When some of us think about friendship with God, it might feel like a foreign concept. We may have been taught that God is only to be feared or revered, and friendship with God just seems too casual. And while I certainly don’t advocate for making God seem lesser, I do advocate for thinking about God as friend, which naturally rearranges my thoughts on God’s proximity and intimacy with me.

In John 15:14-15 Jesus says, “You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you” (NIV). 

One time at work, I had to bring up an issue that was funneled up to people in much higher positions than me. Though it was something that directly impacted me, those at the top decided to take matters into their own hands. They left me out of the decision making and didn’t explain why they were doing the things they were doing. They didn’t feel they had to. They were in positions of power, and I was too lowly to need to be informed. My thoughts or feelings on the issue were not a concern and I felt devalued and frustrated.

But in this passage in John, Jesus is saying that is not the case with him. 

Because of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, a change has occurred in our relationship with God. God is no longer a stranger with unknown ways. We know what God’s about and what God’s up to because we know what Jesus was about and what Jesus was up to. Jesus is the living image and revelation of God. 

And because of this knowledge, our obedience to God isn’t a forced or blind acceptance. Our obedience is compelled through friendship because we want to be a part of what God’s up to—the redemption and restoration of the world.

​And because we’re friends, our input is valued. Our relationship is meaningful. Our worth has more to do with our connection than our output. We have an in with upper management! 

We have a friend in high places.

Reflect: Is it easy or hard for you to view God as a friend? Why or why not? In what ways can you cultivate your friendship with God this week?

 I planted a wildflower garden on the side of my house. I thought there would be enough light, but the sideways growth of my plants tells me differently! They keep leaning towards the light. And it made me think about where I lean.

Sometimes (ok, *many times*…) I lean toward finding significance. If I can work for so-and-so, if I can live in “that” city, if I can impress them with “that” job, I’ll find my worth. 

Sometimes (ok, again, you got me, *many times*) I lean towards control and safety. If I can get that salary, live in that neighborhood, manipulate that outcome, I’ll be safe. 

But isn’t leaning so much work? 

What if we didn’t have to lean anymore? 

What if our significance was found in just being who God made us to be? What if our safety was more about trust and acceptance rather than worry and anticipation? What if God has given us everything we need, right now? What if the only place we leaned was on “the everlasting arms?” (Now that’s gonna be in your head all week)

Gracious God, help me to lean only towards you. Amen.

For the past couple years my husband and I have planted a vegetable garden on the side of our house. We love having fresh salsa or a crisp tomato cucumber salad composed of our freshly grown harvest.
Yesterday, I went to our vegetable garden and noticed our first two tomatoes had ripened and were ready for the picking. I was excited to see the first fruits of the year and it immediately made me think of the places in the Bible that mention giving the first fruits to God. This got me reflecting on how my vegetable garden came to be in the first place.

This year, my husband Billy built us new garden beds to put on the side of the house after our old ones rotted. After we dug out the old wood and assembled the new beds, we went to Lowe’s to pick out our plants. When we got home, we dug into the ground to transplant the plants into our garden.
And over the past few months, we’ve weeded the garden when it looked overrun with weeds. We’ve watered the garden when it seemed dry and wilty. We’ve put a lot of work into nurturing our plants so they would grow and prosper.

But at the end of the day, no matter how much attention I give my plants, I can’t make the plants grow. I don’t control the axis of the earth, the amount of hours the sun shines, or the frequency of natural rainfall. I don’t place the worms in the soil or the bees that pollinate the fruit flowers or position the plant leaves to get sun. Those aspects are divinely orchestrated by the Creator of the Universe.
Sure, my role in my plants’ growth is important, yet it is partial. Significant, yet incomplete. I need the Creator to help me produce the fruit of my labor.

When Proverbs 3:9 says, “Honor the LORD with your wealth, with the first fruits of all your crops;” (NIV) it reminds me that giving my first and finest resources back to God is a way of acknowledging “I didn’t do this all on my own” (1). It’s a way of laying down the falsehood that my efforts alone achieve an outcome and encourages me to joyfully submit to the gift of co-creation with God.
Though you may not yield many crops or have much wealth to speak of, what “first fruits” can you give back to God today?

Perhaps it’s as simple as a prayer of praise and thanksgiving immediately following received recognition. Or, perhaps it’s dedicating the very first moments of your day to spending time with God.
Whatever your “first fruits” may be, let’s recognize our reliance on our Creator and rejoice in our partnership of co-creating the Kingdom to come.

This Week’s Practice: Giving - What first and finest resource can you give to God this week?

Notes/Reference:
(1) Raymond C. Van Leeuwen in The New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary discusses the first fruits mentioned in Proverbs as “the first produce of the harvest and symbolically the best” (775).
Van Leeuwen, Raymond C. “Proverbs” in The New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary Volume III. Edited by Leeander E. Keck et al. Abingdon Press: Nashville, 2015.

You know it’s a bad day when you wish you were a bird. And on this particularly hard day, I wanted wings. Anxiety is like that for me sometimes. Some days it feels lighter and I barely notice it, but on other days it comes at me like a freight train and I’m standing in the middle of the tracks. When it seems too overwhelming to bear, I daydream I could fly away from it. 

All it takes is that one trigger and my mind starts to spiral. I go from zero to ninja, ready to strike at any moment. No one’s fighting me of course, there’s no immediate danger, but nevertheless I’m stuck standing at the ready…waiting…evaluating every potential threat and planning every counter-maneuver to ensure the win. The fight never comes, but the planning is tiresome. It’s exhausting being a ninja. 

And on one of these ninja days I was watching the birds at my bird feeder. We get all sort of birds at our feeders, from Mourning Doves to Indigo Buntings, we’ve developed quite a rookery. As I watched the birds carelessly eat their seeds, I thought to myself, It must be really nice being a bird. Birds don’t look like they’re heavy with sadness or weighed down by worry. All they have to do is eat and procreate. Sure there might be other things they do, but overall, it seems like a nice, simple life. And when I caught myself having that thought, that’s when I knew I had crossed the threshold from anxiety to despair.

And thank goodness for the Bible. I’m not alone in wishing I was a bird. We see a similar sentiment in the lament of Psalm 55. We’re not really sure of the exact circumstances of this Psalm, but we do know the Psalmist had a lot going on, and had a lot of anxiety and inner turmoil as a result. In verse 2 and 5 he or she says (1), “My thoughts trouble me and I am distraught…my heart is in anguish within me; fear and trembling have beset me; horror has overwhelmed me… (Psalm 55:2-5, NIV).”

And because of all this turmoil the psalmist then expresses, “Oh, that I had the wings of a dove. I would fly away and be at rest. I would flee far away and stay in the desert. I would hurry to my place of shelter far from the tempest and storm.” (Psalm 55:6-8, NIV). 

I don’t know where you find yourself today, but if you’re having an I-wish-I-was-a-bird day, then I’d like to suggest two things this Psalm recommends:

1. Express your feelings to God

The Psalmist in this psalm doesn’t hold anything back. From trash talking enemies to being honest about feeling terror, the psalmist lays it all out before God. Sometimes we think that we can’t really bring our emotions to God. Sure, we can praise God when we’re grateful, we can confess our sins when we’re bad, but complain? Moan? Wish ill on my enemies? That seems off-limits. Yet that’s the liberating part about the psalms: we are invited to share our innermost feelings with God, the deep hurt and rejection, the overwhelming fear and terror that we stuff down so that we can live our lives not looking like a crazy person. 

Friends, it’s time to bring it out of hiding. Lay it on the table while you sit with God and see what God has to say about it. 

Now a second recommendation of this Psalm:

2. Make a choice to move from despair to trust.

Please note (as evidenced by this Psalm): we have to go through step 1 before we can go to step 2. So often we are taught in our Christian culture to go straight to Step 2. Don’t be fearful, trust God. Don’t be angry, trust God. Don’t be sad, trust God. But when we skip over acknowledging our legitimate emotions, we find ourselves in denial rather than trust. In order to trust God, we must have something to trust God about and in order to have something to trust God about we have to understand the gravity of our situation.

"...when we skip over acknowledging our legitimate emotions, we find ourselves in denial rather than trust." 

Now, there is another end of this pendulum. Some of us are so comfortable with the idea of lament, feeling all the feels and unleashing all the anger, that we find ourselves getting stuck in these emotions. We know we’re justified in our feelings—he betrayed me, she lied to me, they hurt me—and we are. And, at some point—at the right point in our journey—we have to make a choice to move from our anger, our grief, our hurt to trust. 

There comes a point when we have to acknowledge that we can’t fly in circles around our problems and we can’t fly away from our problems. We need God’s help to face our problems and move forward with trust.

We need a “but” in our story. Verse 23 says, “But as for me, I trust in you" (Psalm 55:23, NIV, emphasis mine)

Finding this “but” in our story might look different for all of us. We might need help getting there. Help might look like lots of prayer sprinkled in with medication, a therapist, a pastor, a good meditation app—finding our “but” is a process, and it’s a necessary process.

So friend, feel all the feels and when you’re ready, put your hope and trust in the God who loves you, who hears you, and who died for you. Amen.

Inhale: I cast my cares upon the Lord
Exhale: and the Lord sustains me.

(Adapted from Psalm 55:22)

Notes:
(1) The NIV attributes the Psalm to David but the The Expositor's Bible Commentary did not specify authorship.
​
Work consulted for this devotion: Longman III, Tremper and Garland, David E. The Expositor's Bible Commentary Revised Edition Volume 5: Psalms. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2008.

There are peonies in front of my house that only bloom one-to-two weeks out of the whole year. After they bloom, the flowers start to look a little crazy, drop their petals, and are gone. I have to wait a long 51 weeks to see them again. When they bloom, they’re the most vibrant pink I’ve ever seen. I love them so much and get so excited to see them bloom every year even though we have such a short time together. 

These peonies teach me to enjoy the beauty of the present moment. So often my mind is in the past, batting away painful memories of rejection, hurt, or failure. And other days my mind is brimming with the future, occupied by possibilities, improvements, and plans.

And certainly there is beauty in the past and future. I can think back to last Mother’s Day when these peonies bloomed and my mom’s face lit up with delight looking at them. I can think to the future of next year, expectant for the beauty of this vibrant creation I’ll see again. But even more importantly, these flowers help me see beauty in the now. How sad would it be to only reminisce about or anticipate these peonies and miss the splendor right in front of me?

Someone else I know has enjoyed the beauty of flowers and the present moment: Jesus. In Matthew 6:28 Jesus asks the crowd “…why do you worry?” and talks about the beauty of flowers as an example of how we do not need to be occupied with future thoughts about how our needs will be met. And Jesus goes on to say in verse 34, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own” (Matt 6:34, NIV). 

How cool is it that Jesus looked at flowers too? And when he did, it reminded him of staying in the present moment. One of the translations from the Greek of the word “worry” in this passage is to “take thought" (1). So when Jesus asks “why do you worry” I hear Jesus asking, “Why are you holding on to this thought? Why is this occupying space in your mind?” And perhaps an even more poignant question I hear is, “Why are you letting this thought distract you from me?”

And it’s not wrong to think about the past or worry about the future - God wouldn’t wire our brains with those capabilities if there wasn’t some beauty in them - everything God makes is good (see Creation story). The problem comes when we are so occupied with what once was or what will be that we miss God with us now. Remember one of Jesus' names? Immanuel, which means God with us (Matt 1:23, NIV). Of course, God was with us in the past and God will be with us in the future, but God doesn’t want us to miss God with us now. 

I'm still a work in progress, but this way of thinking has become a game changer for me. Previously to stifle my worries, I would often sit and think about how God had provided for me in the past to help me trust that God would provide for me in the future - and that is wonderful and there are so many places in the Bible that teach us to do that. But while doing this, I acted like God was far away, helpful in a distant time. What I wasn't doing was also acknowledging that God was with me in my worry at that very moment. Now when a worry creeps up, I try to remember to say "God, help me see where you are in this moment." 

"The problem comes when we are so occupied with what once was or what will be that we miss God with us now."

So friend, would you be willing to ask this question with me: What’s occupying my mind today? What thoughts am I holding onto that are distracting me from sensing God’s presence right now? 

And if you’re like me and you have an overactive mind that’s always working overtime and don’t know how to get out of the web of your thoughts, I like to start with a deep breath.

Today, I hope you’ll join me in slowing down the mind, taking a deep breath, and soaking in the majesty of God with us.

Try this breath prayer to remind you that God is with you right now. Inhale for 4 seconds, silently saying the corresponding words to yourself, then exhale for 4 seconds, silently saying the corresponding words to yourself.

Inhale: I am with you always
Exhale: To the very end of the age

(Adapted from Matthew 28:20, NIV)

Work Cited
(1) "μεριμνάω" Blue Letter Bible, Accessed 15 May 2021. https://www.blueletterbible.org/lang/lexicon/lexicon.cfm?Strongs=G3309&t=NIV

A weekend not long ago I was able to get away from Nashville and spend some time in an air bnb with a  beautiful view on Lookout Mountain. However, before we call this weekend a success story, I’d like to mention that we barely got there. We tried three different ways to get out of our neighborhood but each time got stuck in snow and ice and my husband had to shovel snow out from under our tires. After 40 minutes of looking like Floridians in a blizzard, a seasoned snow-driving neighbor kindly drove our car out of the neighborhood for us so we could get on good roads!

But by the time we got to the airbnb, it was already dark, so we couldn’t enjoy the view we worked so hard to get to. So needless to say the next morning I was excited to get up and finally see the gorgeous view from the online pictures. But this time, the morning fog was too dense. I couldn’t really see anything. I was so frustrated! After all our work to get here and waiting for the morning light to come back out, I still couldn’t see the view.

This obstructed view made me think of John 1:43-51, a time when my pal Nathanael couldn’t see quite clearly either.

Now, let me begin by saying I love Nathanael in this passage because, well, Nathanael has no filter. And don’t you just love a good chat with no filter of politeness? Maybe I’m alone here, but I can’t wait to leave that friends house and tell my husband what I really felt about that dinner discussion. Or the meeting after the meeting where my closest colleagues and I discuss how our pitch really went.

When Philip tells Nathanael he has found the Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth, Nathanael candidly says, “Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?” (John 1:46, NIV). I just love that. He’s just telling it as it is. There’s no filter. Nathanael’s just spouting out what comes off the top of his head based on his preconceived notions. Nazareth? Population: Who cares? Nazareth? Those country bumpkins with that crazy accent? Nazareth? Where my crazy cousin lives? So much unbridled skepticism and doubt wrapped up in this one statement! 

And the best part is, Nathanael’s skepticism and doubt didn’t stop him from being praised by Jesus. When Jesus meets Nathanael, Jesus says, “Here truly is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit” (John 1:47, NIV). 

Wow. Think about the slight Nathanael just said about Jesus a verse earlier. Nathanael couldn’t see Jesus clearly because Nathanael was blinded by the dense fog of his preconceived notions of who the Messiah would be. Many Jews thought the Messiah would be someone grand, someone who would conquer the Roman Empire and lift the Jews from their lowly status into a formidable people. The Messiah, their long-awaited leader, couldn’t possibly be from the rag-tag town of Nazareth.

But while Nathanael’s view was hazy and inaccurate, Jesus saw Nathanael clearly. And what Jesus sees surprises us. Jesus sees the good. Jesus says there is no deceit in Nathanael. Could this possibly be a reference to Nathanael’s candor from before? We don’t know for sure, but we do know that Jesus thought highly of Nathanael’s character.

Sometimes we think if Jesus saw us, if Jesus truly looked at us, that he would be disappointed. That he’d see the envy behind our lack of excitement for a friend. That he’d see the ungratefulness behind the words of our complaint. That he’d see the greed behind our reluctant giving. 

Jesus could have seen Nathanael’s lack of faith, his stubbornness, his put down, his totally wrong impression of salvation history - it was just one verse ago! But Jesus saw the good. And Jesus sees the good in you.

"But Jesus saw the good. And Jesus sees the good in you."

Jesus sees the good in you because your sin was left on the blood-stained cross. You don’t have to carry around the shame of the past, the failings of the present, or the inevitable mess-ups of the future, because your sins have been forgiven once for all through the death and resurrection of Jesus.

Even if you can’t see Jesus very clearly, if you’re clouded by doubts or skeptical about this Jesus from Nazareth, Jesus sees you. And Jesus sees that you are good. Sure, you have things to work on, and you’re encouraged to work on them! But that doesn’t define the foundation of who you are. To Jesus, you are a beautiful view. You are good. You are worthy. And you were worth dying for.

Say these phrases either silently or aloud, giving space to breath and receive between each one. 

• Thank you, God, for your love that is too wide, too deep, too high, and too low to comprehend. 
• May I love you with all my heart, soul, and mind.
• May I be open to receive your abounding love. 
• May every corner of my body and soul feel your love surrounding me. 
• May your love overflow through me to others.

Now, say these phrases slowly, naming a loved one. 

• Thank you, God, for your love that is too wide, too deep, too high, and too low to comprehend. 
• May [name] love you with all [his/her] heart, soul, and mind.
• May [name] be open to receive your abounding love. 
• May every corner of [name's] body and soul feel your love surrounding [him/her]. 
• May your love overflow through [name] to others.

Now, say these phrases slowly, naming someone you dislike or are in conflict with.

• Thank you, God, for your love that is too wide, too deep, too high, and too low to comprehend. 
• May [name] love you with all [his/her] heart, soul, and mind.
• May [name] be open to receive your abounding love. 
• May every corner of [name's] body and soul feel your love surrounding [him/her]. 
• May your love overflow through [name] to others.

​Amen.

In last week’s devotion we talked about wilderness as representing God’s wild and free spirit, not bound to human structure and institutions. But this week, we’re going to talk about wilderness as being a desolate and dark place. 
 
One day I decided that I should go to the actual wilderness to really understand wilderness in scripture. So, what that meant was I went to my backyard—not just my regular backyard—the backyard *behind* my fence. Behind the fence is this land in the middle of our neighborhood full of trees that’s meant to catch and drain water when it rains really hard. But when it’s not raining, it’s mostly dry. So, on a dry day, I put on my wilderness shoes and I went to the wilderness. As I pushed aside some thorny plants blockading the entrance, I stepped into the wilderness and was stunned at how vast it was. I couldn’t even see the other side where I knew there were houses. I had no idea there was such a big area back there. 
 
Then, I noticed an abandoned beach ball on the ground and wondered how long it had been there. Then all of a sudden, I saw a camouflage bucket hung on a tree with a string that looked like it was filled with ammo and looked like some sort of booby trap, so I got away from that as fast as possible. As I was walking away, I saw some leafy plant on the ground and thought – I wonder if that’s poison oak – what does poison oak look like again? Then, I started noticing holes in the ground, and thought to myself – do snakes live in holes? And just as I was about to freak out about snakes, I looked down, and there were hundreds of mosquitos flying around my legs. I lasted in the wilderness about five minutes.
 
Some of us are thrust into the wilderness not by our own choice, but by systemic injustices or devastating trauma. When I was thrust into the wilderness after a deep betrayal, I found that the wilderness of my soul was a lot like that trip to my backyard. Being thrust into the wilderness was like being shoved through the blockade of thorns, a series of painful, sharp, realizations that slashed at my joy and left me with open wounds. As I looked around my wilderness, I found that it was indeed vast, full of hurt with no end in sight.
 
I saw the abandoned beach ball, memories of a fun and beautiful life in the past that now looked lost and abandoned, never to be retrieved again. The triggers of my pain were like booby traps, spiraling me back to the beginning of my pain all over again, making me feel stuck, like there was no forward path to healing. The poison oak was reminders that spread my soul with bitterness, anger, and resentment. The snake holes were my fear that I’m not safe and I need to shield myself from any future pain. And the mosquitoes, the constant thoughts surrounding me, telling me that it was my fault this trauma happened, because I’m not good enough. 
 
This wilderness can be a dark place. In spiritual circles it’s called the dark night of the soul. It’s a place where we feel abandoned by God, wondering, “God, where are you?” Where are you in my cancer? Where are you in my grief? Where are you in my loneliness? Where are you in my depression?
 
Surely the Israelites were asking this same question when they were taken from their home, their sense of security and safety, taken away from their identity, away from their beloved temple, God’s dwelling place with humanity,[1]and exiled to Babylon. They too were in a dark place. Psalm 137 tells us they wept at the streams of Babylon, longing for their home. They couldn’t even sing songs because the pain of exile was too painful. 
 
But there is good news. We will be brought out of the wilderness.
 
The Israelites were eventually brought out of their captivity and returned to their land. In Advent readings for Week 3, we read Isaiah’s prophecy in chapter 35 that the Israelites will return to their home...singing! “Gladness and joy” will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away (Isa 35:10).
 
But the thing is, the journey out of the wilderness isn’t always what we expect. We don’t always see God working in our circumstances. And when we get to the other side of our healing, it’s not always rainbows and butterflies (to quote Maroon 5). 
 
That wasn’t the case for the Israelites, they didn’t quite have the glorious return they expected back home. They struggled to restore their lives.[2]And it’s not the case for me, I’m out of the throes of trauma yet still struggling with the aftermath of an anxiety disorder. And you may be able to relate. You may have gone through something terribly painful and thought you were healed, but every now and then the pain still stings your heart. 
 
Friend, I want to tell you today that joy and gladness does come. The joy and gladness we feel from being healed in this life isn’t necessarily because we’re done with the pain, but because we see the good that comes out it, because we’ve experienced the redemption that happens in this life, now.
 
Because of our pain, we now can empathize with others who have experienced what we’ve experienced, we can walk with someone who’s beginning the painful journey we just walked out of, and we can help people wait in the wilderness for complete deliverance. 
 
And during Advent and Christmas we celebrate our promise of complete deliverance, which is only possibly because Jesus became flesh and dwelt among us. And because Jesus became what we are, he knows every painful circumstance we go through. Jesus understands pain, abandonment, betrayal, and sickness. And our promise of complete deliverance was fulfilled when Jesus was crucified on the cross, was resurrected on the third day, and ascended into heaven. Jesus became a curse for us so what we could be freed from the curse of this world (Gal 3:13), so that we could be freed from the wildernesses of this life, let out of captivity of Sin and Death, and brought back from exile into God’s presence, so that we can enter God’s Kingdom with singing. Amen. 
 
Work Referenced:
​
[1]“Temple” The Bible Project. Accessed 13 December 2020. https://bibleproject.com/learn/temple/

[2]McCann, J. Clinton JR. “The Book of Psalms” in The New Interpreters Bible Commentary. Edited by Leander E. Keck et al. Abingdon Press: Nashville 2015, 537.

A few times a year, my mom and I head to a mountain cabin outside Chattanooga where there is the most beautiful vista and a stunning sunrise. When it’s warm, we do yoga, meditation, and prayer practices outside on the deck overlooking the mountains. We encounter God there and feel centered and overcome with peace. It’s interesting that we leave our respective homes and our churches to come to this place to experience God. It’s not that we don’t encounter God at home or in our church, but there’s something special about being in the wilderness that enables us to feel God’s presence is near.

During Advent readings, the theme of wilderness comes up when we read about John the Baptist in Matthew 3. John was a prophet who proceeded Jesus and preached in the wilderness, telling everyone he could that the Kingdom of God was near. I always picture John as a peculiar fellow, a man who’s a little off-kilter and would definitely stand out in a crowd. Kind of a Tarzan of sorts. Scripture is very specific to tell us that John wore clothes made of camel hair and ate locusts and wild honey (Matt 3:4). And what especially caught my attention about this passage is that it says people left the city of Jerusalem and all regions of Jordan to come to John out in the wilderness to hear about Jesus’ first and second coming (Matt 4:5). 

Like my mom and I pilgrimage to the mountain cabin to encounter God’s presence, the people of Jerusalem and all regions of Jordan also left their homes and their temple to hear John the Baptist share God’s truth outside of their traditions and religious institutions. 

Throughout scripture, the wilderness has many important implications and meanings, but in this instance, the wilderness reminds me of God’s wild and free spirit. God rarely follows human-made rules and structures. God could have chosen a well known Pharisee or a member of the Sanhedrin to prophesy about Jesus’ two comings, but God chose John the Baptist who preached outside of the Temple and ate the food of the poor.(1) 

God could have ensured that Jesus was born as someone of noble birth, born to a King to inherit a thrown. But instead, Jesus was born to a humble woman named Mary, who was almost disowned by her husband, and who had her baby in a cave surrounded by livestock. 

God could have chosen people with influence to be his disciples. People with powerful jobs who already had followers. But Jesus chose seemingly ordinary men—from the sunburned fisherman to the disliked tax collector—for his inner circle. 

God is not against institutions and structures, Jesus taught in synagogues for example (Luke 4:15), and God cannot be contained by institutions and structures—Jesus also taught on mountainsides (Matt 5:1), in houses (Luke 5:18), and on boats (Luke 5:3).

"God cannot be contained by institutions and structures..."

This Advent season, as you prepare your heart to celebrate Christ’s first coming and eagerly anticipate Christ’s second coming, grow closer to God by looking for God in the wilderness. Take time to find God in all things: in the songs on the radio, in the memories of your ornaments, in the joy of watching a child open a present. Open your mind to see God where you may not usually look. And the wilderness of your life may be a beautiful vista, but it also may be a desolate darkness. Regardless of what your wilderness looks like, you can find God there.

Work Referenced
(1) Boring, Eugene M. The New Interpreters Bible Commentary Volume VII. Edited by Leander E. Keck et. al. Abingdon Press: Nashville, 2015, 90.