Daily Devotions with the Dean

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This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 78:1-39; Leviticus 26:1-20; 1 Timothy 2:1-6; Matthew 13:18-23

This morning’s Canticles are: Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); following the OT reading, Canticle 13 (“A Song of Praise,” BCP, p. 90); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 18 (“A Song to the Lamb,” Revelation 4:11; 5:9-10, 13, BCP, p. 93)

Today’s passages from the Psalms, Leviticus, and Matthew are strong warnings about a failure of faith. They caution against allowing oneself to become impervious to God’s abundant grace. 

Hard ground. In Jesus’s parable, hard ground simply makes the seed bounce off it. Psalm 78 sees in Israelites’ stubbornness in the wilderness an imperviousness to God’s grace. God rains down manna, “bread of angels … food enough.” But it wasn’t enough: “they did not stop their craving” (v. 29) … “they had no faith in his wonderful works” (v. 32). The goodness of God’s seed was falling on hard, dry, impenetrable ground. 

Do not let that happen with me. Lord, have mercy.

Shallow ground shows hollow early promise. When the truths of God’s Word (even if I assent to them) don’t connect with the longings of my heart, those truths don’t get written to the “hard drive” of my being. They don’t connect with core of my being. It’s like when I find myself in the garage and I can’t remember what I came there for (say, to get a nail so I could hang a picture). I start out with a purpose, but along the way I think about one thing and then another. By the time I get to the garage, the original intention is gone. It’s possible to experience an initial impulse to worship, obey, serve, even love. But the desire doesn’t last. It withers in the face of deeper, but lesser, impulses. It fades when faith doesn’t sustain it. 

On the east bank of the Red Sea in the first blush of their exodus-rescue, the Israelites danced and sang the Song of Moses: “I will sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously” (Exodus 15:1). But the early joy faded: the wilderness journey was long and hard. Even “bread of angels” couldn’t satisfy the “cravings” (Psalm 78:24-30). “They had no faith in God, nor did they put their trust in his saving power” (Psalm 78:22). They forgot that Yahweh rescued them, and brought them where they were. They lost their confidence that Yahweh’s love would provide their needs on their way to their promised new home; and all he wanted was for them to love him in return. 

“But I have this against you,” writes the angel to the church in Ephesus, “that you have left your first love” (Revelation 2:4). Never let me lose my first love. Christ, have mercy.

Ground that will grow anything fails to distinguish between good and bad. Jesus’s point is that our hearts are fertile ground for all kinds of things—some good, some bad. Below the surface of every person are hidden motives and deep desires. I need to be discerning about what kind of “life” I allow my heart to cultivate. The Israelites of the Bible, for instance, are inclined to worship. That’s the wiring of their hearts. And that’s why Leviticus 26 leads with the command: “You shall make for yourselves no idols and erect no carved images or pillars … to worship at them. You shall keep my sabbaths and reverence my sanctuary” (Leviticus 26:2). Will they worship the true God his way? Or will they worship a god of their own fashioning? Or, just as bad, will they be so arrogant as to worship the true God—but in their own way? 

Jesus forces probing questions with his words about thorns that choke: Do I believe that God is there, but when it comes to finding love, do I rely on lesser lovers? And when it comes to comfort, do I go to Jack Daniels or fill-in-the-blank? Do I believe that every person bears God’s image, but do I only care about the ones who can improve my lot? Do I believe I am to love my neighbor, but refuse to curb my freedom and wear a mask to protect their health? Do I believe Christ died for my sins, but justify my existence by being a people-pleaser? Do I believe my hope lies in Christ’s return, but find myself manic—or, alternatively, incapacitated—over how to protect my portfolio? 

Let my heart be neither hard ground nor shallow ground nor indiscriminate ground. Let my heart be good ground for your Word. Lord, have mercy.

Collect for the Sixth Sunday of Easter. O God, you have prepared for those who love you such good things as surpass our understanding: Pour into our hearts such love towards you, that we, loving you in all things and above all things, may obtain your promises, which exceed all that we can desire; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Be blessed this day. 

Reggie Kidd+

Daily Devotions with the Dean

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This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 80; Leviticus 25:35-55; Colossians 1:9-14; Matthew 13:1-16

This morning’s Canticles are: Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); following the OT reading, Canticle 9 (“The First Song of Isaiah,” Isaiah 12:2-6, BCP, p. 86); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 19 (“The Song of the Redeemed,” Revelation 15:3-4, BCP, p. 94)

Israel’s life was always supposed to be a symbol of hope for the world. 

So, a few words about the first half of Levitus 25 (which would have been yesterday’s reading). Every fifty years, Israel was to “proclaim liberty throughout the land … a jubilee for you” (Leviticus 25:10). At the end of last week’s readings in Leviticus, we saw how Israel was instructed to calculate seven weeks between the annual feast of the first fruits (Leviticus 23:9-14) and the annual feast marking the end of the year’s labors (Leviticus 23:15-21). Beyond that, Israel was to mark off, not just her weeks, but her years according to a similar pattern. Every seventh year was to be a sabbatical— (Leviticus 25:1-7). Then after seven cycles of seven years, at the fiftieth year, an additional sabbath year was to be observed. On the Day of Atonement in that fiftieth year, a shophar made from a ram’s horn was to sound, marking the Year of Jubilee. All land was to revert to its ancestral owners. It was to be a time of release for slaves, of the forgiveness of debts, and of additional rest for the land. Israel was to do a complete reset, under the banner of “liberty thoughout the land” (Leviticus 25:2-34). It was a vision that never materialized in Israel’s history (see Leviticus 26:34-35; 2 Chronicles 36:21; Jeremiah 25:11-12; 29:10). It never actually controlled Israel’s social life, except around the margins. 

The jubilee vision lived on in the prophets, however. Isaiah foresaw the coming of God’s Servant who would proclaim “release for the captive … the year of the Lord’s favor” (Isaiah 61:1-4). And Daniel laid out future history in terms of cycles of sevens that would ultimately lead to “one like a son of man” who would assume all dominion on earth (Daniel 7:9-17; 9:20-27), and who would “put an end to sin, … atone for iniquity, [and] … bring in everlasting righteousness” (Daniel 9:20-27). Accordingly, Jesus proclaims himself to be that very herald of “the year of the Lord’s favor” (Luke 4:18-19). And John shapes his book of Revelation around seven cycles of seven, culminating in Jesus Christ’s final defeat of everything evil as he ushers in “a new heaven and a new earth” (Revelation 19-22). 

Meanwhile, what takeaways could we possibly have from the Jubilee legislation? 

The logic of redemption. A constant refrain in today’s verses from Leviticus 25 is this: “I brought you out of the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 25:38, 42, 55). People who know they have been bought with a price treat others differently: the mercy that has been extended to me—I extend that same mercy for you. The freedom I enjoy as a gift—I want it for you as well. Thus, Israelites were forbidden to charge usurious interest to impoverished fellow Israelites (Leviticus 25:35-38). Fellow Israelites who became reduced to such poverty that they had to sell themselves into slavery were to be given every opportunity to work their way out their indenture (Leviticus 25:39-43, 47-55). As to non-Israelite slaves (Leviticus 25:44-46), the Jubilee-release didn’t apply. God’s covenant was with the Israelites, not with pagans in the land. The dramatic scope of the new covenant is that its gospel extends beyond Israel, to include the nations. As Paul writes: “to the Jew first, and also to the Greek” (Romans 1;17). When God’s own Son assumed the role of slave (Philippians 2:1-12), he made us all into former-slaves who serve as if slaves, because we are in reality “friends” (John 15:15). 

A lasting inheritance. The message of Leviticus 25 and its intended reset of property ownership every fifty years is that as a member of God’s family, I have been given a permanent inheritance—one I cannot sell or give away. In Moses’s day here’s what that sounded like: “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, to give you the land of Canaan, to be your God” (Leviticus 25:38). Since the coming of Christ, here’s what that promise of inheritance sounds like: “By his great mercy he has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who are being protected by the power of God through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time” (1 Peter 1:3b-5).  

One day, everything else I acquire in this life will go away, and I will discover that my Father’s inheritance is the one truly valuable thing I have. At the heart of that inheritance is this truth: “… to be your God” (Leviticus 25:38b). 

Be blessed this day.

Reggie Kidd+


Daily Devotions with the Dean

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This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 106:1-18; Leviticus 23:1-22; 2 Thessalonians 2:1-17; Matthew 7:1-12

This morning’s Canticles are: Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); following the OT reading, Canticle 11 (“The Second Song of Isaiah, Isaiah 55:6-11; BCP, p. 86); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 18 (“A Song to the Lamb,” Revelation 4:11; 5:9-10, 13, BCP, p. 93)

I love the way themes in different passages in the Daily Office sometimes converge, as they do today. 

Leviticus 23 & the festival life. In the shape of Israel’s cycle of festivals it is difficult not to see an anticipation of the Eucharistic life. First, the annual Passover looks back to deliverance from slavery—“Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us; therefore let us keep the feast” (Leviticus 23:4-8; 1 Corinthians 6:7b,8a). Second, at the appearance of the first fruits of harvest, Israelites feast again to fortify themselves for the harvest-labors ahead—Christ offers himself as “Bread of Life,” strengthening and nourishing us in our earthly pilgrimage (Leviticus 23:9-14; John 6, esp. verse 35). Third, seven sabbaths after the first fruits, on the fiftieth day, when the harvest is all in, Israel celebrates the end of the year’s labors—“…until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom” (Leviticus 23:15-21; Matthew 26:29; and see Isaiah 25:5-8; Revelation 19:6-9). 

Here, perfectly laid out in advance, is the Eucharistic pattern. Praise be, for a meal of remembrance. Praise be, for a meal of nourishment. Praise be, for a meal of anticipation. 

2 Thessalonians 2 & a life of anticipation. Believers in Paul’s church in Thessalonica were so eager for the day of Christ’s return and for its accompanying feast, that they were afraid they had missed it somehow. From Acts, it appears that Paul may have been with them for only “three sabbaths” when he brought the gospel to them (Acts 17:2). So there were some gaps in his instruction, including details about Christ’s future coming. Since Paul’s departure, the Thessalonians have been unsettled by reports that Paul himself was teaching elsewhere that “the day of the Lord is already here” (2 Thessalonians 2:2). Thessalonians are afraid they may have missed out, and they are speculating about how to fill in the gaps in their “prophecy charts.” 

Paul is concerned that their preoccupation with the “end times” will distract the Thessalonians from the good beginning of their faith. He urges them: “as you learned from us how you ought to live and to please God (as in fact, you are doing), you should do so more and more” (1 Thessalonians 4:1). Specifically, he warns them about experimenting with sexual misbehavior (1 Thessalonians 4:3-7, something for which, historically, end-times cults are notorious). And he rebukes some Thessalonian believers who have quit their jobs, apparently so they can just wait around for the end (1 Thessalonians 4:11-12; 2 Thessalonians 3:10-13). 

Even as he fills in some of the gaps in their knowledge about the end, Paul is sparing as to details. Because Christ has come, Paul implies that despite the fact that Satan knows his is a lost cause, the evil one is nonetheless staging a last, desperate, but ultimately doomed attempt at domination. The Holy Spirit has been poured out on all flesh, restraining evil enough so that the gospel has the power to turn people “from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith…” (Acts 26:18). Conversely, there has also been released “a mystery of lawlessness” to oppose the gospel. Paul sees history unfolding as a great contest between these forces. 

At some point in the future, according to today’s reading, Paul expects the “mystery of lawlessness” to be consolidated or crystalized in a “man of lawlessness,” who, in the mysterious patience of God, will receive demonically deceptive power to perform miracles, and who will have the audacity to declare himself to be God. For twenty centuries since Paul’s letter, Christians have witnessed various figures and movements that correspond to aspects of this “mystery” and this “man.” Still, the end is yet to come. When it comes, Paul seems to say, we will know it’s here—precisely because that’s when “the Lord Jesus will destroy [him] by the breath of his mouth, annihilating him by the manifestation of his coming” (2 Thessalonians 2:8). 

That future victory is part of what we celebrate at each week’s Eucharistic feast—even, if for now, out of safety considerations, that weekly feast is itself something we can only remember and anticipate! And the certainty of Christ’s future victory over everything evil is why Paul can conclude today’s epistle reading this way:

Now may our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and through grace gave us eternal comfort and good hope, comfort your hearts and strengthen them in every good work and word (2 Thessalonians 3:16-17). 

I pray you live in that comfort and strength today. 

Be blessed this day. 
Reggie Kidd+

Daily Devotions with the Dean

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This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalms 70 & 71; Leviticus 19:26-37; 2 Thessalonians 1:1-12; Matthew 6:25-34

This morning’s Canticles are: Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); following the OT reading, Canticle 8 (“The Song of Moses,” Exodus 15, BCP, p. 85); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 19 (“The Song of the Redeemed,” Revelation 15:3-4, BCP, p. 94)

The compilers of the Psalter arranged the 150 songs into five “books,” probably to mirror in rough fashion the structure of the five books of Moses. The second book of the Psalter closes with Psalm 71. Most of David’s own psalms lie within the Psalter’s first two “books” (Psalms 1-41 and Psalms 42-71).  For the most part, Psalms 1-71 are songs that recall King David’s trust in the midst of trials. The editors of the Psalter crowned David’s psalms with today’s lovely Psalm 71, although this one is not specifically attributed to David.

Composed by an old man who sees his life following a pattern like David’s, this anonymous psalm-writer has experienced similar deliverances (some of the imagery of this psalm mirrors Psalm 22). Like David, he plays the lyre. Like David, he determines to close out his life on a note of thankful praise. He wants to bequeath to the next generation a legacy of faithfulness and hope.  

And now that I am old and gray-headed, O God, do not forsake me, till I make known your strength to this generation and your power to all who are to come. — Psalm 71:18. It’s wonderful that the Bible has room for a psalm like Psalm 71. It’s kind of an “old person’s” psalm. Its composer has had a long walk with the Lord, but now feels his strength ebbing: “Forsake me not when my strength fails” (verse 9b). It’s important to know this psalm is here, even for a young person, even if, for now, it’s going to get filed it away for later. The day will come when the fear of being “cast off in my old age” becomes real (verse 9a). 

And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? … So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today. — Matthew 6:27, 34. “Be not therefore anxious for the morrow: for the morrow will be anxious for itself” is how an older version renders the middle part of this saying of Jesus. There is an artfulness here that I relish. I can almost see the perceptive semi-smile on Jesus’s face as he says it, especially the punchline: “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” Jesus is telling us to take ourselves less seriously, and instead to take more seriously the Lord’s ability to handle our troubles infinitely better than we could ever handle them ourselves. I’m grateful for the soft reminder. Meanwhile, he says, we can pay attention to the things that matter to him: “Seek first the kingdom,” (then to paraphrase) “and by the way, when you do that, all the other stuff you’ve been worrying about, it’ll get taken care of too.” 

There’s a sense in which the Psalms are a blueprint for how to handle the things that create fear within us. David, and this Psalmist, continue to imagine themselves—safe and protected—within a strong and formidable castle, against which outside enemies cannot prevail. Their unwavering trust in God—for protection, for justice, for consolation, and for joy—is the wondrous result of a long relationship of seeking the one who is the kingdom. Jesus says to us, “Bring it to me. Bring it all to me. I’ve got this.”

Be blessed this day.
Reggie Kidd+

Daily Devotions with the Dean

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This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 72; Leviticus 19:1-18; 1 Thessalonians 5:12-28; Matthew 6:19-24

This morning’s Canticles are: Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); following the OT reading, Canticle 11 (“The Third Song of Isaiah,” Isaiah 60:1-3,11a,14c,18-19, BCP, p. 87); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 16 (“The Song of Zechariah,” Luke 1:68-79, BCP, p. 92)

Leviticus is a closed book to too many people. That’s not as it should be. Eastertide is a season for instruction on the “So what?” of Easter, and these chapters from Leviticus are valuable for just that. Yesterday, we saw that Yahweh has dealt with sin by covering it and by removing it. Now, as a result, the Lord proclaims his people “holy,” which means “set apart” for relationship with himself. He says that because he is holy they are to be holy as well (Leviticus 19:2), and he shows them what that looks like. 

Holiness in worship. The people’s holiness means their worship does not look like that of the surrounding world. The Lord’s people have their own way of measuring time: the Sabbath. They don’t make images of Yahweh. To do so would make him look just like the deities that surrounding cultures imagine for themselves. The Lord invites his people to commune with him in feasts of “well-being,” but on his terms, not theirs (Leviticus 19:5-8). Unlike peoples they encounter, they don’t try to curry favor with their deity by selling their daughters to perform sacred sexual rites (Leviticus 19:29, from tomorrow’s reading). 

Holiness in life. The people’s holiness means they differ too in the way they treat one another. The way of the world seems to be: “I will treat you the way you treat me.” Yahweh’s way is: “Treat one another the way I have treated you.” He summarizes his approach at the end of tomorrow’s reading: “You shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God” (Leviticus 19:34). The shorthand is: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” It means, for instance, that all the profit from my labors do not belong to me—a portion belongs to “the poor and the alien,” those who live under conditions like the slavery I endured in Egypt. It also means that my neighbor deserves truthfulness from me in my interpersonal dealings with them—even when that means I have to tell them they are wrong (Leviticus 19:17). And Yahweh’s justice system is “neither partial to the little man nor overawed by the great” (Leviticus 19:15 Jerusalem Bible). 

For the Lord, the ritual +  the ethical support one another, and so he instructs us: “Be holy” and “love your neighbor.”

The coming King. Give the King your justice, O God, and your righteousness to the King’s Son; that he may rule your people righteously and the poor with justice.  — Psalm 72:1. Israel’s hopes remained focused on the coming of a King who would rule justly, make Israel a showcase for God’s kind intentions towards the poor and the distressed, and cause the nations to bow before him and “do him service.” Solomon’s psalm captures a moment in Israel’s life when a measure of that hope was being realized. And Christians have always seen here a prefiguring of the coming of Christ. Thus, the splendid hymn text by Isaac Watts (Hymnal 1982, no. 544): 

Jesus shall reign where’er the sun 
doth his successive journey run;
his kingdom stretch from shore to shore,
till moon shall wax and wane no more. 

To him shall endless prayer be made,
and praises throng to crown his head;
his Name like sweet perfume shall rise
with every morning sacrifice.

People and realms of every tongue
dwell on his love with sweetest song;
and infant voices shall proclaim
their early blessings on his Name.

Blessings abound where’er he reigns:
the prisoners leap to lose their chains,
the weary find eternal rest, 
and all who suffer want are blest. 

Let every creature rise and bring 
peculiar honors to our King;
angels descend with songs again,
and earth repeat the loud amen. 

Collect for the Fifth Sunday of Easter. Almighty God, whom truly to know is everlasting life: Grant us so perfectly to know your Son Jesus Christ to be the way, the truth, and the life, that we may steadfastly follow his steps in the way that leads to eternal life; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Be blessed this day. 
Reggie Kidd+


Daily Devotions with the Dean

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This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalms 61 & 62; Leviticus 16:20-34; 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11; Matthew 6:7-15

This morning’s Canticles are: Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); following the OT reading, Canticle 13 (“A Song of Praise,” BCP, p. 90); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 18 (“A Song to the Lamb,” Revelation 4:11; 5:9-10, 13, BCP, p. 93)

In the most dramatic fashion imaginable, in its description of the Day of Atonement, Leviticus 16 demonstrates how God deals with our sin: he covers it, and then he removes it.

In the first half of the chapter (yesterday’s reading), the key word is “cover” (Hebrew, ḵipper). The rendering into English as “atonement” masks the more literal imagery at the heart of the “Yom Kippur,” “The Day of Covering.” The cloud of incense provides a covering of protection as the High Priest makes his annual entrance into the Holy of Holies “or he will die” (Leviticus 16:13). He sprinkles blood on the “mercy seat” (Hebrew, hakkappōreṯ, lit., “place of covering”) which is atop the altar. And then he “covers” the altar itself by sprinkling it and putting blood on its horns, whereby it is “cleansed” and “made holy from the sinfulness of the people” (Leviticus 16:19). The Greek translation of the Hebrew “cover” (ḵipper) is exilaskesthai. At the Greek word’s root is hileōs, or “happy, gracious, satisfied.” The understanding is that the covering of the altar with blood makes satisfaction for sin, provides peace between God and us, and turns his righteous wrath into a gracious smile. 

In the second half of the chapter (today’s reading), we see the other side of what God does with our sin. First he covers it. Now he removes it. 

The goat shall bear on itself all their iniquities to a barren region; and the goat shall be set free in the wilderness. … [O]n this day atonement shall be made for you, to cleanse you; from all your sins you shall be clean before the Lord. — Leviticus 16:22, 30

The main thing the High Priest does in today’s reading is to lay hands on a goat, confessing the people’s sins and symbolically “putting them on the head of the goat” (Leviticus 16:21). He then releases the goat into the wilderness—i.e., away from the people’s presence. Then the carcasses of the animals that had been slain in the “covering” sacrifices are burned “outside the camp”—i.e., away from the people’s presence. (See the New Testament corollary at Hebrews 13:12-13).

And the people are told to take sabbath-rest. It’s a wonderful picture of the heart of sabbath. Sin has been taken care of. Its guilt and shame are gone. There’s peace, and the freedom to rest in contented joy. Rather than an odious obligation, sabbath-keeping is the greatest of privileges—“you…shall do no work, neither the citizen nor the alien who resides among you. For on this day atonement shall be made for you, to cleanse you; from all your sins you shall be clean before the Lord” (Leviticus 16:29b-30). 

Takeaways:

First, as to the covering of sin. No matter how much we tell ourselves God is loving and that his “property is always to have mercy,” I don’t suppose there are any of us who don’t harbor deep fears that God doesn’t like us. Maybe we think we’ve done something so beyond the pale, so shameful that he can’t forgive it, and must turn his back on us. Or maybe we fear he is so petty as to be looking for excuses to reject us—for the slightest peccadillo, the most trivial misstep. 

The first takeaway then, for me at least, is to assure myself that whatever stands between the holiness of God and me, he has covered by the blood of his Son. Whatever wrath I deserved has been satisfied. My fears created an angry dictator-God. But the reality is the opposite. The true God, in his mercy, sent his beloved Son. I can confidently say to my soul what my friend Steve Brown is so fond of saying: “God’s not mad at you any more.”

Second, regarding the removal of sin. The psalmist exultantly sings, “[A]s far as the east is from the west, so far he removes our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:12). I want to ask myself how I might think differently, live differently, and long differently, if I know that God has taken my sins far from me. So I examine my own heart to detect vestiges of an old life that I am inclined to keep with me “in the camp,” so to speak—things that I need, with God’s help, to banish to the wilderness. 

I have questions to ask of my own soul. You have questions to ask of yours. These sinful holdovers aren’t who we are anymore. We can say good-bye to them. As far as God is concerned, they have already been sent away. They’ve been nailed to a cross “outside the city gate in order to sanctify” (Hebrews 13:13), and they no longer have any claim to us, or power over us (see Romans 6). We can let them go. 

Collect for Purity. Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy Name; through Christ our Lord. Amen. 

Be blessed this day.

Reggie Kidd+