3:10-11; 2 Corinthians 12:9).



This post is part of a new blog series called This Is the Lord’s Table, where I’ll explore how communion is not just a ritual, but a quiet act of resistance—a re-centering in a noisy world, and a sacred reorientation to the Kingdom of God. The first post explored how the Lord’s Table is a promise of trust.

At the Lord’s Table, We Remember Victory​

At the Table, we are reminded that the new covenant is represented by a love that overcomes enemies and persecution. We victoriously remember the promised hope of resurrection after death. At the Table, we are remembering that this is a life rooted not in our strength, but in the sacrificial love of Jesus in which he extends to us. The table is a time to celebrate a victory born through suffering, sealed by death, and gloriously declared in the resurrection (Romans 6:4-5; 1 Peter 2:21-25). In this way, at the Lord’s Table, we remember that this victory has already been won.

When I sit at the Lord’s Table, I face the words of Jesus, who declared, “Take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). Even more, in the resurrection, Jesus overcame death itself (1 Corinthians 15:54-57). This new life—a life of victory over both the world and death—is what God extends to us as Jesus followers who have confessed with our mouths that Jesus is Lord and believed in our hearts that God raised Him from the dead (Romans 10:9). The practice of the Lord’s Table reminds us of this new reality we are learning to live into and live out of.


This means that the Lord’s Table becomes a place of sacred remembrance and hopeful proclamation. We celebrate the sacrifice that freed us from the grip of sin and death, through the New Covenant we receive the Spirit of God who empowers us to live transformed lives, and we are sent out to overcome the world—not by force, but by love, faith, and the enduring power of the resurrection life Jesus has given us (Romans 8:11; 1 John 5:4–5).

The Table Is a Celebration of Victory​

When we gather at the Lord’s Table, we remember that Jesus instituted this practice of the Lord’s Table during a Passover celebration—a meal that has always been a sign of God’s deliverance. Passover reminded the Israelites of how they were liberated from Egypt, saved by the blood of the lamb. In that same spirit, Jesus redefined the moment by offering Himself as the true Lamb of God, a saving act as the sacrificial lamb for those of us lost in our sins and brokenness. We celebrate that God has extended His victory, authority, and Spirit to us. As one rabbi once said of Passover, “To celebrate it is to step into the story.” That’s what we do each time we come to the Table—we step into the story of God’s love that liberates us from the death grip of sin, and we rejoice in how this love is reshaping our love towards life and others.



ADVERTISING

A Constant Reminder of Resurrection​

Since the earliest days of the Church, believers have gathered on Sundays—Resurrection Day—to remember and proclaim the gospel: Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again. To declare this good news victoriously, the early church practiced the Lord’s Table most times that they gathered. When we come to the Table, we don’t just remember the cross—we proclaim Jesus’ victory, the resurrection. We proclaim that death has lost its sting and sin has lost its grip. Jesus tore the prison bars of death away, and now we live as a victorious people, raised to new life. We, too, can overcome sin, the world, and death because of God—God does the work, but we celebrate the spoils of the battle. This is not a militant triumphalism, but a celebration of what Christ has done on our behalf.

We Celebrate Overcoming Power​

As we hold the bread and cup, we proclaim the New Covenant but also the victorious truth that “Up from the grave He arose!” Jesus has promised to drink wine again with us in Heaven’s final restoration. Jesus has gone ahead of us, preparing a place. Now, through belief in Jesus, we are raised with Christ, alive in the Spirit, walking in newness of life. We can go again, because “Up from the grave He arose!” We are no longer defined by the sin that held us or the death that haunted us. We are defined by the One who overcame it all. At the table, we are reminded of who and what truly defines us.

Liberated to Liberate Others​

We are reminded at the Table, this practice is not just for us—it is for the world. In ancient wars, messengers would carry the “gospel”—the good news that victory had been won, and peace was coming. The resurrection is the declaration of God’s deliverance. As we come to the Table, we come as witnesses to a risen Savior, not as mourners of a death, but as proclaimers of victorious new life. At the Table, we declare the truth of John 3:16, and remember that as the people who have been transformed by this story, we are now called to carry the message to others. We find ourselves realigned to the purpose of God’s restorative work at the Lord’s Table, and we remember we are bearers of this good news, called to embody and announce the victory of Christ in our daily lives.

Rooted in a Community of Victory​

Like Passover, Jesus instituted the practice of the Lord’s Table in community. We don’t come to the Table alone. We come together as brothers and sisters in Christ. We sit at the table together in a way that reminds each other that we have a new family, and this family is empowered to remind each other of the victorious hope and Spirit we now live by. In this way, gathered with others, the Table empowers us to keep moving—and help others move—toward the victory Jesus has promised. This shared act roots us in community and reminds us that we’re not only saved from something but also saved for something: to walk together in the resurrected life.

At the Lord’s Table​

We sit down in humility and gratitude, receiving what was accomplished on the cross.
We rise up in joy and boldness, celebrating all that Christ Jesus has done and is still doing.
We look around and see a family formed by grace and grounded in hope.

 

[RiverOL]

[td] Emerging from Isolation​ ​ ​

[td] For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them—Matthew 18:20​ ​ ​

[td] Imagine, for a moment, a man ever isolated, living alone in the mountains, perhaps. Imagine him living a vigorous, adventurous, spiritual life, but lacking community. The knowledge this man would have of God, the knowledge he’d have of himself, would be modest compared to the knowledge he’d have of both, were he to have full access to relationships, friendships, brotherhood. You see, the isolated man may know about God. But, no matter how much he might read and study, he cannot know God. That takes community. We get to know God by seeing his Holy Spirit moving in others. We encounter God, we experience him, we understand him when he works through the love and sacrifice of other people. In brotherhood, we get to show God to one another. And, the more we’re in community with brothers, the deeper our understanding becomes. The isolated man may also know about himself—his talents, his likes, his dislikes. But, he cannot know himself. He cannot know the man God intends him to become. That too takes community. It takes others around him, who know his story, who spend time with him, who watch him, to discern and affirm and call forth things true and eternal in him, things God longs for to emerge. It takes brotherhood to call forth the true man.​ ​ ​

[td] Okay, so what do we do? Confess and repent to God, in prayer. Turn your back on that harsh, judgmental man. Declare that you want to be a different kind of man. Invite God’s training. That’s a bold prayer—so bring a brother (or a few) into the endeavor. Ask him/them to pray for you, speak truth to you, and keep you accountable as God begins to move in your life.​ ​ ​

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[RiverOL]

[td] Trust No One​ ​ ​

[td] The Lord is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts—Psalm 28:7​ ​ ​

[td] The Apostle Paul set a challenge before us: "having put away falsehood, let each one of you speak the truth with his neighbor" (Ephesians 4:25). No small thing, that one. We men have such a hard time with transparency, with vulnerability. "I don’t know you guys that well." "I have a hard time trusting other people." "I don’t know everyone here." These and objections like them surface naturally in men facing the prospect of being transparent and vulnerable with brothers in community. We’ve all said them, in some version or another. But, this approach, of hesitating and waiting to open up, waiting to tell our brothers what’s really going on, what we’re afraid of, what we’re struggling with, until we have complete trust of the men we’re opening up to, is foolish and based upon misplaced trust. You see, we can trust no man completely. All "have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23). So, waiting for complete trust means waiting for something that’ll never happen. We’re all broken, capable of wickedness even toward those we love most. God, however . . . God is not. So, in him and in him only, brother, should we put our trust (Psalm 118:8). He calls us to be transparent, vulnerable with others, so we must. Now, it might not always go well (at least from our perspectives). That’s okay. It’ll go well from God’s perspective—our obedience to him always does. And, he knows better than we.​ ​ ​

[td] Okay, so what do we do? Next time you meet with a brother or two or three, look around. Which of them do you trust more than God? In that moment, tell yourself: "I trust God. So, I know what I must do" No more lies. No more pretending. No more posturing.​ ​ ​

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[RiverOL]

How​

Fight For Peace




But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace

James 3: 17-18








“I know that every good and excellent thing in the world stands moment by moment on the razor-edge of danger and must be fought for…”
Thornton Wilder



When we consider making peace with someone, what thoughts rise to the surface? Often it’s a painful mix of specific tense, disagreeable memories lingering in our minds and those still emotionally charged exchanges that we recall first. Unconsciously, we stiffen. Something inside of us resists the notion that it just may be our responsibility to take the lead and seek another’s pardon. No doubt about it, going after peace when it’s been misplaced is a gutsy, courageous endeavor. It’s also a journey to be tread with great forethought and care. But, oh, so needed and rarely achieved without some personal sacrifice.

We Have To Fight For Peace​

But there’s another type of peace that gets pushed aside and ignored. This version of peace not only requires internal fortitude, it comes part and parcel with a risk the majority of people are unwilling to take. Possible rejection. Loss of relationship. Misunderstanding. Turn the table accusation. Even so, this formidable peace is not up for debate. The peacemaking process is essential, foundational and offers mutual protection on many levels. Yes, when required, this kind of peace can even save lives.

Relational Restoration Is Possible​

Some might term it intervention; others might recognize this proactive process as restoration. Whatever the term, interceding on another’s behalf and for their long-term welfare is an act of truest friendship. It is a robust and practical way to demonstrate genuine care and every person needs at least one other individual who they know will be brave enough to take on this role of rescue when necessary.

Unfortunately, people mistakenly assume that peace is an entity to be had at any price (that it is the end goal), but it just isn’t so. This feeble definition is shortsighted at best. To assume the attitude that simply keeping quiet over a difficult (destructive) matter is the most caring route to take, just does not cut it. So what does real peacemaking look like when someone you care for is addicted to drugs, alcohol, over-spending, career obsession, etc…?



We Must Learn To Protect And Nurture Relationships
According to author of the book The Peacemaker, Ken Sande, peacemakers see the long view of another’s damaging actions and attitudes and must be willing to take several proactive steps to offer a healthier way. Sande writes that peacemaking includes speaking conversationally with someone by “encouraging self-control, asking questions, clarifying facts and offering tangible help.” The purpose is always to draw a person back from a place of danger. This is the kind of peacemaking that must be fought for, protected and nurtured. Let’s face it. We all need others to help us make peace with those things we are unable to either let go of – or take hold of – on our own. Life can be a battle…let’s fight for each other…peaceably.



Fighting For Peace

• Define the term peace. Recognize that being peaceable often means gentle confrontation that only wants what is best for another person.
• Define the long-term goal of peace. Realize that working through difficult personal issues frequently takes time and during that “in-between” period, necessary tensions might be part of the process.
• Define what it looks like to be both a peacemaker and the person on the receiving end of someone else’s efforts at making peace. Learn to act as the initiator of peace and learn to humbly accept the position of being recipient of another’s instruction.

 

[RiverOL]

This Is the Lord’s Table: A Sacred Pause for Examination​

The Lord’s Table is a powerful opportunity to examine ourselves in a way that moves us towards repentance and confession, and ultimately to greater spiritual transformation and infilling of the Spirit. As we come to the Table, we envision Jesus at the head, inviting us in. There’s a holy pause as we take our seat, like the stillness that falls when we begin to pray, “Our Father.” In that moment, we’re reminded that we’re standing on sacred ground. In those moments, we are aware of our bruises and brokenness.

God’s holiness does not share space, and we quickly examine the shadows of our lives to see what we have brought with us. In a world full of noise, demands, and constant motion, we unconsciously pick up sin, unforgiveness, anxiety, depression, failure, shame, and other sticky brokenness. The Lord’s Table invites us to slow down, remember, and reflect. It’s a sacred space where we step back into the story of God and allow ourselves to be searched, shaped, and strengthened by what the Holy Spirit brings to light in our lives as we gather together. We find ourselves praying for our forgiveness, and releasing forgiveness to others that we have kept from experiencing God’s goodness and liberation.


This is the Lord’s Table Series
This post is part of a blog series called This Is the Lord’s Table, exploring how the practice and discipline of communion or the Lord’s Table is not just a church ritual and tradition, it is also a quiet act of resistance and trasnformation that recenters us in a chaotic and noisy world, it radically realigns us to the Kingdom of God, and reconciles us back to the heart of the Father.

When we practice the Lord’s Table, we surrender ourselves more fully to the work of the Holy Spirit and take part in a discipling act. The first post in this series explored how the Lord’s Table is a promise of trust. Then, the second post of this series looked at how the Lord’s Table is a reminder of the victorious life. This morning, we look at how the Lord’s Table is a powerful opportunity to examine ourselves in a way that moves us towards repentance and confession, and ultimately to greater spiritual transformation and infilling of the Spirit.

Self-Examination at the Table​

Every time we gather at the Lord’s Table, we are invited to take inventory of our hearts and lives. Just as those who celebrated the Passover would retell the story and enter its narrative, becoming freshly aware of their dependence on God, we too are called to remember—and realign. At that Passover meal that birthed the Lord’s Table, as Jesus shared the tradition with His disciples, He revealed that betrayal was near. And in that sacred moment, each of them began to examine themselves, asking if the betrayal could be found within their own hearts.

So it is with us. Every time we come to the Table, we re-enter the story of that first communion. We look inward. We ask: What brokenness and betrayal have I brought with me? What sins, known or unknown, cling to me? At the Table, forgiveness is not withheld—it is extended and waiting. Confession rises. Repentance stirs. And as we surrender again to God, we open ourselves ultimately to greater spiritual transformation and infilling of the Spirit. This sacred rhythm invites a beautiful spiritual transformation—a filling of the Spirit, a re-centering of our hearts.

As we approach the Table, we echo the words of David in Psalm 139: “Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” At the Table, we are not trying to impress. We are not pretending to have it all together. Instead, we return to the one who welcomes us just as we are and meets us with grace.

Paul’s Call to Self-Examination ​

Paul understood the importance of examining ourselves before approaching the Lord’s Table. In 1 Corinthians 11:28, he exhorts the church in Corinth—a community struggling with division and disorder—saying, “Everyone ought to examine themselves before they eat of the bread and drink from the cup.” In this prophetic challenge, Paul warns them not to come to the Table in an unworthy manner or with careless hearts. The Lord’s Table is not just a ritual; it is a sacred moment of reflection, one that carries real spiritual impact.

The Didache, an early Christian teaching, instructed believers to confess their disunity before coming to the Table. They knew that reconciliation is part of worship.

If we approach it lightly—unaware of the burdens, sins, or unresolved tensions we carry—we risk bringing judgment upon ourselves. Paul urges us to look inward and to consider what anxieties, sins, or relational fractures we may be bringing with us. This isn’t about perfection, but about honesty.

Jesus taught the same principle. In Matthew 5:23–24, He tells His listeners that if you’re offering a gift at the altar and remember someone has something against you, stop. Go and be reconciled first. Whether it’s forgiveness you need to extend or receive, reconciliation matters to God. It’s clear: before we draw near to God, we are called to make things right with one another.

At the Lord’s Table: What Story Are We Stepping Into?​

One rabbi describes Passover as stepping into the story personally—rejoicing as though we ourselves walked out of Egypt. In the same way, the practice of communion or the Lord’s Table invites us to do the same. The Lord’s Table is rooted in the Passover—where God’s people remembered His faithfulness in delivering them from slavery. Jesus reimagined that ancient meal, proclaiming himself as the fulfillment of God’s provision.

At the Lord’s Table, we ask ourselves, are we entering the story of God’s faithfulness with open hearts? Do we remember that we, too, have been rescued—freed from sin and shame?

There Are Some Focused Moments of Self-Examination​

The Table is not just personal—it is deeply communal. We are one body in Christ. Paul warns against division and pride; the early church shared communion with a heart of humility and unity. At the Lord’s Table, we ask ourselves about what divides us from one another? We examine if there are unspoken divides between me and others in the body of Christ. At this moment, we ask if I am willing to confess where pride, bitterness, or comparison have crept in?


In Mark 14:12-28, Jesus tells his disciples to prepare the meal, but He had already arranged the details. The man, the room, the plan—it was all in motion before they even began. In reflecting on this, we examine to see where God has already gone ahead of us. We consider whether we truly trust that God is already working ahead of us. Approaching the table, we ask if we can rest in the truth that He’s making a way, even when I don’t see it?

As the disciples gathered, they brought with them expectations, distractions, and worries. Questions swirled about who would prepare the meal and what was coming next. We come to the table with many questions swirling, and in examining ourselves at the table, we ask about what we are carrying to the table. We ask ourselves, “What expectations or anxieties am I bringing with me today?” We examine ourselves so we can set down our expectations and anxieties, and be fully present with Jesus.

What Am I Being Asked to Examine?​

In the safety of the upper room, Jesus invites reflection among his disciples. He doesn’t call anyone out by name. But he gives everyone space to examine their hearts. That continues today. The Holy Spirit knocks on our hearts and minds as we approach the table, and invites us to reflect among our brothers and sisters. As we approach the Lord’s Table, are we willing to reflect on our loyalty and motives? We think about where we have denied, avoided, or abandoned what Jesus has asked of us. When you approach the Lord’s Table, it is important to ask, “What am I being asked to examine?

Will I Let God Search Me, at the Lord’s Table?​

It is here we ask, Who am I becoming? The Table holds our past, present, and future. It whispers:

This is who you were. This is who you are. This is who you are becoming. Will you embrace the Kingdom of God, which is at hand, by repenting and believing the good news? At the core of this practice, as we confess, we are reminded this is who God was, is, and always will be. The Lord’s Table is a powerful opportunity to examine ourselves in a way that moves us towards repentance and confession, and ultimately to greater spiritual transformation and infilling of the Spirit.

The more we practice the Lord’s Table, the more we examine ourselves, and the more we say yes to Jesus.

 

[RiverOL]

When the Center Holds: A Tribute to My Father’s Legacy​

Thankful That the Center Held

I have seen the end, and in the end, the center holds.​

Dad was breathing every six seconds or so, Victorian novels had prepared me for the rattle, no book for the sound. Dad, dear old Dad, Daddy, the guy we could ask because he would know, struggled mightily for air.


I did not know what to say. I still do not know what to say, but one thing I said caused his eye to brighten a last time: “Dad. Your work is done. We will take care of Mom and everything else that is left to do. You can go now.”

Or something like this. And the spirit left his body. Dad could only not live, I think, when he knew all was well as it could be. This last term, in his own troubles, he gave me very wise advice and steadied me, but he was done.

The holiday came.

Over the last little bit, a very short time counted in days, Dad began to say he wanted to go be with Jesus. He loved living, his family, and his work, so this was as final as any doctor’s outlook. The spirit was no longer willing and the flesh was very weak.

This gentleman, this rock, was finally worn out.

As young men, my brother and I had tried to list his faults, his sins of commission, and came up with nothing. We went to Mom and she smiled her Socratic smile and said: “Frustrating, isn’t it?” I once asked Dad’s mother, Granny, if he had ever lied and she said: “Not that I know of.”


And not that I know of either.

Dad was not ambitious, did not long for greatness, and yet he achieved greatness. Lewis Dayton Reynolds was steady, reliable, puckish, loyal, and honest. He had little or no vanity. Born legally blind in a culture that encouraged my Papaw and Granny to send him to a home for the blind, they refused and raised him in the local public schools best they could. He managed to become the first of our family in three hundred years to graduate high school, college, and graduate school. His only accommodation was his own father reading to him in college when he could not see well enough to read.

He graduated Magna Cum Laude.

He never put up his diplomas and so I just learned that he made the national freshman honor society in university. Honors did not move him, but the Holy Spirit always could trust him.

He could be counted on, because he did not want anything but the truth and in faith, he saw that Truth. He faced his doubts, but he never wavered in his love of the truth. He got the job done when others wanted to talk about doing something: loyally, calmly, as unmoved as the grand West Virginia hills he loved.


My brother pointed out that dreadful and beautiful day (June 26) when he died that now he can see. His blindness is done.

He can see perfectly now, this man who could see better than the rest of us even impaired. The spirit was insightful even when the flesh was weak.

Dad’s last advice to me was “Be thankful. I am thankful.” This kindness was tempered by resolve. He also told me in one last bit of correction: “No more Mr. Nice Guy.”

OK Dad.

Dad was kind, but never nice. He was merciful, but not a softy, because goodness and truth mattered to him. Dad for over eighty-seven years had battled institutional racism, stubborn boards, and intellectual atrophy. He always was looking for God and so kept pursuing the truth right into the Orthodox Church. . . giving up the ordination he prized to do so.

He was a great man, a central man. Dayton Reynolds, Sub-Deacon Elias, loved truth tempered with mercy.

I was there at the end and the center held. He was the man he had been to the end, if a bit more querulous!


So now those of us who feel unfit must move to the center. We must endure his going hence, because we would not keep him as he was in the end. His work was done. Our own is beginning as those who can not be moved save by the Spirit of Truth.

We are thankful that the dead will live again. We are thankful that his work continues in the school and colleges he prayed over with great faith and gave wise advice to the last year of his life. We are thankful that center held.

We ask for God’s grace to endure our own time at the center with living in truth tempered by mercy.

I will do as I can Dad. Thankful for you. Pray for me.