Feeding Angels or Dragons

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church. Sabbath, January 9, 2016

Sunday morning I pulled on my snowshoes and headed up the Palisades Trail. There was about a foot and a half of snow, but for the first couple of miles the trail was nicely trampled so I didn't sink much. But there were obstacles. There was blow down on the trail, large trees, too big to step over. In places the weight of snow had bent brush and vine maples into and across the trail. Navigating these obstacles was tricky with snow shoes on my feet. It was cold.

I tramped up and up. It was slow going—a lot slower than I had planned on. I usually do this trail in shorts and running shoes. Carrying a pack and wearing boots and snow shoes made for a very different experience. After a couple of miles, I came to the end of the trampled track. I could still make out the trail beneath the blanket of snow but my pace was even slower in the soft snow. Another mile or so and suddenly I could no longer see the course of the trail. I thought I knew the way, but I could not see even the slightest hint of the trail. The area around me was forest, with not a single landmark visible. As I had climbed the air had become even colder. I had not bothered to bring a map or compass since I know the trail so well. I hesitated. I wanted to make it to the next overlook which was probably about a mile away, if I was where I thought I was, but without at least a hint of trail, I worried about getting lost. Snow was falling and potentially covering my tracks I decided it was time to turn around.

That was a smart decision.

Then I made another smart decision. I found a log, knocked the snow off, spread my pad and sat down for the sweetest part of the trip. Lunch! I pulled out my stove and heated water for hot chocolate. I pulled out a sandwich—Havarti cheese on Bonnie's homemade bread. Yum. Even with wind howling and snow swirling, the hot chocolate and my sandwich were heaven.

One of the various obvious facts about food is that it is good to eat it with some regularity, especially when you're engaged in strenuous activity. On ordinary days, when I'm riding around in my car, working on the computer, talking on the phone, visiting with people, food can seem optional. I skip meals and scarcely notice. I can go all day without eating. No problem. Eventually, it will catch up with me, of course. Sooner or later I'll get around to eating, but it's not critical. I can keep functioning on the memory of eating.

But when I'm engaged in strenuous activity, when I'm plowing up a mountain trail on snow shoes, when I'm burning miles running, eating regularly is absolutely essential. If I don't I will experience the embarrassment of collapse. Or slowness.

I remember one time hiking with a friend in the desert. It was getting late. The sun had already set, but there was still some light and we were pushing along a dry wash with a very sandy bottom. The soft sand made progress difficult. My pack felt like it weighed a hundred pounds and getting heavier. My friend, Kevin, got farther and farther ahead. I couldn't understand it. Usually I'm faster than he is. But this evening no matter how hard I tried, I just went slower and slower and slower. Then suddenly the light bulb came on. It was six hours since lunch. Back in those days I had not learned to eat on the trail. So it had been six hours since I had anything to eat. Lunch had been lentils. It had tasted good at the time. But it was long gone. My body was informing me that without food it was not going to keep hiking.

I finally shouted to Kevin. He came back. I apologized and explained I had to eat. We dropped our packs.

That's the way it is with food. Sometimes you just have to do it.

And if you're attempting some major physical activity, you're REALLY going to have to do it. And if you do, it will be a very lovely experience. After eating lunch sitting in the snow on Sunday, I headed back down the mountain. With food in my belly and gravity on my side, I jogged when the trail was smooth and clear enough. I felt almost like a bird.

That's the joy of eating regularly.

Which brings us to spiritual life. If you have any spiritual ambitions, part of your strategy must be spiritual nutrition.

Do you ever find yourself wishing you had more patience? More compassion? More self-control? Are you working to forgive someone who has wounded you deeply? Do you wish you had a greater sense of the presence and reality of God?

One answer to all these desires is “miracle.” Ask God to make you more compassionate, self-controlled, and forgiving. You can't do it. So just ask God.

The problem with this advice is that usually the person receiving this advice has already prayed at least once for the desired blessing. And the miracle didn't happen.

So the question naturally arises, what next?

The best answer is a daily habit. Develop a daily habit that feeds your, a daily habit that will fuel your spiritual success. Every day engage in a habit that feeds your desire for compassion, self-control and forgiveness. Every day engage in a habit that feeds patience and generosity, holiness and kindness. Every day do something that enhances your awareness of the goodness and nobility of God.

Pursuing holiness, goodness, nobility, a forgiving spirit is strenuous. Success requires regular spiritual nutrition to sustain the effort. So do it.

Let me be very specific. Every day, devote some time to giving intense attention to words or pictures or ideas or people that inspire you and encourage goodness.

Those who are my age or older will remember a famous Adventist preacher named Morris Venden. Every sermon had essentially the same punch line. Read your Bible every day. And pray.

I first heard him preach when I was a college student. I remember thinking it was a good idea, but I didn't have time. Then I heard other students talking about their habits of spending a half hour or even an hour every day reading their Bibles or other devotional literature, and I thought, hey, if they can do it I can. So I started. In the forty five years since then, most of the time, I've had a habit of spending daily time cultivating spiritual life. The content of that time has varied. I've followed Bible reading plans that took me through the Bible in a year. I've tried journaling my way through the New Testament. I've tried paraphrasing. I've read books other than the Bible. I have practiced meditation and contemplation.

There is no one specific approach that works for every person. And many people will find that no one approach works for them all the time. Just as you might not want to eat oatmeal every breakfast of your life, so you may find it helpful to vary the content of your devotional time. But if you aim for spiritual excellence, you cannot ignore spiritual nutrition.

Allow me to take a few minutes to draw a sharp contrast. I titled my sermon, “Feeding Angels or Dragons.” The title is a mash up of the Book of Revelation and the story I've heard told in several different versions about fighting dogs. The way the story goes, a man owns two dogs. Periodically he stages dog fights and his two dogs fight each other. Sometimes he bets on one dog, other times he bets on the other. But always, the dog he bets on wins. When a friend finally persuades the old man to explain how he can always know which dog is going to win, the old man laughs and says, “Well, the dog I feed that week always wins.

If we picture the forces of good and evil as angels and dragons and ask the question, in our lives who is going to win, the angel or the dragon, the answer is which one are we feeding? Are we feasting on angel food or dragon kibble? If you want the angel to win, it makes sense to eat angel food.

Thursday morning I sat down in Peets Coffee a couple of blocks from here to work on my sermon. I logged onto Peet's wireless internet service at access the internet Bible site that I use. When I accepted the terms of service, the next screen was a news site. My screen was filled with headlines:

10 Outrageous Police Chases

Occupiers under siege from PETA and tribe

Trump to pull $1B from UK

George Soros predicts the 2008 crisis all over again.

Father outraged by TSA pat down of his ten-year-old daughter

The diseases doctors most often misdiagnose.

Somebody famous “rips American Idol in brutal tirade”

I didn't click on any these headlines. I read nothing except the headlines themselves. Even without reading I knew where the articles would take me me if I had clicked. The more I read the angrier and more worried I would have become.

If I had read through those articles, then moved into my day, I would have been primed to see evil everywhere. When someone cut me off on the freeway, it would natural to react with outrage and anger. What a jerk! If my kid was slow getting ready for school or if he spilled his cereal, I would be ready to explode. In short, reading these news articles would have fed the dragon inside.

If you listen to Rush Limbaugh regularly you will be primed to be outraged and angry. While you may think of this as merely politics, it's not. His scorn and ridicule will shape the totality of your life. It will not feed your angels. The same is probably true for all sorts of other people who are famous now as champions of various political views—Rachel Maddow, Glenn Beck. If your goal is wisdom and compassion, you must eat more angel food. And you must limit your intake of dragon food. Fill your mind with words and images that inspire and encourage.

Our OT reading was Psalm 1. This Psalm pictures a good person as a tree planted by a river. The tree takes constant nourishment from the rich, moist soil. Let's plant our souls in places that are consistently nourishing.

I was visiting with the manager at the Starbucks near my house. She's a runner and sometimes we compare notes. I told her I was reading a book on running and it had given me a new inspiration. The author talked about running every day. He described his practice and he talked about why he thought it was indispensable if he was going to run as well as he wanted.

Kara confessed she struggled with consistency. I laughed and acknowledged I did, too. Often I would run only once a week. After reading the book I was aiming at five days a week. She said that sounded pretty good. That was her goal too, for the new year. But life—kids, work, parents—made it hard. Consistency was really hard.

I laughed and said inconsistent running was better than consistently not running. We laughed together.

I think this is a good picture for us in thinking about daily devotions. Many of us have tried to spend time daily nourishing our souls. Then life happens. Kids get sick. Emergencies interrupt. There is a crisis at work. Or we just get tired and we go days or weeks or months without any regular time with God.

It's not the end of the world. Just begin again. An inconsistent devotional life is way better than a consistent non-devotional life.

Plant yourself in a nourishing place. Feed your soul. Take time daily to feast on angel food—words of faith, hope, and love. The world will become a better place.

He Is Risen

Sermon manuscript for Sabbath, April 4, 2015

at Green Lake Church, Seattle.

Texts:  Isaiah 11:1-9, Luke 23:50-24:11

Thursday morning, before dawn, I was at my usual spot on the west side of Green Lake watching for the dawn. The sky dark because the sun was still below the horizon. Further darkening the gloom were thick clouds and a pouring rain. Not the standard Seattle mist and drizzle. This was real rain. Great drops dimpling the surface of the lake in front of me. I could feel water running down my rain pants into my shoes. I was tempted to bail, get back on my bicycle and finish my morning prayers in the warm comfort of my office. But I knew I was going to preach today about waiting and hope, so I had to stick it out.

One of the many privileges I enjoy as a pastor is being paid to watch for the dawn. Every morning you pay me to take my seat in the darkness and watch the sunrise. Some mornings, all that happens is the black-gray sky becomes a little less dark. Night time becomes day time, sort of. Thursday, sitting there in the rain under a lead-gray sky, I wondered, will the sun really rise? Will it break through?

I rehearsed the words of blessing: Grace and peace. I prayed grace and peace for the people who came to my mind, friends dealing with cancer, job loss, loneliness, unfulfilled desires for their children, grief. I recalled people I met at Aurora Commons facing homelessness because their Taco Bell wages don't equal rent. People dealing with various forms of mental illness.

I sat in the darkness with my friends and God, praying grace and peace.

Then it happened. The sun pierced the clouds. Spangles of light rippled across the lake. Blue sky spread. The darkness was gone.

I pulled out my phone and took a few pictures, climbed on my bike and headed into my day.

It's my job to watch for the dawn.

Yes, darkness happens. Sometimes, here in the Northwest, the gloom is so oppressive that there is a clinical term for its effect: Seasonal affective disorder. But the light is coming.

Most people are too cumbered with obligations to give their full attention to the sunrise. Getting the kids ready for school, getting yourself to the office on time, those are inescapable duties. Perhaps by the time the sun wakes up, you're already behind the pharmacy counter at the back of Safeway or deep in a Boeing plant miles from the nearest window. And even if there were a window nearby, you are not paid to gaze out the window. So, every morning, I watch and bear witness to the light.

In a larger sense, this is the calling of the church. We watch for the dawning of the light. We are called to be celebrants of the light. Our annual celebrations of Christmas and Easter are celebrations of the light.

Yes, darkness happens. There is drought in California and ISIS in the Middle East. Our friends are dealing with cancer and we are mourning the loss of loved ones. So, we come to church and remind ourselves and the world: He is risen. The last word is not death but resurrection. Not defeat but the triumph of goodness.

He is risen. He is risen, indeed.

The heart of our religion is not a tomb. It is not a crucifix or the crucifixion. Those things are reminders that good life, even the best life, includes heart break and disappointment, injustice and failure. Darkness happens. Evil happens. Murders and mayhem, war and disaster wreak havoc. But the final word of our faith, the ultimate word, is resurrection. New life.

He is risen. He is risen, indeed.

In the Gospel of Luke we read that late Friday after Jesus had died, a rich man named Joseph went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus.

Ordinarily, the bodies of people who were condemned to crucifixion were discarded in the garbage dump. But Joseph requested the Roman governor to allow him to provide a proper burial for Jesus. If we were watching the movie, we would feel the tension accompanying the request. We would be hoping with Joseph that Pilate would grant the request. We would have already watched Pilate cave in to the demands of the mob and condemn Jesus to death even though he knew Jesus' accusers were lying through their teeth.

Knowing that Pilate is a weak man and maybe an evil man, we expect him to say no. But we also see Joseph's obvious status. Joseph is used to hearing yes.

So how is it going to play out? Yes or no? Is Pilate going to bend to the blood thirst of the high priest or the goodness and political clout of Joseph. Will Pilate grant Joseph Jesus' body?

Joseph wins. Pilate says yes.

A large group of women was present at the cross. They watched men wrap Jesus in a burial shroud provided by Joseph. They followed the men as they carried Jesus to the tomb. They saw Jesus placed in the new tomb, a room carved into a limestone outcrop. Then, since it was about sundown, they headed home.

The darkness was complete. Goodness had been smashed. Evil had triumphed.

Early Sunday morning the women headed back to the tomb. One way we cope with death is to say a proper farewell. Grief is the inescapable cost of love, and expressing our grief is part of continuing to love the one who is gone. The women were heartbroken at Jesus' death. Unlike the men who were still hiding in their upper room worried about whether they would be next in line to be arrested, the woman cared only about saying a proper farewell.

Part of Jewish custom was to pack the body with spices. There had been no time to accomplish this on Friday, so at first light on Sunday, the women headed out with their spices to show final honor to the man who had been their hero.

When they arrived at the tomb, to their astonishment, the tomb was open. The great stone which had closed the entry was rolled to the side.

Cautiously, they peeked inside. Nothing. They stepped inside for a closer look. No, Jesus was not there. They clustered together, jabbering, questioning each other, wondering, when suddenly two men in dazzling garments were standing there with them. Angels or gods? Magicians?

Startled, terrified, the women fell on their faces to pay obeisance to these supernatural beings.

Then the men spoke. “Why are you looking for Jesus here?” they asked. “This is a cemetery.”

Which reveals a certain divine sense of humor. Why were the women looking for Jesus HERE? Because this is where they last saw him. They had watched Joseph and the other men place Jesus in this very tomb late Friday afternoon. So, of course, they looked for him here.

“Why are you looking for the living among the dead?” the angels asked. Again, a bit of divine humor until we realize it's a rhetorical question. Then just in case the women did not understand, the angel said, “He is not here. He is risen.

“Don't you remember?” the angel continued. “Remember what he told you while he was still up north in Galilee? Remember how he said he was going to be delivered into the hands of sinful men and be crucified and on the third day rise again. Don't you remember?”

As the reality of the empty tomb and the angel's words sank in, the women did remember. They jumped to their feet jabbering, laughing, hugging each other. “He's not dead. He's alive! Let's go tell the guys.”

They ran back to the city, to the room where Peter and John and the other guys were hanging out.

“Jesus is alive!” the women shouted. “We were at the tomb. It's open and empty. We saw angels. They told us Jesus is alive. Don't you remember what he said when we were still in Galilee? That he was going to be arrested and crucified and would rise again on the third day? Don't you remember?”

The men did not remember. They did not believe. Though I will give them this: Peter and John did not dismiss what the women said. It was unbelievable, of course. Who ever heard of the dead rising from the grave? Still, Peter and John raced off for the tomb to check it out. That's something.

It turned out the women were correct. The tomb was empty. Jesus was gone. And not just gone. Jesus was risen. The last word was not crucifixion. The last word was not burial. The final word was not grief but celebration. He's alive.

He is risen. He is risen, indeed.

This is heart of our religion. God's last word is resurrection. God's loudest word is resurrection.

It's easy to obsess over the darkness. When you're sitting in the dark and the rain is pouring down, dawn seems impossible or at least improbably remote.

Our calling as devotees of Jesus is to keep watching for the dawn. Don't study the darkness. Let's not become experts in human failure. Let's make sure our greatest expertise is the cultivation of hope. Let's master the skills of healing and creating, making and building, soothing and feeding. That's the call of the resurrection.

One of the deepest truths that flow from the resurrection, maybe the most challenging of all the teachings of Jesus, is this: God's final word is not death, but resurrection, restoration, reconciliation, mending the world, making things new.

When we become aware of human evil, human brokenness, human failure, where does our imagination take us? Do we imagine that the remedy is death.

When we hear of a murder, we want someone killed. We hear about the chaos, heart-break, injustice, cruelty in Syria, we are tempted to imagine the wise response is bombs and drones and missiles and Special Forces. Some of us are tempted to imagine the remedy for deadly ideologies is more death—death administered by the United States instead of by President Assad or ISIS or one of the dozens of local militias? It's tempting to imagine that killing is the path to peace.

What is God's imagination in response to the deadly chaos of the Middle East? Resurrection. New life. People healed and made righteous. God does not dream of obliterating the people in the Middle East. God dreams of healing.

As devotees of Jesus we are called back again and again to the resurrection. We are invited to meditate on God's response to deadliness and death—resurrection.

Let me apply this closer home. Have you ever hurt someone else? Have you blundered in ways that left you crippled with guilt and shame? Do you find yourself wondering if God wishes you would go away? Do think God's response to your failure is eradication? Annihilation? Do you imagine God is as scornful of your failure as you are or your ex-wife is or you children are or your parents are?

Please hear the message of the resurrection: God's response to human failure—your failure, your parents' failure, your spouse's failure—God's response to failure, no matter how grievous, is resurrection.

To echo the words of our OT reading, when God looks at the problem of lions eating lambs, his remedy is the transformation of lions, not a program of eradication. When God sees the problem of cobras biting children, God does not get rid of the snakes, he transforms them into friends of children. When God sees your capacity for doing harm, when God reviews your actual track record of doing harm, God does not imagine a future without you. God imagines a future where you are restored to the full glory God intended in creation. God dreams of resurrection for you.

This is the message of the Gospel of Luke: He is risen. And with him, we are risen.

He is risen.

He is risen, indeed.

Psalm One: Meditate

Sermon for North Hill Adventist Fellowship

Sabbath, June 30, 2012

Lolo Jones is training for the Olympics this summer. Her events are the 60- and 100-meter hurdles. She dreams of running a perfect race. In pursuit of that goal she is making use of highly sophisticated technology—monitors on her body, super high speed video.

What the technology told her was that her left side was not quite as strong as her right side. So she and her trainers worked specifically to strengthen that side of her body.

They discovered that sometimes she landed with her center of mass slightly behind her lead foot, which would cause the loss of the tiniest fraction of a second.

The unaided eye could not have detected these things. Even ordinary video could have have picked it up. But using high tech monitors on her body and super high speed video, Ms. Jones was able to identify the problems and begin modifying her performance. (See Wired Magazine, July, 2012, pp. 114-122.)

One key to excellence in athletics is training. Practice, practice, practice. A second key is coaching, smart guidance. If you are going to perform at the highest possible level, you'll need input from outside yourself. You can't watch yourself run or dive or swim.

The same holds true in spiritual life. If we are interested in spiritual excellence, we will seek input from a wise coach.

Note these words from Psalm 1. (From the KJV just because I memorized it ages ago and like the way it sounds.)

Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly,

nor standeth in the way of sinners,

nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.

But his delight is in the law of the LORD;

and in his law doth he meditate day and night.

And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water,

that bringeth forth his fruit in his season;

his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.

The person who stays away from the influence of the ungodly and gives attention to the law of God will be like a fruitful tree.

A couple of years ago, Karin gave me a fig tree. It survived the first winter, but the next season produced only two or three years. So sometime in the middle of the summer, Karin put a lot of fertilizer on it. Within weeks it was starting to bud out new figs. I was astonished. I don't that I've ever seen such dramatic almost immediate response to fertilizer.

So now, we try to fertilize early in the spring and throughout the early part of the season. It's one of the rules for producing figs at our house.

How do we fertilize our lives so we produce fruit? What can we do to cultivate spiritual life, to enhance the quality of our relationships with God and other people? What can we do to build a better world?

According to these first verses of the first Psalm one key to enjoying a blessed life is to be picky about what holds our attention.

Do not walk in the counsel of the ungodly,

Do not stand in the way of sinners,

Don't sit in the seat of the scornful.

That's King James language. Here's the same list from a modern translation (The New Living Translation.)

Do not follow the advice of the wicked

Do not stand around with sinners.

Don't join in with mockers.

That's the negative statement. Here's the corresponding positive statement:

Take delight in the law of the LORD;

Meditate in his law day and night.

If you want a blessed life, a fruitful life, an optimal life . . . Take delight in the law of the Lord. Meditate in his law day and night. How do you do that? What does this look like?

The phrase, “the law of God,” refers to the entire body of instruction God has given through the prophets, poets, and priests in the Bible. This includes the Ten Commandments, and the Two Commandments, of course, and much more.

For us “the Bible” is roughly equivalent to what the Psalmist meant in his day.

David urges us to “Take delight in the law of the Lord. Meditate in his law day and night.” This is one of the keys to receiving coaching from God.

A while back I was doing one of my favorite things: I was visiting with a couple of young ministers. They are smart people, devoted to God and the church. They are scholars. I love talking big ideas with them. At our last visit, near the end of our time together, I asked them, “What have you guys done this week to cultivate your lives as saints? You are obviously cultivating your minds. That's good. What are you doing to cultivate your souls? “

There was a long silence. Then a bit of confused conversation. It's not a common topic in our conversation. Most of us have opinions on all sorts of issues—issues in the church, in theology, politics, health care, environmental practice, investment strategy. We are ready for debates.

Psalm One calls us to something different. “Take delight in the law of the Lord. Meditate in his law. “

“Taking delight,” and “meditating” is not the same thing as studying. Study cultivates the mind. It is important. Meditation cultivates the soul (or heart or character). When we meditate on God's law, when we delight ourselves in God's words, God's sweetness permeates our being. We enjoy God and are transformed in the process.

A couple of interesting conversations from campmeeting last week.

The first conversation: A friend of mine talked about the challenges of continuing to give care to a profoundly needy person. He's been at it for a decade. It taxes him to his limit and sometimes beyond. I am continually astonished at his generosity, his faithfulness, his heroic service. The other thing he almost always talks about when we are together is his quiet times out in the woods and mountains. He gets out into the beauty and quietness and meditates and finds refreshment for his soul. Meditation does not make his life easy. It does make his continued service possible.

The second conversation: A self-important Adventist bureaucrat told me about a new battle in Adventist prophecy-preaching circles. The “scholars” are fighting over the identity of the king of the north and the king of the south in Daniel 11. The bureaucrat cheerfully talked about his work to advance the “correct view.” In talking with this man, I heard a lot about study. I heard nothing about meditation.

Study may make us smarter regarding things that don't matter. Meditation makes us sweeter. And that does matter.

Study of obscure prophecies may enable us to articulate sophisticated-sounding speculations about the future. (This is not too far removed from fantasy.) Meditation will enable us to act wisely and effectively here in the real world, right now.

Psalm One urges us: Delight yourself in God's law. Meditate on it day and night.

Meditation allows the sweetness of God to permeate our minds and hearts. The world needs more people who are filled with the sweetness of God. Meditation allows God's wisdom to shape us. The world needs people who act out the wisdom of God.

Spiritual practices shape our souls. We come to church and sing songs over and over. With time these songs become deeply rooted in our minds. They sing themselves to us spontaneously for no apparent reason. This past week, snatches of three different songs kept running through my mind.

Lord have mercy

Christ have mercy

Lord, have mercy on me.

Hallelujah, grace like rain falls down on me

Hallelujah all my sins are washed away.

Everlasting, Your light will shine when all else fades

Never ending, Your glory goes beyond all fame

The songs are confident, bright, full of grace and hope. And when they were running through my mind, my thoughts are confident, bright, full of grace and hope.

For most of us listening to sermons for is a spiritual practice. The preacher is not giving us new information. He or she is helping us immerse ourselves in truth we already know. When we listen to sermons we are soaking in ordinary, common truth.

(Is it really new information that we are supposed to tell the truth, be kind and forgiving, keep the Sabbath and not kill? When I preach that God is love, is that new information? No. Rather we come to church for the purpose of basking in the old truths. We come to celebrate, to affirm, to savor the law of God, the instruction God has given through the Bible.)

Attending church is a vital spiritual practice. Psalm One urges us to build on it, to go farther. Delight yourself in God's law, meditate on God's law daily—all the time, in fact.

In actual practice people have found it very helpful to devote some time daily to savoring God's good words. Every morning before you head off to work, or every evening before you go off to sleep or every noon before you eat lunch—devote some regular time to contemplating God's law.

If you are like the church bureaucrat I mentioned earlier and you find prophecy interesting, be careful. Studying prophecy is not the same as meditating on God's law. Prophecy in Christian circles is usually focused on figuring out who the bad guy is. So whether you think the bad guy symbolized in a particular passage is the Pope or Muslims or the Russians or Chinese or communists or President Obama or Candidate Romney or Lutherans or the Illumenati—spiritually it's all the same. You will come away from your study congratulating yourself that you are not the bad guy and perhaps poisoned by renewed hatred for the people you think are identified as opposing God.

Make sure you balance your study of prophecy with ample, languorous meditation on the law of God—the law perfectly epitomized in the single affirmation—God loves—and the twin commands—Love God and love your neighbor.

There are many ways to “do” meditation. Here is one approach: Take a short passage of Scripture, for instance, Matthew 7:11. “If you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask him.” Read it, then use your imagination to amplify it, to roll it around in your mind.

If you had a million dollars what gift would you give your children? If your kid or grand kid needed something, what would you be willing to go without so they could have what they needed? How many nights did you forgo sleep to be presence with your sick child? How many nights would you be willing to be miserably awake if your kid needed you to?

Your own regard for your children is a window into God's regard for you. God is at least as nice, as generous, as forgiving, as merciful toward you as you could imagine being toward your children.

If you—plain, ordinary, unremarkable you—would be willing to lavish education, medicine, discipline, hours helping with homework, trips to Disneyland, or the hassle of dealing with a puppy . . . if you would be willing to this and more for your children, how much more will your Father in heaven do for you.

Spend time imaging what you would do for your children, then turn it around and imagine it as God's generosity toward you.

Then, after spending some time imagining this as God's affection toward you, bring to mind others in your life—family, friends, neighbors, co-workers. Not the whole world, but specific people that come to your mind as you are doing this practice of meditation. Imagine God's affection toward these others. Request that God show them his affection, give them the capacity to understand the richness of heaven's love. Ask God to demonstrate his love in their lives by providing for them concrete tangible blessings.

Once you have learned to pray this way for people you naturally love, then try it for the people you naturally loathe. Pray for politicians. Not for all of them generically, but for the ones you most despise. This will move you away from the company of the mockers.

A serious threat to the health of our nation right now is the way Christians are ignoring the counsel of Psalm One when we step into the political realm. We are nice at church. We are generous to our neighbors, then, when we step in the realm of politics we succumb to the temptation to join in with mockers and repeat their words via email and facebook. The most astonishing example of this was a ninety-year old elder who forwarded to his large email list a picture of a nude woman. The reason he forwarded it was because supposedly it was a picture of President Obama's mother, and the good elder was so eager to mock the president he couldn't help himself. So instead of hitting delete when he received it, he hit forward.

We all know—or should know—the Bible's stern condemnation of gossip. But somehow when it comes to politics we freely pass on every rumor, every juicy bit of slander, no matter how unrelated to actual policy. God expects better of us.

Psalm One warns against standing with sinners or hanging out with mockers.

Let me be very explicit: This passage warns against Rush Limbaugh. He is a superb mocker. His personal life is a case study in venal wickedness. He has a foul mouth. We may love it when he skewers politicians we disagree with, but that love rises from an unhealthy place in our souls. God calls us to higher, nobler forms of political discourse.

Blessed is the person who does NOT walk in the counsel of the ungodly or join in with mockers. I pick on Limbaugh because he is the most famous. There are plenty of other people on both sides of the political divide that are skillful at mockery. They are not our models. The Bible warns us away from them and their methods.

Let's circulate ideas about legislation we would like to see passed. Let's argue about the optimal way to structure government so that it protects without stifling, so that it brings us together as a genuine community without hindering private initiative and individual freedom. There is plenty of room for vigorous debate over optimal forms of government. There is no room for mockery, no place for character assassination. Obviously, we can't control the world's delight in mucking around. We can choose a better way for ourselves.

Let's delight ourselves in the law of God—that is the principles of life outlined in the Bible. This begins with refusing to join in with mockers and sinners as they heap scorn and abuse on everyone who disagrees with them.

Now let me turn from politics to something every trickier: home.

Parents, never mock your children. Do not mock them for being slow or stupid or noisy or careless or thoughtless or rebellious. Never, ever mock your children. There are times, of course, when you must correct them. You may need to pronounce stern words of condemnation on particular behaviors: “That is not right!” “That is unacceptable!” But never mock your children. And hopefully they will absorb the culture of respect you establish and refrain from mocking you when they are changing your diapers or answering for the hundredth time the same question you've been asking all day.

When we delight in and meditate on God's law we will be like fertilized fig trees, like well-coached Olympic athletes. Or in the words of Psalm One, we will be like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in season and whose leaves never wither. Whatever we do will prosper.

On the other hand, if we keep company with the ungodly, Psalm One predicts we will be like chaff—dry bits of grass—blown away by the wind.

God is watching the Psalmist declares. So the wicked will lose out in the judgment. And the righteous will enjoy the eternal favor of God. They will be and are already blessed.