Weekly Readings Reflections: 2nd Sunday of Lent

Our readings for the second Sunday of Lent are:

After 43 years of marriage, my question is: "just what did Abraham tell Sarah when he took Isaac to Mt. Moriah?" Second question might be "what sort of inner dialogue did Abraham have with himself when he heard this call from God?" Third question might be: "in what ways did Abraham (and maybe Sarah) treat/regard Isaac differently after this?"
What are some of the big losses that you've suffered in your life? Pick one of the most painful ones. This could be loss of a loved one, loss of a season in your life, loss of a job, a relationship, ...
How voluntary was that loss on your part? How did you participate in that loss? Or were you strictly a victim?
How did you respond to that loss?
Where was God in all of that?

When I was young, we had a slogan: praise God anyhow! You could read that many ways, I suppose. I imagine that the intended reading was that the committed Christian defies expectations, defies hardship, defies fear and finds reason to praise God regardless of the circumstances. A more repressive reading denies you permission to be honest with God.
When something really eats at you, do you take that at all to God?
If not, why is that? Do you think He's too busy to listen to you complain? Or do you fear that the very act of praying will broaden your horizons, give you a different perspective, and perhaps ruin your bad mood?
Do you ever get the word from God that He agrees with you, that what you're going through really sucks?
Why do you think that is?

Growing up, we had what we called prayer chains. If you had a need, you'd call someone, they would call three or four people, each of them would call three or four people, and very quickly, there would be this throng of fellow believers in prayer on your behalf. I'm very old, this memory predates Internet and e-mail. But we never gave much thought to Jesus praying for us.
Do you ever get into a situation where you don't really know what to pray for? Sometimes that happens in the beginning, you have no idea what the options are, where to go, what to hope for. Other times, you can get to this place after many fruitless attempts to resolve the problem, and you have all but given up.
Have you ever prayed to be shown what to pray for?
Have you ever gotten that prayer answered, even though you thought you knew what to pray for?

You have to love Peter. When something big happens, we always want to find some way to get back into touch with that event. We build shrines all of the time to things as meaningful as where Elvis slept, or the hill where Jesus was crucified. Nothing wrong with that, but God wanted them to get something out of the now that they were in.
When do you find it hardest to listen to what God is saying to you?
What have you done to try to avoid those circumstances?
How do you tell that you are getting "hard of hearing" with regard to God's will in your life?
How might you become more sensitive to God's moving in the now?

Carrying the Wood

Father tells me that we are going to a distant place to worship.

Somewhere far from the sounds of the bleating goats, and sheep,

Somewhere that affords us a view into a great distance.

Somewhere that reminds us how close our God is, in every place.

Worship means sacrifice.

Sacrifice means slaughter.

Once the slaughter, then the fire.

Then the smoke of our prayers rising to the heavens.

The wood for the fire weighs heavy on my back.

I am proud to bear this burden.

Our journey must take us above the timberline,

To a place where the trees cannot grow.

This much wood speaks of a grand sacrifice.

One that must burn long in order to burn completely.

Father tells me that our Father will provide the sacrifice.

I do not know what that means.

I am lashed tight to the wood that I have carried these miles.

I see the setting sun glinting red on the upraised knife of flint.

I look my father in the eye as tears stream down his face.

And I find comfort that I will not die alone.

No matter where I have gone since that day -

I have never been alone.

The whisper of a breeze brings angel voices to my ear.

The soft caress of raindrops reminds me of my father's embrace.

And I know that both of my fathers are always at hand.

The one who wielded the knife, and the one who willed it.

And I know, that no matter how, or when, or in what company I die -

That death will have meaning, that death will matter, that death will serve my Father.

Shalom!

Weekly Readings Reflections