You have heard that our ancestors were told, “You must not murder. If you commit murder, you are subject to judgment.” But I say, if you are even angry with someone, you are subject to judgment! … You have heard the commandment that says, “You must not commit adultery.” But I say, anyone who even looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. [Matthew 5:21-22a,27-28 (NLT)]
We tend to think of fasting during Lent as abstaining from certain foods, drinks, or activities. Several years ago, however, I was asked, “What if you fasted regret? What if your friends fasted comparison? What would be the fruit of fasting stinginess?” Those questions proposed an entirely different kind of fast than refraining from sweets or social media. In truth, fasting from things like self-righteousness, discontent, and criticism is probably harder (and more meaningful) than giving up energy drinks or dining out.
Even though we have freedom of speech, we can’t shout “Fire!” in a crowded theatre or “Bomb!” in the security line at the airport. In the silence of our minds, however, we can shout anything at anyone, anywhere, whenever we want, with no one ever knowing! We can secretly call people unpleasant names and even wish ill upon them! We can be charming and polite to the ex-spouse who abandoned us while we wreak all sorts of revenge on them in our minds. We can be civil to the false friend who betrayed us or the contractor who deceived us while, in our imaginations, we’re hitting back to even the score. We appear to have “turned the other cheek” when, in our hearts, we haven’t.
Since our thoughts are far less easy to control than our actions, we’d like to think of them as less important. When we entertain wicked, vengeful, or hurtful thoughts, we think we’re not sinning because we’d never actually do the terrible things we’re picturing. Since we won’t burn down the house of the man who deceived us or climb in bed with the sexy hunk at work, we think we’re innocent of wrongdoing by thinking about them. But are we? Remember the words of Jimmy Carter that nearly cost him the 1976 election: “I’ve looked on a lot of women with lust. I’ve committed adultery in my heart many times.” Upon reading Jesus’ words in Matthew 5, Carter’s confession, while ill-advised politically, was true! While thoughts and actions can have vastly different results, our Lord made it quite clear that our thoughts are as important as our actions. Jesus knew the evil thoughts of the Scribes and he knows ours.
Fortunately for Jimmy Carter and the rest of us sinners, when Jesus told us to cut off our hands or gouge out our eyes if they cause us to lust, He was using hyperbole; otherwise, we all would be missing both hands and eyes. Nevertheless, Jesus was stressing the importance of avoiding sin. Sin is not a matter of the eyes and hands; it is a matter of the heart!
While we can’t control the temptations of this fallen world, we can control our evil thoughts. We can renounce every one of them and replace them with godly thoughts. Max Lucado describes it this way: ”You can be the air traffic controller of your mental airport. You occupy the control tower and can direct the mental traffic of your world.” Lucado explains that, when we keep the runway filled with godly thoughts, the bad ones circling around have no place to land. Our thoughts about other people are as much a part of love for them as are our actions.
Instead of fasting from caffeine or social media during Lent, what if we deliberately and prayerfully fasted from things like anger, lust, envy, animosity, conceit, disdain, spite, and impatience? How would our lives change if, instead of only forty days, we fasted from them all the time?
Tomorrow, December 6, is the Feast of St. Nicholas (or Sinterklass). Although it is difficult to know fact from fiction, we do know that St. Nicholas was born around 270 AD in Patara, a city in Lycia (modern day Turkey). The son of wealthy and devout parents, it was his uncle, the Bishop of Patara, who took charge of his spiritual life. Nicholas became the Bishop of Myra in Turkey, quite likely attended the council of Nicaea, spent seven years imprisoned under Diocletian Persecution, and died on December 6, around 343 AD. While we don’t know much about the man, he must have had a great impact on the early Christian church because, by 450 AD, churches in Asia Minor and Greece were named in his honor and, by the mid-6th century, the Emperor Justinian dedicated a church to him in Constantinople.
Hebrews 11 lists the great examples of faith found in the Hebrew Scriptures. Every story, however, has a supporting cast and, while we may not remember or even know their names, they played an important role in everyone’s story. We know Moses is one of those heroes of faith but what of the midwives Shiphrah and Puah? If they hadn’t defied Pharaoh’s orders to kill newborn Hebrew boys, Moses wouldn’t have lived long enough to be found by Pharaoh’s daughter let alone lead Israel to the Promised Land!
Jeopardy introduced me to the word “performative” but, in an article about how scandals are hurting organized religion, the New York Times introduced me to another new word, “orthopraxy.” While “orthodoxy” means correct belief, doctrine, or teaching, “orthopraxy” has to do with correct practice, behavior, or action. Orthodoxy says, “Hear my words!” but orthopraxy says, “Watch my behavior!” With the flood of scandals throughout the Christian church, it’s easy to point our fingers at the disgraced Christian celebrities, megachurch pastors, and Roman Catholic priests whose orthodoxy didn’t match their orthopraxy—people who espoused devotion to God and adherence to His word while disregarding it in their own lives. Let’s remember, however, that whenever we point a finger at someone, three other fingers point at us! Although the Times article was about the disconnect between orthodoxy and orthopraxy in the church at large, there’s often a disconnect between the two in our personal lives, as well.
In the category of “Newer Words,” the night’s Final Jeopardy clue was, “Philosopher’s use it for language that accompanies an action, like ‘I dub thee knight’; it also means done for show or signal.” The correct response was “performative.” A new word to me, I encountered it again the following day in an article by Rich Villodas about “performative spirituality.” After asking, ”If a good deed is not posted on social media, did it really happen?” Villodas continued with another rhetorical question, “If an act of generosity is not caught on camera and never goes viral, was it a worthwhile gesture?”
I was married fifty-seven years ago today. When I promised to love, comfort, honor, cherish, forsake all others, and to have and to hold my husband “for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health” until we parted at death, I had no idea just how bad “for worse” could get, how little money “for poorer” might be, or that sickness could mean much more than a case of the flu. I certainly never pictured us growing old with wrinkles, white hair, hearing aids, bifocals, arthritis, and the limitations that come advanced years.
Devotions of the Heart 