This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 50; Isaiah 9:18–10:4; 2 Peter 2:10b–16; Matthew 3:1–12
This morning’s Canticles are: 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)
God hates the mess that sin makes of our lives. During Advent we inventory the ways that Scripture indicts sin. If flashes of self-recognition come, they give us the chance to come clean about the disarray. They invite us to step deeper into the grace of the Incarnate Lord and his determination to mend what is broken, heal what is sick, straighten what is twisted, and clean what is polluted.
Common themes unite Isaiah, Peter, and John the Baptist today: greed, oppression of the poor, vacuous spirituality, adulterous hearts. Providentially, this morning’s psalm—Psalm 50—provides helpful hooks for the naming of our sins, and for putting ourselves on the path to their purging.
“… and toss my words behind your back…” — Psalm 50:17. This Psalm of Asaph paints a graphic picture of what it is to disregard what God says. I think of receiving a letter with news I don’t care to hear, reading it, then crumpling it up and tossing it over my shoulder. To ignore his Word is to say “Not so much!” to what God says is important. In the spirit of the psalmist, Isaiah rails against “iniquitous decrees” and “oppressive statutes.” He means unrighteous laws that allow rich and powerful people “to turn aside the needy from justice and to rob the poor of my people of their right, that widows may be your spoil, and that you may make the orphans your prey!” (Isaiah 10:2). Israel’s story is replete with reminders like this one: “You shall not wrong or oppress a resident alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt. You shall not abuse any widow or orphan” (Exodus 22:21–22). Those are not words to toss lightly aside.
“… and you thought that I am like you.” — Psalm 50:21. The psalmist knows how easy it is for us imagine God to be merely a projection of ourselves. We can delude ourselves into thinking he is there to affirm our preferences, endorse our values, and carry out our plans. Like the psalmist, John the Baptist will have none of it. He is preparing people for the coming of the great Day of the Lord. He confronts those who think that on that day “the Big Guy” will simply baptize the status quo, and lock in the privileged position of those at the top of the social pyramid. The Scribes and the Pharisees are supposed to be stewards of the vision of God’s kingdom. Instead, they have recast God in the image of themselves. They have refashioned his kingdom and made it reflect their own self-worth. Bad idea.
“… you who forget God.” — Psalm 50:23. Deep down, we know that this sort of thinking is bogus. We know God is not like us! So we simply block out the very thought of him. Alas, we give ourselves a “God-amnesia.” Every one of us knows exactly what it’s like to contemplate doing something against conscience, but then shouting conscience down because we want to do what we want to do. It’s as though a fog of forgetfulness rolls in on us, and we welcome it. Peter understands this truth as well as the psalmist does. That’s why he warns against filling our eyes with adultery, becoming insatiable for sin, yielding our unsteady souls to sin’s enticements, training our hearts in greed—in a word, leaving the straight road and going astray (2 Peter 2:14–15). Peter recalls the example of Balaam whose greed allowed him to “forget” God’s call on his life, until the voice of a donkey snapped him back to reality.
“Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving…” — Psalm 50:14,24. The psalmist offers an antidote to the folly of sin, whether of disregard for God’s Word, making God over into our likeness, or forgetting about God altogether. That antidote is the offering of thanks. Clearly, the psalmist doesn’t mean simply getting the liturgy and the prayer formulas right: “I do not accuse you because of your sacrifices … all the beasts of the forest are mine … If I were hungry, I would not tell you …” (Psalm 50:8–12). What the psalmist says that God is after is a heart full of gratitude. Accordingly, I pray:
Lord, I thank you the words of your Scriptures that shout to me the good news that you have rescued me from sin and death. You Word says that though I was lost, you found me. Your Word says that though I was nothing, you so valued me that you sent your eternal and only Son to make me your child and heir. I am thankful, therefore, for the opportunity to reflect your character and your love to the lost and the least who cross my path this day. Amen.
Lord, I thank you that you are not like me, but are a great God, king of the universe. I gratefully take my small place in your large design. I give myself anew to furthering your kingdom, not mine. Amen.
Lord, in this Advent season especially, I thank you that though I am prone to forget you, you did not forget me. You came in grace and mercy so that my story would not end in dissipation through the indulgence of the sins of the flesh or of a heart alienated from you. As the thief on the cross, I ask, “Remember me” … as I remember you. Amen.
Be blessed this day,
Reggie Kidd+