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Morning Meditation for Epiphany
February 14, 2026
Feast Day of Cyril and Methodius, 869, 885 AD
Reading: Philippians 1:15-17
Some proclaim Christ from envy and rivalry, but others from goodwill. These proclaim Christ out of love, knowing that I have been put here for the defense of the gospel; the others proclaim Christ out of selfish ambition, not sincerely but intending to increase my suffering in my imprisonment. What does it matter? Just this, that Christ is proclaimed in every way, whether out of false motives or true; and in that I rejoice.
Meditation by Peter Vanderveen
When was the last time you wrote a letter with the expectation, however slight, that it might be canonized, published, and read by hundreds of millions two thousands years later? That’s admittedly a high bar.
So how about this: when was the last time you simply wrote a letter? Think of a letter in the traditional sense, written on paper, delivered by a courier – something that could be savored and stored away and periodically pulled from storage so that a few recorded words from the past might shed light on your understanding of the present? Maybe this is only a distant memory. Maybe you never have. But isn’t this more in line with the genre? Letters are a form of address that invite pondering. They don’t set down dogma very well.
I pity poor Paul. For he certainly wasn’t writing for the ages, with the expressed purpose of establishing a comprehensive and orthodox record of God’s actions. He didn’t expect that his handful of his letters would be preserved and everlastingly proclaimed to be “the Word of the Lord.” In point of fact, his chief task was to sustain fledgling Christian communities that hadn’t yet been given any definitive form. There were no writings for reference. There was no liturgy. There was no tradition to settle back into. In an often hostile environment Paul was simply trying to instill a faith that was astonishingly new. His letters were a resource. He never claimed that they were holy writ. They were meant to be illuminating, not determinative.
In his specific context, then, the adage of P.T. Barnum might well have applied, that “there’s no such thing as bad publicity.” So Paul claimed I would contend, however, that in our context, there is, and that it’s almost daily displayed by Christians who excitedly, yet woefully, misrepresent the Gospel. There’s no lack of selfish ambition evident in many who engage in the hawking of God. And when “Christ is proclaimed in every way” faith can be stymied by the wearying work of clearing away the many versions of the Jesus we like and want in order to discover the Jesus who is.
We need to read Paul’s letters as letters. Including them in the Bible doesn’t make them something they were never meant to be. It doesn’t harden every sentence into a rule. That they are part of Scripture invites us to think of revelation in a different way, more fluid, more intimate, and more humane. The next time you read or hear a segment of one of Paul’s letters, imagine that you found it in a shoebox in the attic, among a series of old family photos, maybe from the time you were a child. Then mark how Paul’s words framed in this way change your sense of “the Word of the Lord” – probably for the better.
Prayer
Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy Name,
thy kingdom come,
thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those
who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom,
and the power, and the glory,
for ever and ever. Amen.
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