Category: <span>Devotional</span>

Proverbs 25:28

“Like a city whose walls are broken through is a person who lacks self-control.”

Have you ever read any of the Pigeon books? Mo Willems’ popular children’s book series includes titles such as Don’t Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late and The Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog. The series is popular for a reason. They’re original and funny and so much fun to read aloud together. They’re all wonderful, but if we had to choose a favorite it would probably be Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus

The book starts with the bus driver addressing the reader. He needs to step away from his bus for a few minutes, would we mind keeping an eye on it? He is grateful for our help and offers only one specific instruction: Don’t let the Pigeon drive the bus. Turn the page, enter the Pigeon. He spends the whole book trying different tactics to convince us that he is trustworthy and we should let him drive the bus. We can all imagine, though, what would happen if we did. So we resist, no matter how hard it is, until the bus driver comes back.

We use this simple story when we are helping our kids learn to handle their feelings. When emotions run high and they are losing control, we remind them: 

Don’t let the feelings drive the bus. 

Even as adults, I think we all need this reminder sometimes. We surrender control and let our feelings steer our actions. Fear is one of the worst culprits when it comes to grabbing the wheel and taking over. Alternatively, we attempt to kick our emotions off the bus entirely, pretending they aren’t a part of us and we can leave them on the sidewalk when we drive away. This is actually another way of letting our feelings control us – that we spend tremendous focus and energy on acting as though they’re not there. When we try to kick the feelings to the curb, it is still our emotions that are dictating our actions. 

Feelings are a part of us and they have every right to be on the bus. We can and should interact with them, for they have much to teach us and a story to tell that we need to hear. But letting them drive the bus is asking for trouble, sort of like letting an excitable cartoon pigeon take a turn behind the wheel.

The Bible has plenty to say about self-control. I love this verse from Proverbs because the image of broken city walls fits in with my mental picture of an out-of-control bus being driven by an unqualified driver. Obviously the original text has nothing to do with buses, and more to do with weakened defenses, but I think they are both true. Our defenses are weakened due to the damage caused when we lack self-control. 

Self-control is a fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:23). It is something that the Spirit grows in us, which means that ultimately it should be the Holy Spirit who is driving the bus. 

I am an inexperienced driver when it comes to driving our RV. I’m working on learning, but I know my limits. On narrow or steep mountain roads, on windy days, and in city traffic, I need to let Staffan drive. It would be silly – if not dangerous – to keep the more experienced driver in the passenger seat while I struggle through a situation that I am not equipped to handle. 

In the same way, it is possible to invite the Holy Spirit into our lives (to get on the bus), but not to give him control (let him drive). He will patiently sit in the passenger seat if we ask him to, while the loud voices of our fears demand to drive. Life is seldom a wide, flat, straight highway that’s easy to drive on, but 2020 feels like a winding road beside a cliff, with no guardrail, on a blustery day, with a lot of traffic. We cannot make the mistake of getting our driver and passengers mixed up.

Fear will drive us off the cliff. The Holy Spirit is a calm, confident, experienced driver who knows the road well. 

So who’s driving the bus?

Moment of Beauty

If you haven’t heard the story of Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus, or if it’s been a while since you heard it, enjoy this read aloud version:

Devotional

Ecclesiastes 7:10

“Do not say, ‘Why were the old days better than these?’ For it is not wise to ask such questions.”

One tradition that we have been able to maintain pretty well despite the pandemic is what our family calls “pizza picnic”. The name comes from the way the tradition started, back when we had an apartment with a normal-sized living room. On family movie night, we would make our own pizza and then move the coffee table and spread a blanket on the living room floor to eat pizza while watching a movie. In our RV, there isn’t floor space so it isn’t really a picnic anymore, and making our own pizza is a little more complicated in our little kitchen, so we’ve switched to frozen pizzas. But the name is the same and we enjoy this time together about once a week. 

Recently, many of the movies we’ve chosen to watch together have been childhood classic that Staffan and I loved as kids. My latest choice: Bedknobs and Broomsticks. As the opening credits rolled and the music began, I found myself a little teary-eyed as I hummed along. Scene followed scene, long-forgotten and yet still so familiar. I was surprised by how emotional I was while watching. Old memories mixed with the new ones forming: of my 3-year-old jumping up and down and laughing, his face covered with pizza sauce, the older two trying to learn the magic words that brought everything to life. It was a happy family moment that was also steeped in nostalgia. 

Nostalgia is a tricky thing. It is wonderful, but sometimes sad, to revisit treasured memories and to replay moments with loved ones, especially those who we no longer have with us. Even if we’re not flipping through old photos to seek it out, nostalgia can sneak up on us in a familiar scent or the notes of a song. 

It has been fun to watch these old movies and talk about life before the internet and cell phones and Instant Pots. In many ways, it seems like a simpler time. But in other ways, it seems much more complicated. That is because both are true. 

Most of the changes that come with time are neither good nor bad. They are simply different. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that they are often a healthy mix of good and bad, so that it is possible to see them either way, depending on which side you choose to look at. Cell phones are not always great for teenagers, but neither was sitting on the bench outside my middle school for an hour wondering if my mom got the “let it ring twice then hang up” signal I sent from the pay phone. 

Change seems to happen faster and faster, and 2020 will probably spark long-term changes that we haven’t even realized yet. I’ve read theories that shaking hands will disappear as a polite gesture of greeting. Some cities are brainstorming ways to re-imagine their methods of law enforcement. Churches have created online worship opportunities that they are likely to continue even after the crisis has passed and we return to corporate worship in person. If any or all of these things have you wringing your hands with anxiety, wondering “what’s happening in this world,” it’s time to pause. Ask yourself what fears are causing this reaction, and if it was truly better “before” or if it’s simply uncomfortable because it’s new and different. What is at the root of these fears? I’m not suggesting there is no cause for concern, but simply that it is very important that we check our gut reactions and unrecognized fears.

These fears can be used to divide and weaken us. We can’t avoid confronting them and wrestling with them. In this election year, politicians will work hard to convince us that it was better before and who we should blame for it being worse now. Churches will face conflict over whether or not online services should be continued and how this new trend affects things like baptism and communion in their particular theological traditions. 

We tend to see the past through tinted glasses. Our minds naturally filter out harsh details and painful moments. In most memories, negative emotions are diminished and positive amplified. This is as it should be. It’s beautiful to look back and focus on the good things, learning from the hard things without getting stuck in those negative feelings. It is healthy and necessary to filter the past this way. But it can also become dangerous if it leads us to try to return to that rosy, well-filtered time (which never really existed) rather than living in the present and planning for the future. 

Wisdom allows us to treasure our memories while also remembering that time only moves in one direction. We do not have to live in fear of change or fear of the future. And as long as we can maintain this perspective, we can watch old movies and enjoy nostalgia to our hearts’ content.

Devotional

In The Empire Strikes Back (1980), the second of George Lucas´ sci-fi original Star Wars trilogy, hero Luke Skywalker (played by Mark Hamill) seeks out former Jedi master Yoda. Luke wants to train to be a Jedi, in order to meet and defeat the evil character Darth Vader.

Besides intense physical training, the young Luke Skywalker must also undertake the task of facing his innermost and deepest fears ̶ a task he turns out not to be quite ready for in the movie.

When entering a foggy and mystical place in the swamp in which the training takes place, even though he senses darkness and death as he nears the cave, Luke nevertheless finds himself being lured into the dark and unknown.

On his way into the unknown, Luke reaches out to grab his light saber (a kind of laser sword), to be able to defend himself if necessary. At that moment, master Yoda speaks out and says: “Your weapons. You won’t be needing them.”

Luke meets Yoda’s look and asks, “What will I find in there?”

Yoda replies, “Only what you take with you.”

Luke buckles his weapons belt around his waist. Then, he enters the dark and unknown.

Well inside the cave, Luke soon finds himself grabbing after his light saber, when he finds himself standing face to face with his worst enemy ̶ Darth Vader. Instinctively, Luke draws his light saber, and goes to attack.

After a short exchange of fencing, Luke decapitates his worst enemy, and when he looks at the decapitated head on the ground, he is perplexed, as the face he sees behind the black helmet and mask, is his own.

When Yoda debriefs Luke after his cave experience, he explains to his young apprentice that his experience reveals Luke’s innermost fears. “Fear,” says Yoda, “is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.”

When fear sets in, we lose control of our rational faculties. Our brains are programmed towards self-preservation when we experience that we are threatened, and the problem with our brains is that they cannot separate fact from fiction. A threat is a threat, and we act instinctively upon it. Or, at least that is one of two options for how to respond.

In their ground breaking research on behavioral economics, Daniel Kahneman and his deceased colleague Amos Tversky (†1996) found that the brain seems to have a two-system model for functioning. For the sake of simplicity, they called them system 1 and system 2. (To learn about the systems in more detail, I highly recommend Daniel Kahneman’s book Think fast, and slow, in which he explains in detail how the two systems functions and relate to one another.)

In short, system 1 is instinctive and reacts without blinking or thinking. This is the instinctive and intuitive system that makes us jump away from a car almost running us over in the street. System 2 is the reasoning system that tells us that the cars driving past us closely by the crosswalk are not going to hit us, and therefore makes us feel safe ̶ despite the fact that it could be a dangerous (even potentially lethal) situation.

The thing is that we need both systems to function properly in our everyday life, but the trick is that we sometimes ̶ more often then we like to admit ̶ use the wrong system depending on the situation ̶ a problem that causes us to fight bogeys that only are products of our own mind, rather then real threats. This is the reason why fear can get the upper hand of us ̶ like in the opening example with Luke Skywalker. His biggest fear was the darkness within himself, and that is the reason why he found his own face behind the helmet of Darth Vader ̶ the person who Luke thought he feared the most. This is the reason why Yoda was right when he told Luke that he would find that which he carried with himself inside the dark cave. In Luke’s case, it was system 1 that made him react instinctively and cut down his opponent. It was not until he later analyzed the situation using system 2 that he saw the situation in a more sober and clear way ̶ a way that showed that he could have thought, felt, and acted differently. And all this because of fear.

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself”

During the period after WWII, an intercultural fear kicked in as a result of the Cold War. Author Philip Yancey tells a story of how fear made him and his brother learn Chinese and Russian in the event of a full scale war where they would have to communicate with their enemy in order to save their own lives (The story is told by Philip Yancey in his book The Jesus I never knew). Fear was commonplace at that time, alongside the optimism that the world would now prosper in the aftermath of two World Wars.

During that tense yet exciting time, many people recalled the inspiring words of the late President Franklin D. Roosevelt, spoken to a nation reeling from the First World War and the hardships of the Great Depression. “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Once again, we need to return to his words during dark and uncertain times. Because, even though the world is, in general a much safer place for the majority of the world’s population in the west, fear still seems to cheat us ̶ especially when it comes to the global outbreak of Covid-19.

I start with admitting that we must all remain humble at this point. I am writing as a Swedish citizen, living in a country that has taken its fair share in international criticism when it comes to strategies and governmental choices of coping with Covid-19. I do not agree with everything that has taken place, but I cannot at the same time close my eyes to the fact that fear seems to be the motor behind much of the critique, rather then open-mindedness.

After all, why did the Swedes buy up all the toilet paper in the stores when the pandemic hit Sweden? Are all Swedes full of crap? (pun intended)

Or why did American gun sales skyrocket during the same period that Covid-19 got a foothold and spread in the US? Do all Americans want to get a shot at someone?

Let’s leave aside the answers to these questions for now. They are interesting in themselves, but the reason I asked that was to flesh out the more pertinent issue: the things we turn to in order to feel certain in times of uncertainty.

And the answer to these questions are to my mind quite simple: The system breakdown that made us all act this irrational, was our mistake of using system 1 for a situation that requires system 2 to respond properly. Fear got the upper hand on most of us, and like Luke, our deepest fears discover where our hope truly is anchored.

Where is your heartWhere is your fear?

In his Large Catechism (found in The Book of Concord), Martin Luther (1483-1546) writes the following words to his readers of how the first of the Ten Commandments should be understood.

What does it mean to have a god? or, what is God? Answer: A god means that from which we are to expect all good and to which we are to take refuge in all distress, so that to have a God is nothing else than to trust and believe Him from the [whole] heart; as I have often said that the confidence and faith of the heart alone make both God and an idol. If your faith and trust be right, then is your god also true; and, on the other hand, if your trust be false and wrong, then you have not the true God; for these two belong together, faith and God. That now, I say, upon which you set your heart and put your trust is properly your god.

To have a God is to have someone (or something) in which one invests all ones hopes and trusts. In this sense, very few people are to be regarded as atheists. We all trust something and/or someone—even if we do not refer to this someone as God.

In the case of Covid-19, many people bought up supplies of food (which makes sense), but a great deal more irrational purchases were made too—like toilet paper and guns. What these events reveal to us is our collective unconscious way of acting in accordance with the mass—without asking critical and yet necessary questions in able to respond rationally and properly. Instead of acting out of fear, we as Christians should have asked ourselves: Where is my heart located at this moment? Indeed, it is no coincidence that the young man who turns to Jesus with the question of how to gain eternal life, walks away with a heavy heart when he finds out that he has to let go of the possessions that are possessing his heart (Matt 19:16-22).

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus underlines this by telling his listeners not to store treasures here on earth, but rather in heaven (Matt 6:19-22).

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.  But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. (NIV)

To put it more bluntly: Who do you trust when push comes to shove? Who do you and I turn to for certainty in an uncertain time like this? We seem to forget that fear has a crippling effect on us as both individuals and collectively, and as with every other threat to our existence, we risk acting in such a way that the cure is worse than the disease. And not just that. For fear does not only confine our way of acting, it also confines our way of thinking and speaking. This is the reason why terrorism is such an insidious business. You see, it is not the terrorist acts themselves as much as the fear of the potential acts that is the goal for the terrorist. If you and I are instilled with fear, the terrorist has already won. This does not mean that we should act foolish in defiance, but we must pay attention to the gap between fear and fact. If system 2 is given precedence over system 1, chances are much greater that we spot which threat is real and which threat is not.

In Ephesians 6:12, Apostle Paul writes, “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

The classical Christian doctrine of the fall (see Gen 3), states that the whole of creation is fallen. The fall affects us all, and even if we do not yet know how this is going to play out, we know that the struggle is a reality to both mind and matter. In our bodies, the fight is currently being fought in the bodies of the hundreds of thousands of people who are fighting for their survival, as well as the hundreds of thousands of medical staff who are fighting alongside them. Their battlefields are the hospitals, laboratories, and homes, and they are indeed heroes that deserve our gratitude and support in both action and prayer. (Remember that a prayer for your doctor or nurse is just as important as a prayer for your pastor).

In our minds, the fight is over whether or not fear will get the upper hand of us—both as individuals and collectively. After all, if system 2 is allowed to inform us, it can remind us that we live in a time in history which has never been more safe than ours–despite the latest pandemic of Covid-19. (See for example Hans Roslings book Factfulness–Ten Reasons We’re Wrong About The World–And Why Things Are Better Than You Think for a system 2, fact-based assessment of the present situation in the world). And let the words of former President Roosevelt linger in your mind as you envision the current situation of the world: “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”

Pray the fear away

A couple of weeks ago, I made a quick stop at the local grocery store to buy lunch. As I was exiting the store using the self-checkout line, I overheard the following conversation taking place by the regular register behind me:

An older woman raising her voice to two young Muslim teenage girls standing close to her in line:

Back up! Stand behind the yellow line! The yellow line!

Initially, the two young teenage girls responded the way teenagers usually do at that age—by listening to what is said, while at the same time signaling a subtle “we-hear-what-you-say-and-don’t-care-what-you-say”-attitude, which I noticed as I turned around to see their reactions to the woman’s aggressive tone.

The older woman continued by saying:

You will show respect! Stand behind the yellow line and keep the distance!

By this point, the old lady gained some support from the cashier behind the plastic shield, concurring with a mild tone that the teenage girls should show respect to the old woman by backing up and stand behind the yellow tape that marked the recommended 6 feet for social distancing.

The two girls backed up a bit, but at the same time one of them raised her voice in opposition to the tone of the old woman:

You don´t talk to me like that! If you want respect, then you show me respect by talking to me in a respectful manner! I´m not listening to you!

The tone of the conversation escalated, and they exchanged requests for respect back and forth for a while—until the old woman finally packed her groceries and left. The young girls silently paid for their groceries and left too.

I shared this story because it is a perfect example of the silent enemy which has emerged in the wake of Covid-19—the enemy of fear.

No doubt, the old woman at the grocery store acted out of genuine fear—a fear of contracting Covid-19. But in the end, what it all boils down to, is the fear of loss of life; the fear of death. The woman was in a risk category because of her old age, and like many older people, she may have had some sort of underlying condition, which put her even more at risk if she were to contract Covid-19. Even though it was a verbal expression of the “fight-or-flight” response to threat and fear, it was nevertheless her way of trying to get control of the situation by forcing others to act according to government directions of social distancing to prevent spreading and/or contracting Covid-19.

Even though her fear may have been justified, her behavior towards the two young teenage girls in the line was not—even if she was right in principle. Whence my understanding for both the old woman’s action as well as the two young teenagers’ response.

As the situation calmed, I found myself avoiding a potential interference of the verbal exchange which took place behind my back. Instead, I did what I think is our task to do whenever we encounter that other people’s fear comes near: pray the fear away. That is the most powerful way to keep the fear at bay.

Devotional

Luke 2:46

“After three days they found him (Jesus) in the temple courts, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions.” 

Did you ever have a teacher that discouraged students from asking questions? It seems antithetical to the profession of teaching, so I hope not. Chances are, though, there was someone who came to your mind. 

I had a math teacher in high school – let’s call him Mr. A. – who literally had each of his lessons scripted and he read them to us each day. It was hard to get his attention to ask a question, and doing so irritated him, presumably because the scripts were carefully timed to the length of a class period. When someone asked a question, though, he would return to that part of the script and re-read it. I’ll never forget the day I told him that I still didn’t understand and asked if he could explain it a different way. His face turned a strange shade of purple and a vein started bulging on his head. He called me impudent and demanded I show more respect. As typical teenagers, we found his reaction hilarious and I got my 15 minutes of high school fame for having caused it. Thank goodness my parents were good at math, though, or I’d have been completely lost.

Most of us know that asking questions is how we learn. As exhausting as they can be, we instinctively realize that the incessant questions of children, especially young children, are important for helping them understand the world around them. Yet something happens along the way, and for some reason the same behavior that causes a child to be labeled as bright and inquisitive causes an adult to be labeled as subversive, disloyal, or even dangerous.

This seems to be especially true in some subcultures, and sadly the Church is often among those that most discourage questions. While I see trends that give me hope that this might be shifting, there is still a significant portion of Christianity that seems to find questions threatening. Especially if they’re not the “right kind” of questions.

Friends, we have nothing to fear from questions. 

If we follow Jesus’ model, asking questions is both an effective way to learn and an effective way to teach. In Luke 2, when his parents find 12-year-old Jesus in the temple, he is listening and asking questions. If the Son of God had questions, it’s very reasonable that we have a few as well. Later on, Jesus also used well-timed and clever questions to help others understand truths on a deeper level than simply explaining them. Check out Luke 7:42 for one clear example among many.

Scripture is full of examples of prominent people who all questioned God in different ways, and none of them managed to topple God off his throne or shake the foundations of his kingdom. In fact, they were usually met with patience and, when appropriate, answers. Even when God refused to answer directly, he never condemned the question or the asker. 

If God isn’t afraid of questions then we shouldn’t be either. We’re not reflecting him well when we meet honest questions with pat, “scripted” answers or passive-aggressive judgment. Our intentions may be to defend God, but the result is often that we widen the gap between God and a child of his that he loves. We would do well to remember that Jesus encourages us to ask, seek, and knock (Matt 7:7). 

When we encounter hostility, whether related to our faith or our opinions on current issues, asking questions is a disarming way of learning about someone else’s position, making sure that person feels seen and heard, and planting gentle seeds of another way of thinking. 

Like the sharks in Finding Nemo, who had to learn that, “Fish are friends, not food,” we also need to learn that:

Moment of Beauty

I recently discovered this lovely poem by Rudyard Kipling that inspired some of these reflections about the value of questions. 

I Keep Six Honest Serving Men

I keep six honest serving-men
 (They taught me all I knew);
Their names are What and Why and When
  And How and Where and Who.
I send them over land and sea,
  I send them east and west;
But after they have worked for me,
  I give them all a rest.

I let them rest from nine till five,
  For I am busy then,
As well as breakfast, lunch, and tea,
  For they are hungry men.
But different folk have different views;
  I know a person small
She keeps ten million serving-men,
  Who get no rest at all!
She sends em abroad on her own affairs,
  From the second she opens her eyes
One million Hows, Two million Wheres,
  And seven million Whys!

Devotional