Author: trob

“Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?” – Luke 15:4 [part of the Gospel reading for this upcoming Sunday, the Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost, RCL, Year C]. Jesus posed this question to Pharisees and scribes who were grumbling about his dinner companions—tax collectors and sinners who had drawn near to hear him teach. The religious leaders found his table fellowship scandalous, his choice of company questionable. So Jesus told them a story. As was His practice, He began with a question—essentially, “Which one of…

The word that came to Jeremiah from the LORD: “Come, go down to the potter’s house, and there I will let you hear my words.” So I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was working at his wheel. The vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as seemed good to him [Jeremiah 18:1-4, from this Sunday’s Old Testament reading, the Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, RCL, Year C]. While on my recent pilgrimage to Turkey, in the ancient region of Cappadocia, my fellow sojourners and I encountered a potter’s workshop that seemed to exist outside of…

For my people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living water, and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water [Jeremiah 2:13, a portion of the OT reading for this Sunday, the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, RCL, Year C]. Thirty feet beneath the streets of Istanbul, we descended into one of the most breathtaking spaces I’ve ever encountered. The Basilica Cistern, built in the sixth century to serve Constantinople, stretches across nearly an acre of underground chambers. Three hundred thirty-six columns rise from the shallow water like an ancient forest, their capitals supporting graceful arches that disappear into shadows. Soft lighting…

Now the word of the LORD came to me saying, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations” [Jeremiah 1:4-5]. There was a moment, early in my mother’s womb, when there wasn’t really a “me” at all. There was just “us” —my identical twin, Todd, and me, completely and utterly conjoined, sharing the same cellular beginning, the same genetic blueprint, the same dark, warm universe that would nurture us both. We were, for that brief time, one flesh in the most literal sense possible. But then something mysterious happened. Somehow, in ways…

“Am I a God near by,” says the Lord, “and not a God far off?” [Jeremiah 23:23]. YHWH’s question, found at the beginning of the alternate Old Testament lesson for this upcoming Sunday [23:23–29, the Tenth Sunday after Pentecost, RCL, Year C], feels like comfort at first hearing. Of course we want a nearby God, accessible and intimate. But Jeremiah won’t let us rest in that assurance. The God who is near is also the God who fills heaven and earth, from whom no secrets are hidden. Divine proximity in this part of the prophet’s text means exposure rather than refuge, penetrating presence rather than protective shelter. Jeremiah’s words are…

Two months ago, Jane was away for the weekend, so I broke our Sunday routine and sat alone on the back row at Blacknall Presbyterian instead of our usual spot two-thirds back on the left side. Earlier that morning, in the parking lot, a woman I’d seen before—probably mid-forties, clearly struggling with mental health or substance issues—had approached me asking for money. In our nearly cashless world, I had none to give. She muttered some expletives; I wished her a good day and headed inside. Fifteen minutes into the service, she entered the sanctuary. I didn’t see her at first, but then felt a not-so-gentle shove to my shoulder. “Can…

This Sunday’s second reading from Hebrews [11:1-3, 8-16] offers us one of the most stirring passages in all of Scripture. You’ve likely heard it quoted at funerals or seen it referenced in discussions about faith: Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” [11:1]. The passage goes on to tell the stories of biblical heroes — Abraham and Sarah, Moses, Noah — but not in the way we might expect. These aren’t tales of people who had everything figured out, who possessed unshakeable certainty about God’s plans. Instead, they’re stories of men and women who acted on promises they knew they would never…

And he said to them, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions” [Luke 12:15, a portion of the Gospel reading, Luke 12:13-21, for this Sunday, the Eighth Sunday after Pentecost (Revised Common Lectionary, Year C]. It begins with an ordinary moment: someone asks Jesus to settle a family inheritance dispute. To modern ears, this might sound odd—why ask a traveling preacher to arbitrate a legal matter? But in Jesus’ time, it was quite common for Jews to bring their disputes to a trusted rabbi for advice and arbitration. Rabbis were expected to know the law…

Far be it from You to do such a thing, to slay the righteous with the wicked, so that the righteous fare as the wicked! Far be that from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just? — Genesis 18:25 This week’s meditation focuses on Genesis 18:20–32, the alternate Old Testament reading for this upcoming Sunday, the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost (Revised Common Lectionary, Year C). The passage follows immediately after that mysterious encounter between Abraham and his three visitors—one of whom may well have been YHWH Himself. In that earlier passage, Sarah has just finished eavesdropping on the divine promise that she, at ninety,…

But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things, but few things are needed–indeed only one” [Luke 10:41-42a]. Growing up at Olney Presbyterian Church in Gastonia, I often watched the deacons prepare for our monthly covered dish suppers. Half a dozen men would arrive early to wrestle heavy collapsible tables down from the stuffy attic, set up chairs, and make sure everything was ready before the meal. Afterward, they stayed late to clean up, fold chairs, and haul it all back upstairs. An uncle was one of those deacons. He wasn’t a complainer by nature, but now and then I’d hear him mutter under…