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Nicola Vidamour is a Methodist minister in London, England; editor of Mesto Vstrechi, the Russian edition of The Upper Room

Disciplines: A Book of Daily Devotions is a longstanding—and beloved—resource published by Upper Room Books every year. Each week’s readings are reflections on scripture passages in the lectionary for that period.

In 2013 you can not only read these daily devotions but also comment on them, ask the writer a question, and respond to others who are reading the same material each day. We are looking forward to building a community of Disciplines readers! Just sign in and add your comment in the Comments section following the Monday blog post.

Each Monday an introduction and the initial reading for the week will be posted. Come back to this Monday post throughout the week to continue the conversation about the week’s readings and prayers.

Read Acts 16:16-34

The Methodist Church in Britain has recently produced a new hymnal called Singing the Faith. Charles Wesley, one of the two brothers who started the Methodist movement, was a prolific hymn writer; and Methodists have been well-known from their earliest days for the way in which they sing the faith.

Paul and Silas also sang their faith—even in the middle of the night while locked in prison after receiving a severe flogging. Despite their pain and suffering they still burst into song, offering praise and prayer to God.

It is believed that John Newton, the former slave trader, set the words of his famous hymn “Amazing Grace” to a tune he heard the slaves singing in the galley of a ship. African spirituals give powerful witness to the way in which black Christians have sung their faith in the midst of oppression and injustice.

Paul and Silas are imprisoned because they released a young slave girl from the spirit that possessed her, thus depriving her owners of the money she provided for them. This girl described her emancipators as “slaves of the Most High God.” Paul and Silas are indeed bound and held captive by God as well as by their prison chains; but their singing makes it overwhelmingly clear that their faith gives them a deep sense of freedom.

We sometimes talk about singing that “raises the roof” because of its volume and enthusiasm. When Paul and Silas sing “there was an earthquake so violent that the foundations of the prison were shaken; and immediately all the doors were opened and everyone’s chains were unfastened.” Paul and Silas—and all those who heard them singing their faith—are literally set free. Singing the faith is liberating!
God of freedom, help us to sing our faith until the walls of oppression come tumbling down. Amen.  

I marvel, always, at the story we often read on “Low Sunday,” the Second Sunday of Easter—the appearance of Jesus to the disciples (save Thomas) on the evening of that first Resurrection morning (John 20:1-19). The disciples are locked away, for “fear of the Jews,” and by that the evangelist means the religious authorities who were responsible for Jesus’ death at the hands of the Romans. They are afraid of the Romans too, I imagine.

Perhaps the first point of comparison between us and the text is that many of us are locked away in our own fears, whatever they might be. We ourselves also have heard the joyful news that Jesus is raised from the dead, that the powers that be are no powers at all, that we have no need to fear anything or anyone, but we do not always hear that testimony, or receive that word, or live as if the evangel makes any real difference. I guess that means we are not so different from Thomas.

And isn’t it interesting, that, though he is called Didymus, “the twin,” the fourth evangelist never tells us to whom Thomas is twin? That is because he is twin to each and every one of us. He is our twin, that is to say, mine and yours, because we can too often see in ourselves the same lack of trust Thomas evidences: he doubts not only the report but the reporters! His friends, the ones he has been with for years: he does not trust the testimony of those who say they have seen the Lord, just as we sometimes do not trust what others say to us about their religious experiences. We may trust these people otherwise, but should they tell of a religious experience, some powerful moment of insight or grace, we are unmoved.

Or maybe it is the other way round for you: you have wanted to share, to testify, to spread the word of some great grace God has given; but even your friends do not receive that word. Perhaps you shut down and quit sharing. Sad. Like Moses covering his face before the Israelites because he glowed and it scared people.

The preacher in me wants to say this: Thomas demands proof, but he does not show up in the place where proof might be found. Everybody else got the word, where they were to meet. Everybody else decided to meet together, to share the experience. What else did Thomas have to do? Where else did he have to go? His disbelief of his friends’ testimony came after he refused their invitation to gather. It is pretty self-defeating, this demand: to see Jesus, to touch his hands or side, but not show up where Jesus in fact does. Maybe Thomas believed more than he let on, wanted it to be true, even if the most he could do was just show up. The preacher in me knows that lots of people come to church for just that reason: just in case what is said is true.

Jesus comes. Jesus speaks. Jesus shows, invites Thomas to touch his hands and side. Whether Thomas does or not is unclear.

Today I think this: I am Thomas’ twin (indeed, my own name is Thomas), but he and I are inversely related. That is, he demanded to touch the wound in Jesus’ hands.  I look at my hands and see that they are so wounded, so fisted and clenched, that they can never open—to him or anyone else—unless Jesus touches my hands. Thomas demanded to reach into Jesus’ side. I know my heart is so hard that it will never believe or love or worship unless Jesus reaches into my side to massage my heart. That Thomas would not believe unless he saw Jesus, touched Jesus; this Thomas, so locked away and barricaded, so skeptical and well defended, so in need of what he alone can give—this Thomas cannot believe unless Jesus comes in and touches me, that my doubt may give way to faith and trust.

Author Tom Steagald is working on a new book about prayer for Upper Room Books. Each Wednesday he shares some of his thoughts as the book takes shape. He welcomes your comments.

John Dornheim, a native Long Islander,  was ordained in the ELCA in 1990 and has served congregations in Pennsylvania. In 2001, he transitioned from parish ministry to health care ministry, first serving as the chaplain in a Presbyterian affiliated retirement community in Glen Arm, Maryland, and then as the chaplain at Johns Hopkins Bayview Medical Center, Baltimore. Most recently he has served as the Protestant Campus Pastor at Long Island University, Greenvale, NY. At the present time he is involved in the establishment of an inclusive faith community, ministering to the none, nominals, and nomads as well as other people who have been disaffected by the church at one time but still have a spiritual hunger. Dornheim has also been a community activBio.

Read Acts 9:1-20
The day stretches out, full of promise like so many others before it. Nothing will deter Saul from his task. He is, after all, a professional, a professional persecutor, a man on a mission—no one is safe. Or so he thinks. However, he underestimates the God he serves.
Often religious fanatics, extremists, start out with the best intentions, but then they begin to believe that they can do better, that they know better. Sometimes they set out to build a better mousetrap.
Saul is in for a rude awakening. He has spent a great deal of time developing his vision of the work that God intends that he do. Saul is not the first to put his imprimatur on God’s work; but in that post-Resurrection era, he may have been the most ruthless. Taking his cue from the Pharisees, he sought to be a Pharisee par excellence. Wrapped in the cloak of the law rather than being warmed by the gospel, he acknowledges the work to be done. The death of Jesus has not squelched the movement, and he finds himself determined to erase from the face of the earth all of Jesus’ adherents who sought to keep the message alive. After all, God has called him to do this; it has become his all-consuming vision.
In order to correct that vision, God takes the drastic step of dimming Saul’s sight, even to the point of blinding him for three days. That might not seem like a long time considering the number of years that Saul has persecuted Christians. At the right moment, God sends Ananias to Saul to help guide him to the Light. The eyes of Saul have been shut, but now those eyes will see God’s purposes more clearly.
Think about a time in your life when your understanding of God’s plan proved wrong. Whom did God send to assist you?

Disciplines: A Book of Daily Devotions is a longstanding—and beloved—resource published by Upper Room Books every year. Each week’s readings are reflections on scripture passages in the lectionary for that period.

In 2013 you can not only read these daily devotions but also comment on them, ask the writer a question, and respond to others who are reading the same material each day. We are looking forward to building a community of Disciplines readers! Just sign in and add your comment in the Comments section following the Monday blog post.

Each Monday an introduction and the initial reading for the week will be posted. Come back to this Monday post throughout the week to continue the conversation about the week’s readings and prayers. How do they strike you? What insights or questions do these reflections raise in your mind and heart? Where do the scriptures this week intersect with what is happening in your world?

Holly Miller is the author of 14 books, included a textbook on magazine writing. She teaches at Anderson University and is a publications consultant to Lilly Endowment, the Center for Congregations and In Trust.

Read Acts 5:27-32
Depending on the situation, we might view persons who practice civil disobedience as activists, heroes, and martyrs. Or, if we don’t agree with their cause, we might dismiss them as dissidents, troublemakers, and rebels. Paul urges us to “be subject to the governing authorities” and warns that “whoever resists authority resists what God has appointed” (Rom. 13:1-2 ). His rationale is that God has chosen society’s leaders; therefore, they are worthy of our obedience. But what happens when a leader’s word seems at odds with God’s word? Which takes priority?

The apostles clearly defy local authorities when they continue to preach and perform miracles after the high priest has ordered them to stop. Does their defiance make them heroes or rebels? martyrs or dissidents? “We must obey God rather than any human authority,” explains Peter, who has no misgivings about standing firm against the governing council. The apostles bear witness to God’s work in history through Jesus Christ to those who bear some responsibility for his death. They courageously stand before the council stating that Jesus was raised by the God of Israel; God has exalted him as an act of mercy toward Israel and will offer repentance and forgiveness to Israel.

The apostles’ unshakable faith and Spirit-filled lives affirm their understanding of accountability to a higher power. God has commissioned them to carry on the work of Jesus Christ, and nothing will deter them from that assignment.

History is replete with persons who risked their lives for the faith. Like the apostles, they adhered to their principles even if civil disobedience meant incarceration or death. We tell and retell their stories to encourage a new generation of activists, heroes, and martyrs.

Lord, may we never confuse human laws with your law. May we respect the former but worship the latter. Amen.