When Love Shows Up: Weekly Reflections about God’s Presence

Rev. Phil argues that communities should be oriented toward belonging and ensuring everyone has enough, and says that if a country is structured so some are excluded, marginalized, or lack basic needs, that structure is anti-Christ and a misunderstanding of God. He reflects on fears of sounding like a communist and cites Brazilian priest Helder Camara’s quote about being called a saint for feeding the poor but a communist for asking why they are poor, noting that critiques of American capitalism are often dismissed this way and that Martin Luther King Jr. was repeatedly investigated and labeled communist. While rejecting communism as godless, morally relativistic, and historically totalitarian, he also rejects capitalism due to its inequity and, citing Walter Brueggemann, its commodification of human life. He concludes capitalism and communism often operate as two sides of the same coin for those in power and calls Christians to move beyond these binaries toward more just, merciful, inclusive ways of sustaining community.

Rev. Phil introduces a Bible study on Jesus’ parable in Matthew about a landowner who hires vineyard workers throughout the day but pays everyone the same wage, prompting complaints from those who worked longest and a reply emphasizing the owner’s generosity. The Rev. Phil argues the story is often misread as about who goes to heaven after death, but is really about how God sees and wants people to treat each other here and now. “The kingdom of heaven” is described as the reign of God wherever love, justice, mercy, forgiveness, healing, reconciliation, and inclusion occur on Earth. Connecting to a prior discussion of meritocracy, The Rev. Phil says God and the kingdom are not about fairness but about everyone being included, contributing, and having enough, challenging listeners to rethink their ideas of merit and fairness as essential to following Jesus.
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The Rev. Philip DeVaul recounts a conversation with an atheist English teacher who believes in predestination, arguing that people have far less free will than they assume because birth circumstances—place, time, culture, parents, language, beliefs, and DNA—shape not only how choices are made but which choices are available. He applies this to America, rejecting the idea that the nation is or ever was a meritocracy, citing slavery and early voting restrictions, and warns that denying historical realities creates spiritual sickness; loving America requires honestly criticizing it, echoing James Baldwin. He concludes that predestination and free will coexist: we are not blank slates or puppets. Jesus exemplifies this by accepting his destiny while choosing loving, committed action, stewarding privilege for others’ spiritual nourishment rather than defending fairness or preserving privilege.
 
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Rev. Phil reads Psalm 51 (“Create in me a clean heart…sustain in me a generous spirit”) and connects it to learning how to talk about privilege. He argues the strongest defense against privilege—“I’ve struggled too”—is true but distracts from hearing others and keeps oneself at the center, resisting transformation. Privilege is defined not as having an easy life but as society benefiting some people in ways it does not benefit others, illustrated by easily accessing medical help through doctor neighbors. A quote from Newt Gingrich is used to acknowledge the heightened everyday danger and discrimination Black Americans face and how whites underestimate it. Rev. Phil frames acknowledging privilege as a spiritual practice of decentering, listening, solidarity, and love.
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Rev. Phil recounts growing up short, overweight, and later bald, stressing he isn’t ashamed or seeking compliments, and describes being bad at sports and feeling undesirable to girls and out of place among other boys. He shares family upheaval—his parents’ split when he was 13, downsizing, his father moving away and later coming out as gay, and keeping that secret due to school and church—followed by a cross-country move and restarting in a different culture. Though he hustled socially and felt he struggled, he later recognizes significant advantages: always having money, living upper middle class, attending private schools without scholarship, choosing a swanky New England prep school and college, receiving a car, and benefiting from lenient policing, all within an overwhelmingly white bubble. He previews a series on how that bubble has been burst, how he’s tried to rebuild it, and how faith in Jesus is pushing him toward honesty about privilege.
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Rev. Phil reflects on the post-resurrection story where Jesus convinces skeptical disciples, especially Thomas, by showing the nail marks in his hands and the spear wound in his side, emphasizing that these marks remain on his resurrected, “perfect” body. He argues that this challenges the idea that healing means erasing pain or returning to an unblemished past, critiquing Christian spiritual escapism and urging prayer for God’s presence and power “on earth as it is in heaven” so people can partner with God to make the world more just and loving. Using the church’s COVID shutdown and nostalgia for earlier national eras as examples, he insists there is no going back and that wounds are part of identity. He also rejects body-hating theology, affirming the body as holy, unashamedly marked, and a visible sign of grace.
 
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See, to take God’s name in vain is the act of attributing to God that which does not belong to God. You may remember, for instance, the aftermath of the terrorist attacks on our country on September 11, 2001, when Christian leaders Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell publicly mused that these attacks were God’s judgment against our nation for becoming what they called too secular. They said God had lifted the veil of protection from over America so that we might be attacked because we as a country had allowed for abortion, feminism, and acceptance of same-sex relationships. That, my friend, is an example of taking the Lord’s name in vain.   
But we don’t have to go all the way back to 2001. We can stay right here and now. We can watch video of our own Secretary of Defense citing Scripture at a press briefing on the unnecessary, indefensible war on Iran in which our country is currently the aggressor, and is killing thousands of Iranian civilians we claim to be liberating. “Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war and my fingers for battle,” he said, quoting the 144th Psalm as he justified what he calls a Holy War.  
This is blasphemy. This is taking the Lord’s name in vain.  

Rev. Phil re-records an unrecorded sermon for the “When Love Shows Up” podcast, reading John 9 about Jesus healing a man blind from birth and the ensuing interrogation by disciples, neighbors, parents, and Pharisees. He focuses on the disciples’ first question—who sinned—and argues that people still default to deciding who “deserves” suffering or blessing to avoid empathizing with pain. In contrast, Jesus bypasses blame, speaks directly to the man, and “gets his hands dirty” to heal, while others fixate on worthiness and rules instead of the man’s restored life. Rev. Phil notes John’s troubling negative references to “the Jews,” contextualizes them, and insists Christians must resist rising antisemitism as well as Islamophobia and other dehumanizing rhetoric amid current violence, urging a vocation of humanizing, loving, and serving neighbors rather than conquest or blame.

There is nothing holy about war. We do not glorify God when we carpet bomb Tehran. Even if this war were “necessary” – which we all know it is not – we would not be agents of God.  Our Christian duty at this time includes shuddering at the human cost of our actions, mourning our inability to choose diplomacy, and working for real peace for as many people possible as quickly as possible. 
Our actions in Iran are not foretold in the biblical book of Revelation. This is a gross misinterpretation of Scriptures that has sprung from a faulty doctrine that originated just over 100 years ago. It has no connection to historic Christian beliefs, or the teachings of Jesus. The Book of Revelation is not a literal prediction of the end of the world. It was a coded critique of the audience’s contemporary culture and a message of hope meant to remind socially powerless members of a marginalized religious group that God had not forgotten them, that love and justice would prevail – even if it didn’t seem like that was possible.  
The violence in Revelation is a prophetic statement about a culture that depends upon, indulges in, and celebrates violence as a way to achieve so-called peace. That we would interpret this text as an endorsement of our violent acts upon others in Jesus’ name is the baldest irony. 
Have you ever heard the phrase “death cult”? It is used to describe a fringe religious group that is obsessed with and glorifies death. A Christianity that salivates at the possibility of ushering in the end of the world is a death cult. And Christianity was not meant to be a death cult. It has been perverted by some in various ways over the years in order to be understood and practiced as such – but that was never Jesus’ plan, never part of his teachings, and not the desire of his first followers. Exalting in violence and death is not of Christ. Period.

“  ...And then it dawned on me: People will expect me to have something to say about this. I’m the leader of a community that seeks to embody Christ’s loving presence in the real world. In my sermons and my blogs I talk about real world events and how they impact our lives as Christians. I don’t have some huge national audience, but I do speak to and for a particular community and within our little church world, there is expectation that I have something to say. 
And to be fair – there are a good number of people in our congregation that actually expected (or hoped) I would say nothing about it. We have people across the political spectrum in our community that would prefer we never acknowledge, discuss, or spiritually reflect on current events. Millions of Christians understand the church similar to how we were taught about the dinner table – don’t talk about politics.  
I for one find not talking about politics very attractive. I would love never to talk about politics again. Unfortunately for me, religion is and always has been political, and religious adherence is and always has had political implications. I don’t like this any more than you do. Sadly for us, it is only 100% true. 
Anyway I thought to myself, “How I respond to this matters to others.” Which is fine. That’s the job. And also, I was standing there in my little useless body in my little galley kitchen with my hands in my dough and my tears on my cheeks, no less an overwhelmed witness than anyone else who was watching. I was just as confused and scared and broken-hearted as you. “How much time,” I wondered, “will it take before I know what to say?”
 
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