Baptism Of The Lord / First Sunday After The Epiphany / First Sunday In Ordinary Time
Preaching
Lectionary Preaching Workbook
Series VIII, Cycle A
Object:
Theme For The Day
Through Jesus Christ, God offers us the most important blessing of our lives.
Old Testament Lesson
Isaiah 42:1-9
The First Servant Song
Today and next Sunday, the lectionary presents the first and second of the four Servant Songs from Second Isaiah. The third (Isaiah 50:4-9a) occurs on the Sixth Sunday in Lent, and the fourth (52:13-- 53:12) occurs on Good Friday. The identity of the servant is, of course, one of the great unresolved debates among biblical scholars: whether he is a particular individual, an idealized figure symbolic of either the whole nation of Israel, or the righteous remnant. Because the church has traditionally looked on the Servant Songs as referring to Jesus, the lectionary matches this text with Matthew's account of Jesus' baptism -- a significant moment of disclosure of his identity and calling. The Servant is individually set apart by God and is the recipient of God's spirit (v. 1). There is some mention of sacrifice ("growing faint" and being "crushed") but not until he has established justice in the earth (v. 4). God commissions the Servant to open blind eyes and free prisoners (v. 7) -- language later used by Jesus himself to describe his own mission (Matthew 11:4-5). Significantly, the mission of the Servant transcends Israel: "he will bring forth justice to the nations" (v. 1) -- although the Hebrew word, mishpat, can sometimes be translated "judgment" as well as "justice."
New Testament Lesson
Acts 10:34-43
Peter Proclaims The Faith
To the Centurion, Cornelius, Peter speaks these words of proclamation, which are a capsule summary of the Christian gospel. They include the words, "God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power" -- a reference to Jesus' baptism -- which is probably why this passage was chosen for this Sunday (v. 38). His message begins with the lesson recently revealed to him in a vision (10:9-16): that "God shows no partiality," favoring neither Jew nor Gentile (v. 34). "We are witnesses (martyres)" to the things God has done, in Christ -- indeed, this is the commission of the church, to be witnesses (v. 39). God has "chosen" the apostles for this task (v. 41) but, in a larger sense, they have entrusted their witness to others to communicate (as, indeed, Peter himself is doing in this sermon).
The Gospel
Matthew 3:13-17
The Baptism Of Jesus
One of the strongest traditions in the church is that of Jesus' baptism at the hand of John the Baptist. It is attested in all four gospels and was observed on a feast day -- The Baptism of the Lord -- that was one of the most significant festivals of the early church (although, in most modern churches, it has become but a minor blip on the liturgical radar screen). Yet, the baptism of Jesus is also a troublesome tradition: for it raises two difficult questions the church has struggled, equally long, to answer. The first question is whether, in receiving baptism from John, Jesus is somehow subordinating himself to this older prophetic figure. The second is the question why Jesus has to be baptized at all -- for if, as orthodox theology states, Jesus was without sin, then why does he need to undergo this rite of repentance? Here, Matthew wrestles explicitly with the first of these questions, and comes up with his own unique answer. Responding to the problem of the seeming subordination of Jesus, Matthew has John object, as soon as he sees Jesus, that it is improper for him to perform the baptism (v. 14). This hesitation on John's part is unique to Matthew's account. Jesus himself, in Matthew's telling, supplies the solution to the conundrum: he has come to the river in order "to fulfill all righteousness" (v. 15). That same answer can be used to address the second question as well: that of why a sinless Jesus needs to receive baptism. The answer is, he doesn't. Yet, we need him to do so in order that all righteousness may be fulfilled. According to this line of reasoning, Jesus' baptism is more important to us than it was to him, and it was especially so for the early church, which was struggling with the question of who belonged to the Christian community and who did not. The answer to the question is simple: it is whomever has been baptized in his name. The divine benediction -- "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased" -- is addressed, here in Matthew's version, to everyone who is present (v. 17). This is different from Mark's and Luke's versions (which have God speaking to Jesus alone) and also from John's (that has God addressing John privately). Matthew's point is that the entire event is God's doing, and takes place publicly, in order that we may witness it and, thereby, learn something important about Jesus.
Preaching Possibilities
It must have been pretty hard on old Esau.
There he came, shuffling up to dear-old-Dad Isaac, holding out a steaming pot of stew, like an offering to the gods. The meat was freshly killed, no less; Esau had been out hunting!
There he came, fully expecting a blessing from his father. And not only a blessing the blessing... the big one, the deathbed blessing, the one that (to the people of that day) really mattered.
"Tough luck, Esau," says dear-old-Dad, full of sympathy (for he's been hoodwinked just as thoroughly as Esau). "Jacob got here first, masquerading as you. He beat you to it. The blessing's gone out, and I can't take it back."
Poor, Esau! He's from a dysfunctional family. Nowhere does this become more real to us than in these poignant words: "Esau said to his father, 'Have you only one blessing, father? Bless me, me also, father!' And Esau lifted up his voice and wept."
There are plenty of people who could weep with him. There are many who have likewise sought the Blessing but have never received it. The blessing is meant to be handed out to children by their parents, when the time is right: when the driver's license is earned, the diploma received, the engagement ring given, the first baby brought home from the hospital.
There's not any single occasion for giving it; in reality, it's given again and again, in progressive stages, as parents say to their children, "Hey you're all right... You've done a nice job... You're mine, and I love you."
The blessing is part of the essential equipment for striking out on one's own. It can't be packed in a suitcase, or hung in a frame upon a wall or hermetically sealed in a special box and stored in the attic. No, the blessing can't be held onto except in the heart and mind and memory. Yet, it's an essential part of life's traveling kit, all the same.
Those who have sought to leave home without the blessing find themselves in much the same predicament as the Prodigal Son, in Jesus' famous parable. "Even the pigs are porking out better than me," the Prodigal complains, picking pig-pod fiber from between his teeth. "I'll just go back to dear-old-Dad. He may not bless me, but at least he'll put me on the payroll."
In Jesus' parable, of course, the father does much more than simply put the prodigal on the payroll. He welcomes him home with open arms! He blesses him, in other words.
The father in that parable is God -- and God's noted for that sort of thing. But it doesn't happen so readily in the typical dysfunctional family. There are some who have returned home, again and again -- even well into adulthood -- hoping for the parental blessing that never comes. There are some who have wept with Esau and continue to do so.
John the Baptist is knee-deep in river water when he looks up and sees Jesus, picking his way down the bank. At first, John feels like withholding the baptismal blessing -- but for a very different reason. "I need to be baptized by you," he says, "and do you come to me?"
But, John goes ahead and baptizes his cousin anyway. Arm around his shoulder, he eases him backward into the cool, running water allowing Jesus to experience that brief moment of panic, that little death, and then the sweet, fresh air of breath restored. Then, there comes a voice out of heaven: "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."
Jesus receives the Blessing, anyway -- not by way of John, but straight from the top. Why does he even need to do it? That's what John's wondering, as he tries, at first, to refuse the baptism. Doesn't the Son of God know he's already blessed -- and has been blessed, ever since that star hovered over Bethlehem?
We'll never know for sure why Jesus wants to be baptized -- but, it just may have something to do with the fact that he's human, as well as divine. It's only human, after all, to crave the Blessing. If Jesus, son of the most high God, is going to have the full human experience, he has to know the ache of a blessing unreceived. And, he has to know the thrill of receiving it at last.
"This is my Son, the beloved, in whom I am well pleased." Maybe Jesus needs to hear those words before he can set out on his life's work. They're words we all need to hear, as well: "This is my son, the beloved; this is my daughter, the beloved."
It's a blessing offered to us every time we come to worship.
Prayer For The Day
Lord, there is a place deep within us,
a dark place, a secret place.
In that place, we hunger,
and have done so since our earliest days.
There is no human love,
no mortal benediction
that can satisfy that yearning.
Only your love can do that.
Come into our lives, through your Son, Jesus:
bless us with your unfailing blessing --
for, truly, our hearts are restless
until they rest in you. Amen.
To Illustrate
There is a fable that illustrates what sort of impact the blessing can have upon a life. It's a story about a fabulously wealthy king, who has a son he adores. The boy is bright and handsome, perfect in every way, except one: he has a hunchback.
This saddens the king to no end. He proclaims that a rich treasure will go to the person who figures out how to heal the boy's back. Months and months pass without a solution. The wisest thinkers and most learned scholars travel to the palace from afar. But no one knows what to do.
Finally, a wise, old woman happens into the kingdom and hears about the problem. "I want nothing of your treasure," she says; "but I do have the answer to your problem."
The old woman directs the king to build a statue in the center of the palace courtyard an exact replica of his son but with one exception: its back must be perfectly straight. "That's all you have to do," she assures him. "Trust God for the healing."
The king's artisans set to work, and in no time, a beautiful marble sculpture sat in the center of the courtyard. Every day, as the little boy played, he studied the figure in admiration. He started to say to himself, "That's me! It looks exactly like me."
Little by little, the boy's back straightened. The day came when the king gazed out at the prince, frolicking in the garden and realized his son's back was totally healed. The boy's identification with the statue was so complete that he has come to believe it was him, straight back and all. His body obeys his belief.
***
I like to consider this (the baptism) Jesus' first miracle: the miracle of his humility. The first thing Jesus does for us is go down with us. His whole life will be like this. It is well known that Jesus ended his career on a cross between two thieves; it deserves to be as well known that he began his ministry in a river among penitent sinners.
-- Dale Bruner
***
I think half the troubles for which men go slouching in prayer to God are caused by their intolerable pride. Many of our cares are but a morbid way of looking at our privileges. We let our blessings get moldy, and then call them curses.
-- Henry Ward Beecher
***
To bless means to say good things. We have to bless one another constantly. Parents need to bless their children, children their parents, husbands their wives, wives their husbands, friends their friends. In our society, so full of curses, we must fill each place we enter with our blessings. We forget so quickly that we are God's beloved children and allow the many curses of our world to darken our hearts. Therefore we have to be reminded of our belovedness and remind others of theirs. Whether the blessing is given in words or with gestures, in a solemn or an informal way, our lives need to be blessed lives.
-- Henri J.M. Nouwen, Bread For The Journey (HarperCollins, 1997)
***
Every man is trying to live up to his father's expectations and to make up for his mistakes.
-- Lyndon B. Johnson
***
On my desk in New York sits a photograph of a seven-year-old boy. He's wearing a pair of glasses, a freshly ironed shirt buttoned to the neck, and his best smile. I placed that picture on my desk at the suggestion of a friend who understood that, as someone who grew up fundamentalist, I was having a difficult time finding my way as an adult. Just look at that picture of yourself as a child, he suggested, and try to recall what it was like to be that child.
For weeks, the only response that picture inspired in me was laughter. The photograph was taken in 1961, and all my hair was chopped off. That, combined with the spectacles perched awkwardly on my nose, made for a comic figure.
But then one morning, while seated at my desk, it all came back. In 1961, we lived in a parsonage next to the church out in the farm country of southern Minnesota, and there was nothing in the world more important to me than baseball. One day my father returned from town with a plastic bat and ball. "Let's play ball," he said. I couldn't have been more excited, in part because I knew, even then, that my father had no interest whatsoever in sports of any kind. I recall what happened next as though it were yesterday. After swinging wildly at a couple of pitches, I decided to let a few go by.
Somehow, even in first grade, I had learned enough about baseball to know that four balls constituted a walk and, perhaps to save myself the embarrassment of swinging and missing more pitches, I elected to draw a base on balls.
"Well, what's the point of all this?" my father huffed. "If you don't swing I'm just wasting my time." He tossed the ball in my direction, turned, and headed back to his study.
We never played ball again.
I tell that story not to elicit sympathy and certainly not to suggest that my father acted out of malice, for I realize now that he brought his own brokenness to his role as parent. Yet it would be difficult to overestimate the loneliness and abandonment felt by the kid in glasses. I relate that story because, just a bit more than halfway through my allotted three-score-and-ten years, I have come to believe that we, all of us in the community of faith, have stories to tell. "We are healed by our stories," Terry Tempest Williams declares. And perhaps, through luck or coincidence or even grace, my story might help you understand your story.
As I stared at the picture on my desktop and remembered that breezy Minnesota afternoon, I began to realize that, throughout my life, my perception of God was very much tied to my childish perception of my father -- distant and austere, disapproving and abandoning. Psychologists call this conditional love. I will love you, provided that you meet my conditions. And if you fail at any time to live up to my expectations, I will withhold that love.
-- Randall Balmer, Growing Pains: Learning to Love My Father's Faith (Brazos Press, 2001)
Through Jesus Christ, God offers us the most important blessing of our lives.
Old Testament Lesson
Isaiah 42:1-9
The First Servant Song
Today and next Sunday, the lectionary presents the first and second of the four Servant Songs from Second Isaiah. The third (Isaiah 50:4-9a) occurs on the Sixth Sunday in Lent, and the fourth (52:13-- 53:12) occurs on Good Friday. The identity of the servant is, of course, one of the great unresolved debates among biblical scholars: whether he is a particular individual, an idealized figure symbolic of either the whole nation of Israel, or the righteous remnant. Because the church has traditionally looked on the Servant Songs as referring to Jesus, the lectionary matches this text with Matthew's account of Jesus' baptism -- a significant moment of disclosure of his identity and calling. The Servant is individually set apart by God and is the recipient of God's spirit (v. 1). There is some mention of sacrifice ("growing faint" and being "crushed") but not until he has established justice in the earth (v. 4). God commissions the Servant to open blind eyes and free prisoners (v. 7) -- language later used by Jesus himself to describe his own mission (Matthew 11:4-5). Significantly, the mission of the Servant transcends Israel: "he will bring forth justice to the nations" (v. 1) -- although the Hebrew word, mishpat, can sometimes be translated "judgment" as well as "justice."
New Testament Lesson
Acts 10:34-43
Peter Proclaims The Faith
To the Centurion, Cornelius, Peter speaks these words of proclamation, which are a capsule summary of the Christian gospel. They include the words, "God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power" -- a reference to Jesus' baptism -- which is probably why this passage was chosen for this Sunday (v. 38). His message begins with the lesson recently revealed to him in a vision (10:9-16): that "God shows no partiality," favoring neither Jew nor Gentile (v. 34). "We are witnesses (martyres)" to the things God has done, in Christ -- indeed, this is the commission of the church, to be witnesses (v. 39). God has "chosen" the apostles for this task (v. 41) but, in a larger sense, they have entrusted their witness to others to communicate (as, indeed, Peter himself is doing in this sermon).
The Gospel
Matthew 3:13-17
The Baptism Of Jesus
One of the strongest traditions in the church is that of Jesus' baptism at the hand of John the Baptist. It is attested in all four gospels and was observed on a feast day -- The Baptism of the Lord -- that was one of the most significant festivals of the early church (although, in most modern churches, it has become but a minor blip on the liturgical radar screen). Yet, the baptism of Jesus is also a troublesome tradition: for it raises two difficult questions the church has struggled, equally long, to answer. The first question is whether, in receiving baptism from John, Jesus is somehow subordinating himself to this older prophetic figure. The second is the question why Jesus has to be baptized at all -- for if, as orthodox theology states, Jesus was without sin, then why does he need to undergo this rite of repentance? Here, Matthew wrestles explicitly with the first of these questions, and comes up with his own unique answer. Responding to the problem of the seeming subordination of Jesus, Matthew has John object, as soon as he sees Jesus, that it is improper for him to perform the baptism (v. 14). This hesitation on John's part is unique to Matthew's account. Jesus himself, in Matthew's telling, supplies the solution to the conundrum: he has come to the river in order "to fulfill all righteousness" (v. 15). That same answer can be used to address the second question as well: that of why a sinless Jesus needs to receive baptism. The answer is, he doesn't. Yet, we need him to do so in order that all righteousness may be fulfilled. According to this line of reasoning, Jesus' baptism is more important to us than it was to him, and it was especially so for the early church, which was struggling with the question of who belonged to the Christian community and who did not. The answer to the question is simple: it is whomever has been baptized in his name. The divine benediction -- "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased" -- is addressed, here in Matthew's version, to everyone who is present (v. 17). This is different from Mark's and Luke's versions (which have God speaking to Jesus alone) and also from John's (that has God addressing John privately). Matthew's point is that the entire event is God's doing, and takes place publicly, in order that we may witness it and, thereby, learn something important about Jesus.
Preaching Possibilities
It must have been pretty hard on old Esau.
There he came, shuffling up to dear-old-Dad Isaac, holding out a steaming pot of stew, like an offering to the gods. The meat was freshly killed, no less; Esau had been out hunting!
There he came, fully expecting a blessing from his father. And not only a blessing the blessing... the big one, the deathbed blessing, the one that (to the people of that day) really mattered.
"Tough luck, Esau," says dear-old-Dad, full of sympathy (for he's been hoodwinked just as thoroughly as Esau). "Jacob got here first, masquerading as you. He beat you to it. The blessing's gone out, and I can't take it back."
Poor, Esau! He's from a dysfunctional family. Nowhere does this become more real to us than in these poignant words: "Esau said to his father, 'Have you only one blessing, father? Bless me, me also, father!' And Esau lifted up his voice and wept."
There are plenty of people who could weep with him. There are many who have likewise sought the Blessing but have never received it. The blessing is meant to be handed out to children by their parents, when the time is right: when the driver's license is earned, the diploma received, the engagement ring given, the first baby brought home from the hospital.
There's not any single occasion for giving it; in reality, it's given again and again, in progressive stages, as parents say to their children, "Hey you're all right... You've done a nice job... You're mine, and I love you."
The blessing is part of the essential equipment for striking out on one's own. It can't be packed in a suitcase, or hung in a frame upon a wall or hermetically sealed in a special box and stored in the attic. No, the blessing can't be held onto except in the heart and mind and memory. Yet, it's an essential part of life's traveling kit, all the same.
Those who have sought to leave home without the blessing find themselves in much the same predicament as the Prodigal Son, in Jesus' famous parable. "Even the pigs are porking out better than me," the Prodigal complains, picking pig-pod fiber from between his teeth. "I'll just go back to dear-old-Dad. He may not bless me, but at least he'll put me on the payroll."
In Jesus' parable, of course, the father does much more than simply put the prodigal on the payroll. He welcomes him home with open arms! He blesses him, in other words.
The father in that parable is God -- and God's noted for that sort of thing. But it doesn't happen so readily in the typical dysfunctional family. There are some who have returned home, again and again -- even well into adulthood -- hoping for the parental blessing that never comes. There are some who have wept with Esau and continue to do so.
John the Baptist is knee-deep in river water when he looks up and sees Jesus, picking his way down the bank. At first, John feels like withholding the baptismal blessing -- but for a very different reason. "I need to be baptized by you," he says, "and do you come to me?"
But, John goes ahead and baptizes his cousin anyway. Arm around his shoulder, he eases him backward into the cool, running water allowing Jesus to experience that brief moment of panic, that little death, and then the sweet, fresh air of breath restored. Then, there comes a voice out of heaven: "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."
Jesus receives the Blessing, anyway -- not by way of John, but straight from the top. Why does he even need to do it? That's what John's wondering, as he tries, at first, to refuse the baptism. Doesn't the Son of God know he's already blessed -- and has been blessed, ever since that star hovered over Bethlehem?
We'll never know for sure why Jesus wants to be baptized -- but, it just may have something to do with the fact that he's human, as well as divine. It's only human, after all, to crave the Blessing. If Jesus, son of the most high God, is going to have the full human experience, he has to know the ache of a blessing unreceived. And, he has to know the thrill of receiving it at last.
"This is my Son, the beloved, in whom I am well pleased." Maybe Jesus needs to hear those words before he can set out on his life's work. They're words we all need to hear, as well: "This is my son, the beloved; this is my daughter, the beloved."
It's a blessing offered to us every time we come to worship.
Prayer For The Day
Lord, there is a place deep within us,
a dark place, a secret place.
In that place, we hunger,
and have done so since our earliest days.
There is no human love,
no mortal benediction
that can satisfy that yearning.
Only your love can do that.
Come into our lives, through your Son, Jesus:
bless us with your unfailing blessing --
for, truly, our hearts are restless
until they rest in you. Amen.
To Illustrate
There is a fable that illustrates what sort of impact the blessing can have upon a life. It's a story about a fabulously wealthy king, who has a son he adores. The boy is bright and handsome, perfect in every way, except one: he has a hunchback.
This saddens the king to no end. He proclaims that a rich treasure will go to the person who figures out how to heal the boy's back. Months and months pass without a solution. The wisest thinkers and most learned scholars travel to the palace from afar. But no one knows what to do.
Finally, a wise, old woman happens into the kingdom and hears about the problem. "I want nothing of your treasure," she says; "but I do have the answer to your problem."
The old woman directs the king to build a statue in the center of the palace courtyard an exact replica of his son but with one exception: its back must be perfectly straight. "That's all you have to do," she assures him. "Trust God for the healing."
The king's artisans set to work, and in no time, a beautiful marble sculpture sat in the center of the courtyard. Every day, as the little boy played, he studied the figure in admiration. He started to say to himself, "That's me! It looks exactly like me."
Little by little, the boy's back straightened. The day came when the king gazed out at the prince, frolicking in the garden and realized his son's back was totally healed. The boy's identification with the statue was so complete that he has come to believe it was him, straight back and all. His body obeys his belief.
***
I like to consider this (the baptism) Jesus' first miracle: the miracle of his humility. The first thing Jesus does for us is go down with us. His whole life will be like this. It is well known that Jesus ended his career on a cross between two thieves; it deserves to be as well known that he began his ministry in a river among penitent sinners.
-- Dale Bruner
***
I think half the troubles for which men go slouching in prayer to God are caused by their intolerable pride. Many of our cares are but a morbid way of looking at our privileges. We let our blessings get moldy, and then call them curses.
-- Henry Ward Beecher
***
To bless means to say good things. We have to bless one another constantly. Parents need to bless their children, children their parents, husbands their wives, wives their husbands, friends their friends. In our society, so full of curses, we must fill each place we enter with our blessings. We forget so quickly that we are God's beloved children and allow the many curses of our world to darken our hearts. Therefore we have to be reminded of our belovedness and remind others of theirs. Whether the blessing is given in words or with gestures, in a solemn or an informal way, our lives need to be blessed lives.
-- Henri J.M. Nouwen, Bread For The Journey (HarperCollins, 1997)
***
Every man is trying to live up to his father's expectations and to make up for his mistakes.
-- Lyndon B. Johnson
***
On my desk in New York sits a photograph of a seven-year-old boy. He's wearing a pair of glasses, a freshly ironed shirt buttoned to the neck, and his best smile. I placed that picture on my desk at the suggestion of a friend who understood that, as someone who grew up fundamentalist, I was having a difficult time finding my way as an adult. Just look at that picture of yourself as a child, he suggested, and try to recall what it was like to be that child.
For weeks, the only response that picture inspired in me was laughter. The photograph was taken in 1961, and all my hair was chopped off. That, combined with the spectacles perched awkwardly on my nose, made for a comic figure.
But then one morning, while seated at my desk, it all came back. In 1961, we lived in a parsonage next to the church out in the farm country of southern Minnesota, and there was nothing in the world more important to me than baseball. One day my father returned from town with a plastic bat and ball. "Let's play ball," he said. I couldn't have been more excited, in part because I knew, even then, that my father had no interest whatsoever in sports of any kind. I recall what happened next as though it were yesterday. After swinging wildly at a couple of pitches, I decided to let a few go by.
Somehow, even in first grade, I had learned enough about baseball to know that four balls constituted a walk and, perhaps to save myself the embarrassment of swinging and missing more pitches, I elected to draw a base on balls.
"Well, what's the point of all this?" my father huffed. "If you don't swing I'm just wasting my time." He tossed the ball in my direction, turned, and headed back to his study.
We never played ball again.
I tell that story not to elicit sympathy and certainly not to suggest that my father acted out of malice, for I realize now that he brought his own brokenness to his role as parent. Yet it would be difficult to overestimate the loneliness and abandonment felt by the kid in glasses. I relate that story because, just a bit more than halfway through my allotted three-score-and-ten years, I have come to believe that we, all of us in the community of faith, have stories to tell. "We are healed by our stories," Terry Tempest Williams declares. And perhaps, through luck or coincidence or even grace, my story might help you understand your story.
As I stared at the picture on my desktop and remembered that breezy Minnesota afternoon, I began to realize that, throughout my life, my perception of God was very much tied to my childish perception of my father -- distant and austere, disapproving and abandoning. Psychologists call this conditional love. I will love you, provided that you meet my conditions. And if you fail at any time to live up to my expectations, I will withhold that love.
-- Randall Balmer, Growing Pains: Learning to Love My Father's Faith (Brazos Press, 2001)
