Dear Friends,

Christ is risen!
(I said that aloud when I typed it, and I hope you’ll say, “Christ is risen, indeed!” - at least under your breath - when you read this page! thx.)

My sister builds bridges. And by that I mean actual bridges. The ones made of rebar, concrete and steel and with lanes, pilings, guardrails, cables and such. The kind cars, trucks, bikes and pedestrians use to traverse roads, waterways, valleys and whatever else someone might want to cross.

First time I saw one of her bridges in action - I think it was the one in the photo at the top of this post - I was quietly awestruck. I mean, she’s my little sister, for crying out loud; there are stories I could tell! (Then again, there are stories she could tell, so I’ll keep her stories to myself, thankyouverymuch.) When Sister pointed out her bridge, there were cars speeding across even as boats were gliding underneath. I wasn’t exactly wondering whether the bridge would hold up to the traffic, but I wasn’t exactly not wondering that, either - knowwhatImean? Within a few split seconds, the bridge became a bridge in a very different way. As though by seeing the bridge she’d built, Sister grew in stature, respect, competence and bravery right before my eyes. She crossed a metaphorical bridge from baby sister to superwoman engineer with just one glance at the Clearwater Memorial Causeway.

All this bridge talk came crashing in when I started my study for Sunday’s sermon when we’ll take up Philippians 4:1-9.

In the preface to his commentary on Philippians, Fred Craddock writes, “By its very nature a letter both witnesses to the distance between a writer and a reader and, with few exceptions, seeks to bridge that distance.” (Interpretation: Philippians, p. vii.) Today, letters like Philippians bridge the contemporary church back to the early church. How did those early Christians wrestle with, interpret and put into action the teachings of Jesus? How did they try to bear witness to the good news that the Lord is risen!? (You know what you need to do... C’mon, saaaay it!) What comfort, correction or courage might we now be able to draw from Paul’s instructions to those early church folk?

In that same Preface Craddock actually urges readers of his commentary “to delay the rush to commentaries until Philippians is read (preferably aloud) for what it is: a letter.” And that’s an audacious recommendation that begs us to let the text itself be the bridge that connects us to the writer (Paul) as well as the congregation (at Philippi) to whom he wrote.

So, that’s what I’m going to do: read the book of Philippians. It’s only about 300 words longer than the sermon I preached on Easter and its about 300 words shorter than Psalm 119 (the longest chapter in our scriptures). Any chance you’ll give Philippians a read as a way to get ready for Sunday?

Peace,

Lisa

Photo by Andrew Heneen on Wikimedia Commons