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Many of us learned, implicitly or explicitly, that to feel spiritual is to feel calm, grateful, trusting, and or at peace. When anger rises, when sadness lingers, when jealousy or fear take hold, we may quietly assume we have fallen out of God’s presence. We try to correct ourselves, suppress what we feel, or wait until we are “better” before we pray again.

Yet Scripture tells a different story.

The Psalms are filled not with polished serenity but with raw emotion. “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?” (Psalm 13:1). “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me?” (Psalm 42:5). These words are not signs of spiritual failure; they are evidence of relationship. The psalmist brings anger, despair, fear, and jealousy directly into God’s presence—refusing to pretend, refusing to withdraw.

Even Jesus does not withhold difficult emotions from God. In Gethsemane he confesses, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death” (Matthew 26:38). On the cross he cries, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1; Matthew 27:46). Scripture does not sanitize the interior life of faith; it sanctifies it by telling the truth.

What often troubles us is not just the emotion itself, but the tension we feel when strong emotion coexists with longing for God. We may think, If I were closer to God, I wouldn’t feel this way. But Scripture suggests the opposite: this very tension may be the signal that God is near and drawing us into deeper love.

Paul writes, “The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words” (Romans 8:26). Our sighing, our unrest, our ache is not an obstacle to communion—it is already prayer. Desire that persists in pain is not absence; it is participation.

Jealousy, fear, anger, and sorrow often arise where love matters most. God does not shame these places but meets them. Again and again, God speaks tenderly to those caught in inner conflict: “Do not be afraid, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine” (Isaiah 43:1). The reassurance is not offered after fear disappears, but while it is still present.

When we notice difficult emotions and feel a yearning for God at the same time, something important is happening. This is not divided loyalty; it is the soul waking up. The yearning itself is evidence of grace. As the psalmist says, “Deep calls to deep at the thunder of your cataracts” (Psalm 42:7). God’s depth meets our depth—not just our clarity or strength, but our confusion and ache.

Jesus names this paradox as blessedness: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled” (Matthew 5:6). Hunger is not fullness, yet it is the condition for receiving. Desire that aches is already oriented toward love.

What God seems to be showing us, again and again, is not how to feel less, but how to be loved more—in what we feel. The invitation of Scripture is not to resolve our inner life before approaching God, but to bring it whole. “Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7). All means all.

In this way, difficult emotions become a doorway rather than a dead end. They reveal where we are still alive, still attached, still longing. And when that longing turns toward God—even faintly—it becomes a sign not of spiritual failure, but of a love large enough to meet us exactly where we are.

Each of us carries a sense—an inner whisper, perhaps even a holy prompting—that something in our lives is off track. Jesus says, “Look at the birds of the air.” They do not fret or store away, yet their loving Father cares for them. And we respond, “I want that kind of faith,” even as we save more money, spend more money, set more goals—and quietly continue building the prison.

Jesus’ encounter with the rich young ruler exposes just how carefully constructed that prison has become, and how diligently we maintain it. Within it lies something we have almost—but not entirely—obliterated: a deep knowing we all have. It is the recognition that much of our life is a weary chasing after what can never truly satisfy.

The Gospel tells us that the rich young ruler walks away sad. He decides not to do what Jesus invites him to do: “Sell all you have, give to the poor, and come follow me.” The rich young ruler walks away in sadness, his sadness tied to his great wealth, his position, his (dis?) comforts. And if we are honest, we often walk away sad for the same reason—because of what we possess, or what we long to possess, the accumulated “stuff” of life, including our positions. Our possessions do indeed possess us.

Yet the sadness persists, thankfully.

The chase may never end. Over time, it becomes our own finely engineered confinement. And deep down, we know this: we hold the key to unlock the door. Still, we are afraid of freedom. We fear what might be asked of us on the other side of those walls—beyond the bars, locks, and gates.

Here, at least, we know the rules. We understand the system we’ve built. We even know the warden—how he behaves, what he demands, what he allows. And though the warden is harsh, he is predictable. And we’ve had help along the way, watching and learning from other more experienced prison builders, more complacent fellow inmates, beholden to the warden and the system.

Love is not predictable.

Love says unsettling, unreasonable things: “Go—I will show you.”

“Sell what you have, give to the poor, and come follow me.”

“Love one another.”

“Have compassion for those in need.”

“Be merciful—to all.”

Love invites us to freedom with a steady drumbeat of inner sadness. May we each listen to that drumbeat until we’re able to be brave enough to use the key of Love, we’ve always had, to open the door.

Love opens us to freedom.

This blog is adapted from a message delivered on Sept 28, 2025

I think I’ll come clean right up front with you… for months now, in my prayers and quiet times, this story has kept showing up. You know how that happens? You’re not looking for it, but there it is again. So I’d go to Luke 16, read it, pray, and ask God, “What am I supposed to take from this? What am I to do with this?”

And every time, I’d walk away with… discomfort. A kind of unsettled feeling. Not sure what the takeaway was supposed to be. So I’d check the box: “Okay, Lord, I looked it up, I read it, but I’m not finding the clarity I want—so that’s on you. You’ll show me when you’re ready.”

But then, the next time, the story would show up again. And again, I’d come away restless. “Alright, God, just give me a roadmap. Give me the shortest route, like Siri or Waze. Make it convenient, make it efficient. Just spell it out.”

And then about a month ago, when I sat down to prepare this very message, I opened the lectionary. Jeremiah, Amos—hard-hitting but doable. Couple Psalms—always promising. Timothy—Paul always liked Timothy. But then I got distracted, walked away from the screen.

When I came back… what were my eyes drawn to? Yes. The gospel reading. Today’s gospel reading: Luke 16. The story of the rich man and Lazarus.

I thought: “Say it ain’t so.”

Clearly, some guidance. At least for me. And I hope, maybe for you too.

Our Desire for a Boss

If you’re like me, you’ve prayed something like this before: “God, show me what to do. I’ll do whatever you want—just be clear!”

What it seems, at times, we want Jesus as our benevolent boss. Our cosmic answer man. Ideally He covers the big stuff, keeps us comfortable, handles the problems, and smites the bad guys.

And too… sometimes clear and simple guidance and the encouragement to do the right thing. Just tell me what to do, Lord, and if it’s too difficult or inconvenient, maybe you could just handle it?

And Jesus responds, “Nah. You’ve got this. Love your neighbor. Carry a cross. Serve the least of these.”

And we say, “Uh… thanks. But is there an  easier option?

The Rich Man and Lazarus

And that’s where this story comes in.

The rich man, dressed in purple, feasting every day. Lazarus, poor and sick, lying at his gate, covered in sores. Dogs licking his wounds.

The rich man is living the dream—maximum comfort, zero responsibility. And Lazarus is literally right there. The rich man doesn’t even have to travel to find someone to love. But he ignores him.

Then comes the great reversal. Both men die… Lazarus is carried by angels to Abraham’s side—eternal comfort. The rich man ends up in torment. And suddenly he’s the beggar.

Our Human Hope?

Now here’s the kicker. We hear that story and think: “Okay, Jesus, spell out the rules. Give me the checklist so I don’t end up like that guy.”

We look to Jesus to be our director, our boss, again. “What’s the minimum requirement? What if I say yes and then don’t like it?  Just tell me what to do, and I’ll sign up.”

But Jesus isn’t handing out rules. He’s showing us reality: if we live only for ourselves, we’ll end up empty. If we sacrifice for others, we’ll know God. I think that’s important for us in this story. The negative outcomes of this story is a clear message that if we’re seeking God, and feel like we’re lost, simply look around your life and find the Lazarus that needs to be cared for. Easier said than done sometimes. 

Because as Jesus reminds us … God’s kingdom is in our midst, and their story asks that we pay attention to the needs in our orbit. Not someone else’s path or gate or driveway but someone nearby. 

Cross vs. Comfort

The rich man chose comfort—the purple robe, the feasts, the “someone else will deal with Lazarus.” It left him empty.

Lazarus carried the cross—the suffering, the humiliation—and he found God’s comfort.

And Jesus is saying: you need not wait any longer.. The gate is here. Lazarus is here. The kingdom is here.

Some reflection.. 

So, over the years, I’ve tried in various ways to respond when I see needs… and at times I’ve just flat out missed them. 

In brief, I’ve tried to be aware of “Lazarus in my driveway”, or along my path and have tried in different ways to respond… I haven’t always been responsive and I pray that as Ive gotten older I’ve become more attentive. 

I’ve realized too that the amount of input we receive can sometimes overwhelm us leading us to worry about things outside our control in lieu of taking care of the situation right in front of us. It’s a human challenge we need to prayerfully pay attention to. 

There was the time years ago at McDonalds when a man approached me to ask for money to buy soup across the street.. and I said I’ll buy you something to eat here to which he first walked away and then returned to say a filet o fish might be okay… to this day I wonder did I give my brother a rock when he asked for soup? 

Then there was the time in Chicago, my son who was 10 at the time and I were walking to  get back for a train to the burbs when we passed a number of people asking for money – my son was and is to this day willing to share his own money, time, heart with others – which was and is a great example to me. That day, as we walked, I knew I only had a 20 left in my wallet, so I secretly hoped we might not see another person in need but alas, steps away from union station, my sons attention to Lazarus opened my heart and wallet too. 

I’m not suggesting this, paying attention to Lazarus, is easy to do and with all the communications we receive and the often dubious information, it is sometimes tough to know who to respond to and how to respond. What is clear is that we are all called to pay attention and respond compassionately as Jesus would. 

Jesus the Servant

Rather than wondering, let me invite you into a  quiet time of prayerful reflection today where each of us can ask for guidance from our Loving God. 

Loving God as you’ve demonstrated through Jesus, washing feet, eating with outcasts, dying on a cross, loving each of us. Show us today how we might “lose our life for your sake so we might find truth and love – show us the way Lord, show us your way.”

(Silence)

Anything come to you in prayer, you’d be willing to share? 

God’s Love Everywhere

Now, here’s the good news! God’s love is for both Lazarus and the rich man.

Jesus tells this story not to gloat over the rich man’s fate, but to wake him up. To say: “look around See Lazarus”. You will find God’s love in him. Don’t delay and don’t get distracted.”

That’s the part we often miss. We want God to be the decider of rewards and punishments. But God isn’t running an empire. God is love. Love in our midst. And love points us to sacrifice for one another. 

So Jesus is saying: you want to know God? Sit with Lazarus. Share your bread. Wash feet. Carry the cross. That’s where Christ dwells. 

Closing Comments

So maybe it comes down to this…

We want comfort and clarity.

God offers crosses and resurrection.

We want Jesus the benevolent boss and hero.

Jesus insists on being our servant, as a model for us to serve others. 

We want the throne.

He gives us a foot towel.

We want the answers.

He gives us each other.

In the end, the way to know God’s comfort and presence is to notice the Lazarus at our gate, accept the cross we are to carry, and let the love we know keep pouring out, day by day.

[Pause.]

Join me in prayer…

Loving God…surround us with your love, help us be your instruments of healing and peace in this world. Help us to be attentive to the Lazarus of our life and help us to respond to those needs so that all of us might experience your love more and more. Guide us today and each day as you teach us to pray. In Jesus name, Amen. 

When God draws near, His presence is not only known in the soul but also felt in the body. Scripture bears witness to trembling, burning hearts, opened eyes, loosened tongues, radiant faces, and renewed strength. These are signs of the temple of the body being cleansed, consecrated, and filled with God’s glory.

The Song of Songs gives a poetic vision of this embodied union: longing, awakening, fragrance, and the indwelling of the Beloved.

The Head & Face – Radiance of Glory

“His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became white as light.” (Matthew 17:2 – Transfiguration) “The glory of the LORD shone around them, and they were filled with great fear.” (Luke 2:9) “Tongues as of fire appeared to them and rested on each one of them.” (Acts 2:3 – Pentecost) “The king is held captive by your tresses.” (Song of Songs 7:5 – crowned beauty)

Sign: God clothes His people with light, crowning them with His glory and delight.

The Eyes – Scales Falling, Sight Restored

“Immediately, something like scales fell from Saul’s eyes, and he regained his sight.” (Acts 9:18) “Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him.” (Luke 24:31 – Emmaus) “Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men shall see visions, your old men shall dream dreams.” (Acts 2:17, Joel 2:28) “I saw visions of God.” (Ezekiel 1:1) “Your eyes are doves.” (Song of Songs 1:15; 4:1)

Sign: God removes veils and blockages, granting vision to see with purity and understanding.

The Mouth & Breath – Cleansed Lips, New Speech

“Then I said, ‘Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips…yet my eyes have seen the King.’” (Isaiah 6:5) “Then one of the seraphim touched my mouth and said: ‘Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away.’” (Isaiah 6:7) “They were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit gave them utterance.” (Acts 2:4) “His word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones, I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.” (Jeremiah 20:9) “Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride; milk and honey are under your tongue.” (Song of Songs 4:11)

Sign: God purifies lips and breath, filling them with sweetness, prophecy, and Spirit-filled praise.

The Heart – Burning with Love

“Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road?” (Luke 24:32) “The love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit.” (Romans 5:5) “A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you.” (Ezekiel 36:26) “Place me like a seal over your heart…for love is strong as death, its fire is a blazing flame.” (Song of Songs 8:6)

Sign: God sets the heart aflame with holy love, unquenchable and eternal.

The Inner Being – Rivers of Living Water

“Out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.” (John 7:38, KJV) “My heart is troubled, and what shall I say?” (John 12:27 – the stirring before surrender) “I have food to eat that you do not know about.” (John 4:32 – divine nourishment) “A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and streams from Lebanon.” (Song of Songs 4:15)

Sign: God fills the innermost depths with streams of living water, cleansing and renewing.

The Loins & Strength – Generative Power

“Gird up your loins like a man; I will question you, and you make it known to me.” (Job 38:3) “Out of your womb will come a ruler who will shepherd my people.” (Matthew 2:6) “May your fountain be blessed, and may you rejoice in the wife of your youth.” (Proverbs 5:18) “Your navel is a rounded goblet that never lacks blended wine. Your belly is a heap of wheat encircled with lilies.” (Song of Songs 7:2)

Sign: God blesses strength, fruitfulness, and generativity for His purposes.

The Whole Body – Trembling and Renewal

“My body trembles; my lips quiver at the sound; rottenness enters into my bones, my legs tremble beneath me.” (Habakkuk 3:16) “I fell at his feet as though dead.” (Revelation 1:17 – John’s vision of Christ) “Daniel…no strength remained in me; my radiant appearance was fearfully changed, and I retained no strength.” (Daniel 10:8) “When the guards saw him, they trembled and became like dead men.” (Matthew 28:4) “The Spirit of the LORD came mightily upon him, and he tore the lion apart with his bare hands.” (Judges 14:6 – Samson’s empowerment) “When I found the one my soul loves, I held him and would not let him go.” (Song of Songs 3:4)

Sign: The body, overwhelmed by God’s presence, trembles, falls, and rises renewed in love and strength.

The Temple Cleansed and Filled

From Paul’s scales falling, to hearts burning, to trembling before the Holy One, Scripture reveals that the body is a living temple. The Song of Songs shows the Beloved entering the garden of the soul, awakening love, fragrance, and union.

“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God?” (1 Corinthians 6:19)

When the temple is cleansed and filled, the whole person—head to heart, breath to bones—becomes a vessel of divine glory.

Gandhi’s words—“Live simply so that others may simply live”—hold a piercing truth. The choices we make each day ripple outward. I often find myself caught in the tension: Do I choose the convenience, the comfort, the upgrade… or do I live with less so that someone else may have enough?

It is not an easy struggle. When I stand in a store debating over what I “need,” I know that, at the very same moment, there are neighbors in my city and around the world wondering if they will eat tonight. My comforts are not neutral—they exist in a world where there is plenty of food and resources for all yet are unevenly dispersed.

Jesus reminds us:

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:21) “Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will never fail.” (Luke 12:33)

And the prophet Isaiah warns against excess while others suffer:

“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice… to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter?” (Isaiah 58:6–7)

Living simply does not mean rejecting joy or beauty—it means refusing to let comfort numb us to compassion. It means saying no to some of what the world tells us we “deserve” so we can say yes to what God asks of us: mercy, generosity, justice.

As Thomas à Kempis wrote, “Do not be concerned about who is with you or against you, but take care that God is with you in everything you do.” God is with us when we choose the harder path of simplicity for the sake of love.

The Apostle Paul captures the heart of it:

“Let each of you look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.” (Philippians 2:4)

When I wrestle with my decisions—comfort for me or life for another—I remember Christ, who “emptied himself” (Philippians 2:7) for the sake of the world. He shows us that true life is found not in grasping more, but in giving more away.