The book of Exodus destroys most of the warm, fuzzy feelings we normally attribute to God. Although there is a sense of real relationships with Moses, God comes across as an incomprehensible tyrant.
And that's just it. I can't comprehend it. I don't can't understand the depths of God's jealousy for the people of God. And I write that intentionally - not jealousy of but jealousy for. It seems like in God's ultimate cosmic mind, there is no other option for his people - there is only him and for them to disregard him and his power for their lives, it taints the relationship. It colors it in a way that cannot be repaired and he can no longer even be around them because of his holiness.
Go up to the land flowing with milk and honey. But I will not go with you, because you are a stiff-necked people and I might destroy you on the way.
When the people heard these distressing words, they began to mourn and no one put on any ornaments. For the LORD had said to Moses, 'Tell the Israelites, "You are a stiff-necked people. If I were to go with you even for a moment, I might destroy you.' (Exodus 33:3-5a)
But our human perception of tyranny is not one of oppression, it is a misunderstanding of the completeness of God's holiness and righteousness. God's rightness. We live in a world that believes it is a human right to not have consequences for our decisions, that somehow we are not bound by any law or rule because when we are caught, 'we didn't mean it.' In order to continue on the selfish road, we expect that those in authority will have mercy each and every time and when they respond with discipline or punishment because of bad behavior, we cry out "Bully!"
But God is neither a bully nor a tyrant: he is holy. And he desperately desires something entirely different for his children. Even though our scriptures seem to make out that God wanted to destroy the people of Israel at the mountain, he cannot because they are his treasure. His discipline is postponed which (hopefully) we'll look at tomorrow.
Questions:
1. What is one time you deserved punishment and received it?
2. What is one time you deserved punishment and avoided it?
3. From which one did you learn more? What did you learn?
Sunday, July 26, 2015
Friday, July 24, 2015
Etching
Some of my relatives still write letters. It's a beautiful thing - a long, lost art if you ask me, but writing letters, of course, has regressed to the point of near extinction by the facility of e-mail or text messaging. The instantaneousness of receiving information far outweighs the benefits of a paid envelope, right?
Every birthday or anniversary, my parents send me a card. Yes, cards are nice and they make me smile, the sentiment helps to brighten a day, but what I really search for is their handwriting. They both have amazing script, loops and lines all in place. If their handwriting was put in a 'lineup,' I could probably be able to pick them out at first choice.
And beyond the visible swirls and twirls of the writing itself, is the deeper appreciation for taking time to write something to me that will take almost two weeks to reach me. By the time the letter arrives, everything in our lives could have changed, but that one letter that reaches me is a lasting impression about what was important to them at the moment, so it becomes important to me also.
It's the beauty of writing a letter: time, focus, legibility, depth of foresight (you have to know what you are going to write beforehand. There's no erasing)
Moses was on top of the mountain a long time receiving a letter. Forty days, we read, and the Israelites were getting a little impatient about this fated family vacation in the desert. They approach Aaron, Moses' brother, and push him, "Come make us a god who will go before us. As for this fellow Moses who brought us up out of Egypt, we don't know what happened to him.'
When life becomes stagnant, stale or full of nervousness, we tend to think that God has abandoned us. We need instant gratification for the calming of our senses and we have a penchant for quick, non-thought-out action. It doesn't matter what we do as long as we do something. For the Israelites standing in the shadow of a Mountain of God, their assumption was that God had done something to Moses so it was time to not only get a new God but get a new Moses, too.
But during the time that they had been waiting, God was crafting his own Magna Carta. When the Lord finished speaking to Moses on Mt. Sinai, he gave him the two tablets of the covenant law, the tablets of stone inscribed by the finger of God. (Ex. 31:18)
The tablets were inscribed on the front and the back. (Can you imagine that? God's own handwriting?) Unlike writing an e-mail, scratching the entire covenantal law into stone takes time. You all know how much focus it takes to write a neat, concise letter - preparation and careful legibility. These forty days God was preparing the gift of the Law for the Israelites, that which would keep them safe in the community and in close connection with God. But the Israelites ruined it with their impatience.
Questions:
1. When was the last time you got a handwritten letter? What was it about? Did you keep it?
2. What kinds of things are you most impatient about? How does that affect your decision making processes?
3. If you could write a handwritten letter today telling them about the most important thing in your life, who would you write it to and what would it entail?
Every birthday or anniversary, my parents send me a card. Yes, cards are nice and they make me smile, the sentiment helps to brighten a day, but what I really search for is their handwriting. They both have amazing script, loops and lines all in place. If their handwriting was put in a 'lineup,' I could probably be able to pick them out at first choice.
And beyond the visible swirls and twirls of the writing itself, is the deeper appreciation for taking time to write something to me that will take almost two weeks to reach me. By the time the letter arrives, everything in our lives could have changed, but that one letter that reaches me is a lasting impression about what was important to them at the moment, so it becomes important to me also.
It's the beauty of writing a letter: time, focus, legibility, depth of foresight (you have to know what you are going to write beforehand. There's no erasing)
Moses was on top of the mountain a long time receiving a letter. Forty days, we read, and the Israelites were getting a little impatient about this fated family vacation in the desert. They approach Aaron, Moses' brother, and push him, "Come make us a god who will go before us. As for this fellow Moses who brought us up out of Egypt, we don't know what happened to him.'
When life becomes stagnant, stale or full of nervousness, we tend to think that God has abandoned us. We need instant gratification for the calming of our senses and we have a penchant for quick, non-thought-out action. It doesn't matter what we do as long as we do something. For the Israelites standing in the shadow of a Mountain of God, their assumption was that God had done something to Moses so it was time to not only get a new God but get a new Moses, too.
But during the time that they had been waiting, God was crafting his own Magna Carta. When the Lord finished speaking to Moses on Mt. Sinai, he gave him the two tablets of the covenant law, the tablets of stone inscribed by the finger of God. (Ex. 31:18)
The tablets were inscribed on the front and the back. (Can you imagine that? God's own handwriting?) Unlike writing an e-mail, scratching the entire covenantal law into stone takes time. You all know how much focus it takes to write a neat, concise letter - preparation and careful legibility. These forty days God was preparing the gift of the Law for the Israelites, that which would keep them safe in the community and in close connection with God. But the Israelites ruined it with their impatience.
Questions:
1. When was the last time you got a handwritten letter? What was it about? Did you keep it?
2. What kinds of things are you most impatient about? How does that affect your decision making processes?
3. If you could write a handwritten letter today telling them about the most important thing in your life, who would you write it to and what would it entail?
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Atonement
I stumbled across this in devotions this morning from Exodus. Naturally, I had passed over it multiple times because I am an impatient, clumsy reader, but chapter 30: 11-16 struck my fancy. I'll put a few questions at the end.
Then the Lord said to Moses, 'When you take a census of the Israelites to count them, each one must pay the LORD a ransom for his life at the time he his counted. Then no plague will come on them when you number them. Each one who crosses over to those already counted is to give half shekel, according to the sanctuary shekel, which weighs twenty gerahs. (5.8 grams per half shekel) This half shekel is an offering to the LORD. All who cross over, those twenty years old or more, are to give an offering to the LORD. The rich are not to give more than a half shekel and the poor are not to give less when you make the offering to the LORD to atone for your lives. Receive the atonement money from the Israelites and use it for the service of the tent of meeting. IT will be a memorial for the Israelites before the LORD, making atonement for your lives.
I don't know why this passage irks me. Perhaps because it makes it sound as if we can answer the age old question, "How much is a life worth?" by responding, "Well, it seems like it's weighing in at 5.8 grams of metal." God speaks to Moses, and it would be interesting to get Moses' thoughts about the atonement, the reconciliation of humanity to God. Did Moses wonder what It was about money that could appease God's wrath through coinage?
But there is a deeper question here, I think. At base we are getting to the root of all evil - the love of money. Perhaps there is a point to which God says, "I've blessed you all be freeing you from slavery, I've brought you out from Egypt on your way to the Promised Land, and I don't want you encumbering yourselves with the love of financial stability. God provides. To give back only reemphasizes how great is his goodness."
I love, though, that the rich cannot give more in an attempt to buy God's mercy and the poor cannot opt out. It levels the playing ground and even though the poor may or may not be able to shoulder the weight as much, there is a sense of joy to be on the same ground as your neighbors.
Questions:
1. Does your church, or your ministry group, ever talk about money? (Alternatively, do they ever stop talking about it?)
2. In what ways does the sacrifice of money make an atonement, a reconciliation between you and God? In what ways does this seem strained?
3. Does God really need the money? How are the finances of the church used? Do you know? Do you want to know?
4. The scripture speaks of crossing over to be counted. This is a very public place where the perception is that once you've crossed over to be counted among the faithful, there is not only atonement, but safety from plagues. What plagues modern day faithful who refrain from being counted?
Then the Lord said to Moses, 'When you take a census of the Israelites to count them, each one must pay the LORD a ransom for his life at the time he his counted. Then no plague will come on them when you number them. Each one who crosses over to those already counted is to give half shekel, according to the sanctuary shekel, which weighs twenty gerahs. (5.8 grams per half shekel) This half shekel is an offering to the LORD. All who cross over, those twenty years old or more, are to give an offering to the LORD. The rich are not to give more than a half shekel and the poor are not to give less when you make the offering to the LORD to atone for your lives. Receive the atonement money from the Israelites and use it for the service of the tent of meeting. IT will be a memorial for the Israelites before the LORD, making atonement for your lives.
I don't know why this passage irks me. Perhaps because it makes it sound as if we can answer the age old question, "How much is a life worth?" by responding, "Well, it seems like it's weighing in at 5.8 grams of metal." God speaks to Moses, and it would be interesting to get Moses' thoughts about the atonement, the reconciliation of humanity to God. Did Moses wonder what It was about money that could appease God's wrath through coinage?
But there is a deeper question here, I think. At base we are getting to the root of all evil - the love of money. Perhaps there is a point to which God says, "I've blessed you all be freeing you from slavery, I've brought you out from Egypt on your way to the Promised Land, and I don't want you encumbering yourselves with the love of financial stability. God provides. To give back only reemphasizes how great is his goodness."
I love, though, that the rich cannot give more in an attempt to buy God's mercy and the poor cannot opt out. It levels the playing ground and even though the poor may or may not be able to shoulder the weight as much, there is a sense of joy to be on the same ground as your neighbors.
Questions:
1. Does your church, or your ministry group, ever talk about money? (Alternatively, do they ever stop talking about it?)
2. In what ways does the sacrifice of money make an atonement, a reconciliation between you and God? In what ways does this seem strained?
3. Does God really need the money? How are the finances of the church used? Do you know? Do you want to know?
4. The scripture speaks of crossing over to be counted. This is a very public place where the perception is that once you've crossed over to be counted among the faithful, there is not only atonement, but safety from plagues. What plagues modern day faithful who refrain from being counted?
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
The Slog
I'm back to reading through the entire Bible - from front to back; from 'In the beginning' to 'The grace of the Lord Jesus be with God's people. Amen.'
It's a daunting thing to read this book, one that feels like I have read so many times but in truth, I'm not sure I've read it deeply ever. I have the tendency to skip over vast swaths of OT genealogies and laws/statutes/ordinances and dive headfirst into the fresh water of the narrative stories and then the New Testament.
But I bought this new Bible and its got two inch lined margins on the sides which are dedicated to scripted thoughts from the texts and as much as I like to write, how do you go deep when reading through sections of the OT like the one I'm currently battling through - Exodus 25-31, where Moses is receiving the exact requirements for what will be included in the tabernacle.
Yawn.
I don't care about Aaron's vestments, or the size and composition of the lampstands, the numbers of curtains and what hue they are to be dyed. No wonder people don't read the Bible from cover to cover. Reading through this is like walking through two feet of fresh snow wearing a full snowsuit and boots. A real slog. It's tiring and sweaty and, frankly, I just want to skip it but as I read through all of the ordinances about the worship space, I realized the beginnings of our fascination with getting the esthetics right for worship. It's demanded and required for the good of those who are leading it.
Chapter 28 verse 34,35 the gold bells and the pomegranates are to alternate round the hem of the robe. Aaron must wear it when he ministers. The sound of the bells will be heard when he enters the Holy Place before the LORD and we comes out so that he will not die.
I don't get it. Aaron will die if he doesn't wear the bells on his robe? I'm not trying to sound irreverent, but is God really going to be snuck up on?
But our fascination with the adiaphora, the small things of insignificance in the realm of Kingdom things, can be talked about at length. Some of it is great conversation specifically when talking about tradition and why we do things.
Here are some questions to ponder:
1. What are some of the things that occur in my worship service that I don't pay attention to anymore?
2. What are some of the esthetics of space that occur in the sanctuary where I attend? What is the artwork? What is the symbolism? How has the space changed since I've attended?
3. What does the pastor, or worship leader, wear? Is this essential? Is it distracting? What is symbolically being said by the garments of the worship leader?
4. In the worship service, what are the most important things? What is it that is not adiaphora?
It's a daunting thing to read this book, one that feels like I have read so many times but in truth, I'm not sure I've read it deeply ever. I have the tendency to skip over vast swaths of OT genealogies and laws/statutes/ordinances and dive headfirst into the fresh water of the narrative stories and then the New Testament.
But I bought this new Bible and its got two inch lined margins on the sides which are dedicated to scripted thoughts from the texts and as much as I like to write, how do you go deep when reading through sections of the OT like the one I'm currently battling through - Exodus 25-31, where Moses is receiving the exact requirements for what will be included in the tabernacle.
Yawn.
I don't care about Aaron's vestments, or the size and composition of the lampstands, the numbers of curtains and what hue they are to be dyed. No wonder people don't read the Bible from cover to cover. Reading through this is like walking through two feet of fresh snow wearing a full snowsuit and boots. A real slog. It's tiring and sweaty and, frankly, I just want to skip it but as I read through all of the ordinances about the worship space, I realized the beginnings of our fascination with getting the esthetics right for worship. It's demanded and required for the good of those who are leading it.
Chapter 28 verse 34,35 the gold bells and the pomegranates are to alternate round the hem of the robe. Aaron must wear it when he ministers. The sound of the bells will be heard when he enters the Holy Place before the LORD and we comes out so that he will not die.
I don't get it. Aaron will die if he doesn't wear the bells on his robe? I'm not trying to sound irreverent, but is God really going to be snuck up on?
But our fascination with the adiaphora, the small things of insignificance in the realm of Kingdom things, can be talked about at length. Some of it is great conversation specifically when talking about tradition and why we do things.
Here are some questions to ponder:
1. What are some of the things that occur in my worship service that I don't pay attention to anymore?
2. What are some of the esthetics of space that occur in the sanctuary where I attend? What is the artwork? What is the symbolism? How has the space changed since I've attended?
3. What does the pastor, or worship leader, wear? Is this essential? Is it distracting? What is symbolically being said by the garments of the worship leader?
4. In the worship service, what are the most important things? What is it that is not adiaphora?
Friday, May 1, 2015
Raider's of the Ark
We had some pretty decent rains in the last couple of days here in southeast Queensland; enough water to cause minor flooding, but not enough to send streams of animals heading for the nearest ocean liner. Ironically, as the gates of heavens have opened (not the springs underneath as the Bible bespeaks) I have been reading the biblical account of the Flood. As we bypass the Sunday School version about what a wonderful, nice story this is about a bearded five hundred year old Moses standing on top of his ark, zebras and kangaroos surrounding him, waving at whomever is drawing the picture, we notice the darkness of the story - what's at the root of this aquatic episode.
"The Lord saw how great the wickedness of the human race had become on the earth and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time. The LORD regretted that he had made human beings on the earth and his heart was troubled. So the LORD said, 'I will wipe from the face of the earth the human race that I have created - and with them the animals, the birds, and the creatures that move along the ground - for I regret that I have made them." (Genesis 6:6,7)
This story isn't about how nice the animals pranced with each other trapped up in a wooden cage for almost half a year. This is not a story about the animals as it is always made to be - the story of the salvation by wooden beams, this is what the ark is about. The entire human race, the writer of Genesis proclaims, has nothing but evil emanating from its heart. Enough evil to actually cause God's heart to be troubled and to have God himself be rueful about the actual creation, one he intended and saw to be 'Good!'
This is a story about the continued desecration of relationships (angels and women?), thoughts and actions overwhelmed with evil so that God's plan A is to erase the terrestrial chalkboard and start again. If only one could be found righteous, then everything could be started again.
Enter Noah - "Comfort."
We know the rest of the story, that after riding out the months, trapped up with all sorts of zoological, veterinary and scatological problems, not even to say what the squabbles between the carnivores and all the other species would be, we get this amusing blessing after stepping out of the boat.
Then God blessed Noah and his sons, saying to them, 'Be fruitful and increase in number and fill the earth. The fear and dread of you will fall on all the beasts of the earth, and on all the birds in the sky, on every creature that moves along the ground, and on all the fish in the sea; they are given into your hands. Everything that lives and moves about will be food for you, just as I gave you the green plants, now I give you everything. (Genesis 9:1-3)
If I'm Noah, I'm thinking these three things:
1. Yes, vegetarianism ended!
2. You mean, now they're going to be afraid of me? For the last five months I've had two cows walking in front of me and I've been wondering what it would be like to cut one of them up, throw some nice pieces of it's ribs over a warm fire and eat them? Now you're telling me its okay to eat them? Now I have to chase them? (Did you ever wonder how Noah decided which ones would taste good? I have this vision of him chasing after a skunk...)
3. What am I going to do with all this wood?
Once again, that's not what this story is about, but my brain goes different places at different times.
To me, as we read the Flood account again, its important that we reflect on the purpose of the story; that humanity's turn away from the creator was actually the reason for the flood. It makes me wonder where our world is going today. God isn't going to flood the world again, but... Let's hope we can raid the ark for some idea of how to change the tune of hearts today. I'd hate to be put onto another ark with a pair of every kind of spider in the world.
"The Lord saw how great the wickedness of the human race had become on the earth and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time. The LORD regretted that he had made human beings on the earth and his heart was troubled. So the LORD said, 'I will wipe from the face of the earth the human race that I have created - and with them the animals, the birds, and the creatures that move along the ground - for I regret that I have made them." (Genesis 6:6,7)
This story isn't about how nice the animals pranced with each other trapped up in a wooden cage for almost half a year. This is not a story about the animals as it is always made to be - the story of the salvation by wooden beams, this is what the ark is about. The entire human race, the writer of Genesis proclaims, has nothing but evil emanating from its heart. Enough evil to actually cause God's heart to be troubled and to have God himself be rueful about the actual creation, one he intended and saw to be 'Good!'
This is a story about the continued desecration of relationships (angels and women?), thoughts and actions overwhelmed with evil so that God's plan A is to erase the terrestrial chalkboard and start again. If only one could be found righteous, then everything could be started again.
Enter Noah - "Comfort."
We know the rest of the story, that after riding out the months, trapped up with all sorts of zoological, veterinary and scatological problems, not even to say what the squabbles between the carnivores and all the other species would be, we get this amusing blessing after stepping out of the boat.
Then God blessed Noah and his sons, saying to them, 'Be fruitful and increase in number and fill the earth. The fear and dread of you will fall on all the beasts of the earth, and on all the birds in the sky, on every creature that moves along the ground, and on all the fish in the sea; they are given into your hands. Everything that lives and moves about will be food for you, just as I gave you the green plants, now I give you everything. (Genesis 9:1-3)
If I'm Noah, I'm thinking these three things:
1. Yes, vegetarianism ended!
2. You mean, now they're going to be afraid of me? For the last five months I've had two cows walking in front of me and I've been wondering what it would be like to cut one of them up, throw some nice pieces of it's ribs over a warm fire and eat them? Now you're telling me its okay to eat them? Now I have to chase them? (Did you ever wonder how Noah decided which ones would taste good? I have this vision of him chasing after a skunk...)
3. What am I going to do with all this wood?
Once again, that's not what this story is about, but my brain goes different places at different times.
To me, as we read the Flood account again, its important that we reflect on the purpose of the story; that humanity's turn away from the creator was actually the reason for the flood. It makes me wonder where our world is going today. God isn't going to flood the world again, but... Let's hope we can raid the ark for some idea of how to change the tune of hearts today. I'd hate to be put onto another ark with a pair of every kind of spider in the world.
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
The Dump
Yesterday, I went for a run at the local park. In the middle of the park is a generous sized pond; its circumference is 1.2 kilometers so I know exactly how far I'm running. As I ran, I saw various waterbirds, ibises, reed runners, ducks and geese, swimming contentedly in various patterns near the shore picking through the weeds for bugs and pond scum alike. In the middle of the pond are two islands with beautiful trees gracing the islets like toupees on a submerged head. It's a nice place to run laps, but sometimes there are things there that make me scratch my head.
As I was coming down the hill to the park, I spotted a man and his best friend - his dog. This scene probably plays itself out time and time again throughout every town and city where dogs and people walk, but the man's best friend was in the middle of a bowel movement carefully laying a log cabin in the middle of the grass while his watcher stood above him gazing at the setting sun over the pond. Then, when the dog had finished adding the roof to his cabin, the man looked around intently to see if anyone was watching...
And then he moved on leaving Fido's steaming summer home alongside the path.
Oh no he didn't. I'm not one who is usually a stickler for rules, but there was something about the man's attitude that frustrated me more than the actual dump left glistening in the grass. I cleared my throat and he saw me coming. So he kept going. Oh, yeah, I'm going to give this man a piece of my mind. He knows the rules. He looked around before leaving the crap there. It's my moral obligation to do this, to stick it to him, to rub his face in the mess that he left. That will make him think twice about leaving his dog's excrement in the park next time.
I ran faster to catch up with him and the pooch, and in my righteousness I was concocting various biting remarks for his inability to pick up after himself. And then I passed him. It was apparent that he knew what he had done wrong, but he gave me the death stare as if willing me to say something so that he could respond in kind and escalate my own inflated sense of self-righteousness. Maybe it was self-preservation, maybe something else, but all that I could do was smile. It was not a smile of commiseration (I didn't know why he was in such a hurry) but of condescension. I don't need to say anything because I've got the law on my side. I could destroy you if I wanted to. I kept running.
The longer I think about yesterday's episode, the more I think about how I was wrong. I acted like a modern day Pharisee. How many times have I done something that was not necessarily within the rules - left my own metaphorical steaming mess behind - and someone has not pointed it out to me? How many times do I sit in judgment over those who are in a hurry because I am not currently being caught in the midst of my sin.
Jesus seemed to catch people in the act all the time but instead of acting like the Pharisees, he responded with grace - go and sin no more. (As if that is possible). He didn't rub their faces in it, creating a dislike for him (nobody likes to have their face rubbed in their own sin). Unlike the disciples, he didn't demand God to send destruction from above; he didn't complain about the mess that has been left.
He just cleaned it up.
He picked up all the crap and got rid of it. And sometimes people aren't even aware of what he did.
That's what I should have done. I should have grabbed a plastic bag and without the condescending look, without the self-righteous attitude, I should have done what seems more like what a Christian should be doing in this world: sometimes it is akin to washing feet; sometimes it is doing the unthinkable to administer grace. Not for our own bolstering, but for the fostering of God's kingdom here on earth. Some might say this enables the sinner to keep on sinning, to not take responsibility for their own sin, but I'd say, the next time they make a lap back to that place where they left the dump, they might notice that someone else had to pick it up and then, this small kernel of guilt might lead them to repentance and changed life.
I'll see if I can follow my own advice next time.
As I was coming down the hill to the park, I spotted a man and his best friend - his dog. This scene probably plays itself out time and time again throughout every town and city where dogs and people walk, but the man's best friend was in the middle of a bowel movement carefully laying a log cabin in the middle of the grass while his watcher stood above him gazing at the setting sun over the pond. Then, when the dog had finished adding the roof to his cabin, the man looked around intently to see if anyone was watching...
And then he moved on leaving Fido's steaming summer home alongside the path.
Oh no he didn't. I'm not one who is usually a stickler for rules, but there was something about the man's attitude that frustrated me more than the actual dump left glistening in the grass. I cleared my throat and he saw me coming. So he kept going. Oh, yeah, I'm going to give this man a piece of my mind. He knows the rules. He looked around before leaving the crap there. It's my moral obligation to do this, to stick it to him, to rub his face in the mess that he left. That will make him think twice about leaving his dog's excrement in the park next time.
I ran faster to catch up with him and the pooch, and in my righteousness I was concocting various biting remarks for his inability to pick up after himself. And then I passed him. It was apparent that he knew what he had done wrong, but he gave me the death stare as if willing me to say something so that he could respond in kind and escalate my own inflated sense of self-righteousness. Maybe it was self-preservation, maybe something else, but all that I could do was smile. It was not a smile of commiseration (I didn't know why he was in such a hurry) but of condescension. I don't need to say anything because I've got the law on my side. I could destroy you if I wanted to. I kept running.
The longer I think about yesterday's episode, the more I think about how I was wrong. I acted like a modern day Pharisee. How many times have I done something that was not necessarily within the rules - left my own metaphorical steaming mess behind - and someone has not pointed it out to me? How many times do I sit in judgment over those who are in a hurry because I am not currently being caught in the midst of my sin.
Jesus seemed to catch people in the act all the time but instead of acting like the Pharisees, he responded with grace - go and sin no more. (As if that is possible). He didn't rub their faces in it, creating a dislike for him (nobody likes to have their face rubbed in their own sin). Unlike the disciples, he didn't demand God to send destruction from above; he didn't complain about the mess that has been left.
He just cleaned it up.
He picked up all the crap and got rid of it. And sometimes people aren't even aware of what he did.
That's what I should have done. I should have grabbed a plastic bag and without the condescending look, without the self-righteous attitude, I should have done what seems more like what a Christian should be doing in this world: sometimes it is akin to washing feet; sometimes it is doing the unthinkable to administer grace. Not for our own bolstering, but for the fostering of God's kingdom here on earth. Some might say this enables the sinner to keep on sinning, to not take responsibility for their own sin, but I'd say, the next time they make a lap back to that place where they left the dump, they might notice that someone else had to pick it up and then, this small kernel of guilt might lead them to repentance and changed life.
I'll see if I can follow my own advice next time.
Monday, April 27, 2015
Rule Over It
I just got a new Bible. It's not pretty; in fact, I think it's the polar opposite - it's drab dark blue with five words: Holy Bible - New International Version. On the inside there are two inch, lined margins on every page which allow me the opportunity to reflect on the pages themselves. The last Bible I wore out from constant 4pt scribbling in the margins, but now I can read it.
I never do this, but I'm starting at Genesis: Many I meet give me advice on how to read the Bible; start at three different places, maybe one of Paul's letters in the New Testament, explore the Psalms or Proverbs, but I'm going against my normal biblical instinct to write about Genesis first. In the beginning...
I've read it lots of times, but my eyes stuck fast on the words in 1:28 right after God creates Adam and Eve and then blesses the humans: "Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground."
Yes! I, as a human, like those words. Subdue, rule over, multiply! We're good at those things because the idea of power (borne in those words) is our favorite breakfast of champions. To feel power is to feel alive. To feel the opposite, to have it acted against us - being subdued, ruled over and divided (the opposite of multiplication) - those things cause us fear and we rear up against them. When God spoke to Adam and Eve (pre-fall) his blessing includes power for good over the earth.
But then I am struck by the immensity of the contradiction which occurs later (post-fall). Cain is distressed by God's seeming dismissal of his offering. He has worked diligently toiling for the sin of his father. (2:17,19 "Cursed is the ground because of you (Adam); through painful toil you will eat food from it all the days of your life...By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.") We have this heightened sense of the futility of farmers who not only can't trust the elements, but the harvest is not always fruitful either.
Here's the sinful contradiction: 3:8 After Cain was upset and jealous because of God's preference for Abel's offering it reads, Now Cain said to his brother Abel, 'Let's go out to the field.' While they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him.
The murder is great, but the premeditation, the invitation to destruction, is what gets me. Cain, it seems, knowingly planned to destroy his brother because of jealousy.
Unfortunately, it plays out far too often in this world. I don't know how many funerals that I have attended where the family is at odds because of the will. It's a double meaning - the literal will of the deceased, and the willful jealousy over objects of a lifetime of attrition. Brothers and sisters are destroyed and relationships are metaphorically murdered over an antique vase or stamp collection. It's the willful sin of covetousness, or a perceived slight, that bring us to a place of fratricide.
God's precognition to Cain's jealousy, after Cain's almost disconnected attitude to the reality of the upcoming murder, is poignant and soaked in pain. 4:6 Then the LORD said to Cain, 'Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast? If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must...
Rule Over It!"
We don't talk about sin much anymore; we're more inclined to intentionally speak of grace and more intentioned to act as if God has already flushed our dirty stool of sin before we've dumped it. We know that God will forgive us, so we willfully act against what we know to be right. Sin crouches at our door waiting to spring. It is not a devious little imp with pitchfork in hand, it is an attractive option to the goodness of God - it makes us believe that we are gods and it give us the power of God, to create and destroy. But God calls us to rule over that sin - the same sin of our father Adam. Subdue the lurking beast, rule over it and do not let it multiply.
Is there sin in your own life which is crouching outside your door? Or, have you already invited it across the threshold, welcoming it as if a special guest? Do you have rule over sin in your life?
I never do this, but I'm starting at Genesis: Many I meet give me advice on how to read the Bible; start at three different places, maybe one of Paul's letters in the New Testament, explore the Psalms or Proverbs, but I'm going against my normal biblical instinct to write about Genesis first. In the beginning...
I've read it lots of times, but my eyes stuck fast on the words in 1:28 right after God creates Adam and Eve and then blesses the humans: "Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground."
Yes! I, as a human, like those words. Subdue, rule over, multiply! We're good at those things because the idea of power (borne in those words) is our favorite breakfast of champions. To feel power is to feel alive. To feel the opposite, to have it acted against us - being subdued, ruled over and divided (the opposite of multiplication) - those things cause us fear and we rear up against them. When God spoke to Adam and Eve (pre-fall) his blessing includes power for good over the earth.
But then I am struck by the immensity of the contradiction which occurs later (post-fall). Cain is distressed by God's seeming dismissal of his offering. He has worked diligently toiling for the sin of his father. (2:17,19 "Cursed is the ground because of you (Adam); through painful toil you will eat food from it all the days of your life...By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.") We have this heightened sense of the futility of farmers who not only can't trust the elements, but the harvest is not always fruitful either.
Here's the sinful contradiction: 3:8 After Cain was upset and jealous because of God's preference for Abel's offering it reads, Now Cain said to his brother Abel, 'Let's go out to the field.' While they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him.
The murder is great, but the premeditation, the invitation to destruction, is what gets me. Cain, it seems, knowingly planned to destroy his brother because of jealousy.
Unfortunately, it plays out far too often in this world. I don't know how many funerals that I have attended where the family is at odds because of the will. It's a double meaning - the literal will of the deceased, and the willful jealousy over objects of a lifetime of attrition. Brothers and sisters are destroyed and relationships are metaphorically murdered over an antique vase or stamp collection. It's the willful sin of covetousness, or a perceived slight, that bring us to a place of fratricide.
God's precognition to Cain's jealousy, after Cain's almost disconnected attitude to the reality of the upcoming murder, is poignant and soaked in pain. 4:6 Then the LORD said to Cain, 'Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast? If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must...
Rule Over It!"
We don't talk about sin much anymore; we're more inclined to intentionally speak of grace and more intentioned to act as if God has already flushed our dirty stool of sin before we've dumped it. We know that God will forgive us, so we willfully act against what we know to be right. Sin crouches at our door waiting to spring. It is not a devious little imp with pitchfork in hand, it is an attractive option to the goodness of God - it makes us believe that we are gods and it give us the power of God, to create and destroy. But God calls us to rule over that sin - the same sin of our father Adam. Subdue the lurking beast, rule over it and do not let it multiply.
Is there sin in your own life which is crouching outside your door? Or, have you already invited it across the threshold, welcoming it as if a special guest? Do you have rule over sin in your life?
Thursday, April 2, 2015
God of All Comfort
I was thinking of the Lord's Supper in the book of John today in chapter 13. There's not really much about the supper--just that they were in the middle of it when Jesus changes course and stands up. In the middle of the meal. John meticulously records each action in slow detail savoring each memory. It is burned into his mind. He begins to love them "to the end." (1) He takes off his outer garment and lays it aside. He wraps a towel around his waist. He pours water into a basin and then he stares at the feet that lay before him. These feet are calloused and cracked. They are dusty with skin falling off. Some are bloodied. Some have probably stepped in some animal feces along the way. They smell human. These feet are broken and beat up.
The disciples have walked hundreds of miles with Jesus over the years. Maybe as Jesus stares at their feet, he remembers the scar when Andrew stubbed his toe in Cana. Or the thorn that had to be removed from Philip's heel.
It is silent in the upper room. There is no mood music in the background. They watch this one who had made their bodies and souls now kneel before each of them because it is the most important teaching he will ever do.
Peter's response is quite natural. He's proclaimed Jesus as the Messiah, but now the Messiah hovers in front of him wanting to do a slave's work. It's humiliating. Perhaps we think on the eve of the Passover that Jesus would be doing something with great power. But instead we find him caressing the feet in abject servitude.
The God of all comfort makes Peter--makes me, feel uncomfortable. That's what he came to do.
Peter doesn't understand yet, but none of them really do.
They are to love people to the limit. Whatever it takes. However humiliating or embarrassing. Servants of all and masters to none.
The next day Jesus' outer garments would be removed again. He would be bloodied and beaten. His own feet would be washed in his own blood as they were pinned to the tree. He loves to the limit, to the grave, to the divine reach. No matter how humiliating or debasing, Jesus shows what this new command is all about. There is no length to which he won't go for those whom he loves.
And I suppose when we see his work with others at times it embarrasses us. Working with those who seem to most disgust us. The broken ones. Those whose lives are line with scars of stubbed experiences. And yet he sends us out to love them to the limit. To interpret the gospel in such a way that it is visible and credible. No matter how humiliating or debasing. Love to the limit. No matter how uncomfortable. He is the teacher and we are the learners. If we have learned anything, we certainly learn what love is in this.
The disciples have walked hundreds of miles with Jesus over the years. Maybe as Jesus stares at their feet, he remembers the scar when Andrew stubbed his toe in Cana. Or the thorn that had to be removed from Philip's heel.
It is silent in the upper room. There is no mood music in the background. They watch this one who had made their bodies and souls now kneel before each of them because it is the most important teaching he will ever do.
Peter's response is quite natural. He's proclaimed Jesus as the Messiah, but now the Messiah hovers in front of him wanting to do a slave's work. It's humiliating. Perhaps we think on the eve of the Passover that Jesus would be doing something with great power. But instead we find him caressing the feet in abject servitude.
The God of all comfort makes Peter--makes me, feel uncomfortable. That's what he came to do.
Peter doesn't understand yet, but none of them really do.
They are to love people to the limit. Whatever it takes. However humiliating or embarrassing. Servants of all and masters to none.
The next day Jesus' outer garments would be removed again. He would be bloodied and beaten. His own feet would be washed in his own blood as they were pinned to the tree. He loves to the limit, to the grave, to the divine reach. No matter how humiliating or debasing, Jesus shows what this new command is all about. There is no length to which he won't go for those whom he loves.
And I suppose when we see his work with others at times it embarrasses us. Working with those who seem to most disgust us. The broken ones. Those whose lives are line with scars of stubbed experiences. And yet he sends us out to love them to the limit. To interpret the gospel in such a way that it is visible and credible. No matter how humiliating or debasing. Love to the limit. No matter how uncomfortable. He is the teacher and we are the learners. If we have learned anything, we certainly learn what love is in this.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Anti-hero
People find all sorts of reasons to stay away from church, or faith, or worship or anything that smacks of 'religion.' Cloistered inside of a heartache of fear, many would say that 'religion' is bunk because, "I mean, look at all those religious leaders out there - Fred Phelps! He doesn't have a tolerant bone in his body. Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker - C'mon! How many millions of dollars did they bilk out of the faithful? It's just a bunch of hocus pocus. I'm not giving one red cent to anything that has the word 'ministry in it."
Unless you are like my daughter who would like to give her inheritance to attend Hogwarts to be included in the Ministry of Magic.
That being said, Christians in leadership all over the world have, at times, done a poor job of figuring out what it means to make disciples. We've concocted all sorts of ways to condone financing a new building extension, or paying for a new organ, or organizing a new program to 'bring new people in,' that we've neglected the purpose of the tithe in the first place.
The word 'tithe' is not used in the Bible, but the implied meaning is that one gives one tenth of the first fruits of their labor to the Lord. A sacrifice, if you will, designed not to 'appease the gods' but to put in perspective how the gift of life, and its blessings, fit into it. Contrary to popular religious opinion, God does not need our money; he is not going to the poorhouse if I don't place fifty dollars in the plate on Sunday morning and certainly, God is not going to store the bank notes in a heavenly vault to be distributed later on.
But giving has a much different purpose when done out of gratitude. Those that give of their money find that they no longer indebted to serve it. The high point of their week is not collecting their paycheck but distributing it where it is best used.
The problem is, when our money is often given to a church, or a non-profit organization, almost always there is a proviso, or some sort of string attached. We always like to have control, don't we? I've heard this before: "I'd like to donate some of my assets to the church, it's a large some of money, but I want it to go to ________." And the blank is filled in. Or, what can happen is that those that have the money find ways to use their weight to pressure those institutions into making the decisions that they believe are the most 'financially prudent.' There is a reason they made that money, isn't there? Shouldn't we be relying on their wisdom?
Yes, perhaps, but it would be great to see big tithers putting strings on their money that says, "Whatever you do with the gifts that God has given me, I accept, but I would like at least ten percent to go into outreach, or even given away to those who are in need."
I'm sounding cynical, I'm far too aware of it, because I fail at this 'freely giving' all the time. I see what I have earned and believe that it is somehow mine but then I give it to the church and my fear - yes my fear - is that the head of the church will be like Jim and Tammy Faye and soon enough, the pastor of the church will be driving a brand new Mercedes and living in a ten million dollar house. Just the last week, Joel Osteen was seen trying to give a reason for the fact that he is being paid multimillions to be a 'shepherd.' Yes, he is good at what he does, but is this the very essence of why people stay away from religion in the first place? Is it not just another business?
Wow, I'm cynical. I'm sorry about this, but the world needs a heroic figure, not an anti-hero (and I'm not saying that Jim, Tammy Faye and Joel are anti-heroes), but we need a servant figure, one who strives, Christ-like, to be the leading edge in transformational, sacrificial life. I keep hoping that one will arrive, one that I can follow, one that I can emulate - but then I am convicted again and again that each one of us is called to be that sacrificial person. Instead of being enslaved to pointing fingers at religious leaders that perhaps have not been entirely honorable, I should be freed to be who God has made me to be - a Theophilus. A God-lover. One who loves God and loves others with all the gifts that God has given us. No strings attached.
Looking forward to any feedback. I might be completely off and I will eat crow and swallow it too.
Unless you are like my daughter who would like to give her inheritance to attend Hogwarts to be included in the Ministry of Magic.
That being said, Christians in leadership all over the world have, at times, done a poor job of figuring out what it means to make disciples. We've concocted all sorts of ways to condone financing a new building extension, or paying for a new organ, or organizing a new program to 'bring new people in,' that we've neglected the purpose of the tithe in the first place.
The word 'tithe' is not used in the Bible, but the implied meaning is that one gives one tenth of the first fruits of their labor to the Lord. A sacrifice, if you will, designed not to 'appease the gods' but to put in perspective how the gift of life, and its blessings, fit into it. Contrary to popular religious opinion, God does not need our money; he is not going to the poorhouse if I don't place fifty dollars in the plate on Sunday morning and certainly, God is not going to store the bank notes in a heavenly vault to be distributed later on.
But giving has a much different purpose when done out of gratitude. Those that give of their money find that they no longer indebted to serve it. The high point of their week is not collecting their paycheck but distributing it where it is best used.
The problem is, when our money is often given to a church, or a non-profit organization, almost always there is a proviso, or some sort of string attached. We always like to have control, don't we? I've heard this before: "I'd like to donate some of my assets to the church, it's a large some of money, but I want it to go to ________." And the blank is filled in. Or, what can happen is that those that have the money find ways to use their weight to pressure those institutions into making the decisions that they believe are the most 'financially prudent.' There is a reason they made that money, isn't there? Shouldn't we be relying on their wisdom?
Yes, perhaps, but it would be great to see big tithers putting strings on their money that says, "Whatever you do with the gifts that God has given me, I accept, but I would like at least ten percent to go into outreach, or even given away to those who are in need."
I'm sounding cynical, I'm far too aware of it, because I fail at this 'freely giving' all the time. I see what I have earned and believe that it is somehow mine but then I give it to the church and my fear - yes my fear - is that the head of the church will be like Jim and Tammy Faye and soon enough, the pastor of the church will be driving a brand new Mercedes and living in a ten million dollar house. Just the last week, Joel Osteen was seen trying to give a reason for the fact that he is being paid multimillions to be a 'shepherd.' Yes, he is good at what he does, but is this the very essence of why people stay away from religion in the first place? Is it not just another business?
Wow, I'm cynical. I'm sorry about this, but the world needs a heroic figure, not an anti-hero (and I'm not saying that Jim, Tammy Faye and Joel are anti-heroes), but we need a servant figure, one who strives, Christ-like, to be the leading edge in transformational, sacrificial life. I keep hoping that one will arrive, one that I can follow, one that I can emulate - but then I am convicted again and again that each one of us is called to be that sacrificial person. Instead of being enslaved to pointing fingers at religious leaders that perhaps have not been entirely honorable, I should be freed to be who God has made me to be - a Theophilus. A God-lover. One who loves God and loves others with all the gifts that God has given us. No strings attached.
Looking forward to any feedback. I might be completely off and I will eat crow and swallow it too.
Saturday, March 28, 2015
A Hero
I don't think a reenactment of this Bible passage would go over so well today:
Luke 19:28-34 After Jesus had said this, he went on ahead, going to Jerusalem. As he approached Bathphage and Bethany at the hill called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples, saying to them, "Go to the village ahead of you, and as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, 'Why are you untying it?' tell him, 'The Lord needs it.'"
Those who were sent ahead went and found it just as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, "Why are you untying the colt?"
They replied, "The Lord needs it."
If you are anything like me, when this bible verse comes through the yearly lectionary, you skip over the absurdity of it. Yeah, yeah, I've heard this before - the people start pulling down their palm trees, soil their coats and start screaming at Jesus on a donkey, begging him to save them. My familiarity with the story breeds not contempt, but contentedness in the 'niceness' of the story. Jesus gets the disciples to head on ahead and prepare the way by securing some transportation which will allow him to head down the mountain to Jerusalem in style.
But that's nothing like the story - nothing at all.
Somehow, somewhere, Jesus knows about a colt (or donkey, depending on the gospel) and tells two of his disciples to go untie it and bring it to him and if anyone protests, tell him 'The Lord needs it.' Riiiiiight....
I tried to picture in my head if I asked my daughters to head into the next town, say, Laidley and find a nice, new Ford sitting in someone's driveway - probably someone that I knew - and I told the girls to say, "My father needs this. He needs to get to Brisbane posthaste (that sounds more biblical)." I'm sure the owners of said vehicle would simply enter the house, grab the keys to the brand new Mustang and plop them in Elsa's hand with just a short question of purpose.
Talk about a simple act of heroism - or even an incredible act of faith.
In the book of Luke, the owner of the colt (unnamed) is not even given words of justification - it is simply left as an assumption, or an implication, that the one who comes in the name of the Lord, or even uses the Lord's name, is given rights over that object. In this incredible act of faith by the colt's owner, we are left to ponder how God's name could have that kind of power over the materialism in the world. The owner isn't even promised that the colt will be brought back - only that the Lord needs it.
What would you think if someone showed up at your doorstep today and said, "We need to take your (Fill in the blank with a prized possession) the Lord needs it." How many of us would be willing to part with it, or even harder for many people - part with a portion of their income? How many would willingly, without a word, drop the keys, the guitar case, the checkbook (do we remember what those look like) or the calendar of our time into the hands of those who come in the name of the Lord?
Anyone? Beuller? Anyone?
The colt owner, in my opinion has proven his faith and his heroism by sacrificial, non-reserved-no-strings-attached giving.
That's truly sacrificial heroism.
Maybe tomorrow we'll write a little about the abuses of the Lord's name and the damage that it has caused; how it has not only stifled sacrificial heroism, but has caused people not to call out to the Lord. The abuse of God's name has caused them to curse him.
Luke 19:28-34 After Jesus had said this, he went on ahead, going to Jerusalem. As he approached Bathphage and Bethany at the hill called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples, saying to them, "Go to the village ahead of you, and as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, 'Why are you untying it?' tell him, 'The Lord needs it.'"
Those who were sent ahead went and found it just as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, "Why are you untying the colt?"
They replied, "The Lord needs it."
If you are anything like me, when this bible verse comes through the yearly lectionary, you skip over the absurdity of it. Yeah, yeah, I've heard this before - the people start pulling down their palm trees, soil their coats and start screaming at Jesus on a donkey, begging him to save them. My familiarity with the story breeds not contempt, but contentedness in the 'niceness' of the story. Jesus gets the disciples to head on ahead and prepare the way by securing some transportation which will allow him to head down the mountain to Jerusalem in style.
But that's nothing like the story - nothing at all.
Somehow, somewhere, Jesus knows about a colt (or donkey, depending on the gospel) and tells two of his disciples to go untie it and bring it to him and if anyone protests, tell him 'The Lord needs it.' Riiiiiight....
I tried to picture in my head if I asked my daughters to head into the next town, say, Laidley and find a nice, new Ford sitting in someone's driveway - probably someone that I knew - and I told the girls to say, "My father needs this. He needs to get to Brisbane posthaste (that sounds more biblical)." I'm sure the owners of said vehicle would simply enter the house, grab the keys to the brand new Mustang and plop them in Elsa's hand with just a short question of purpose.
Talk about a simple act of heroism - or even an incredible act of faith.
In the book of Luke, the owner of the colt (unnamed) is not even given words of justification - it is simply left as an assumption, or an implication, that the one who comes in the name of the Lord, or even uses the Lord's name, is given rights over that object. In this incredible act of faith by the colt's owner, we are left to ponder how God's name could have that kind of power over the materialism in the world. The owner isn't even promised that the colt will be brought back - only that the Lord needs it.
What would you think if someone showed up at your doorstep today and said, "We need to take your (Fill in the blank with a prized possession) the Lord needs it." How many of us would be willing to part with it, or even harder for many people - part with a portion of their income? How many would willingly, without a word, drop the keys, the guitar case, the checkbook (do we remember what those look like) or the calendar of our time into the hands of those who come in the name of the Lord?
Anyone? Beuller? Anyone?
The colt owner, in my opinion has proven his faith and his heroism by sacrificial, non-reserved-no-strings-attached giving.
That's truly sacrificial heroism.
Maybe tomorrow we'll write a little about the abuses of the Lord's name and the damage that it has caused; how it has not only stifled sacrificial heroism, but has caused people not to call out to the Lord. The abuse of God's name has caused them to curse him.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Seeking the Dead Among the Living
I haven't written for a while, but neither has Reid, so I thought I'd jot a few notes that are on my heart today. Reid, add your own thoughts too. I'm not analyzing this story in all its minutiae.
I'm reading through the Lazarus story in John 11 this morning. As Good Friday's cross begins to cast a shadow on this spring day, it's good for me to be brought to this pinnacle of the book of John. This "sign" is in the exact middle of the book of John. Everything--all of the miracles, all of the teaching, all of the mentoring--it's all pointing toward this moment. It is a long chapter. It seems as if John savors every moment of it in the post-resurrection remembering. It is the story of God who loves fiercely and visibly. God shows this sign so that people might believe that every natural and supernatural power are under his control. Jesus "He Who Saves" comes to the rescue of Lazarus "He Whom God Helps". As a reader and hearer, I am brought to utter the words of Thomas in v. 16, "Let us also go, that we may die with him." This is the last sign of Jesus (other than the resurrection, but that's THE event). From this day until the empty tomb, significantly, Jesus signs and wonders cease.
Jesus really did love this family, but oddly he chooses to stay a couple of extra days away when he hears his friend is sick. He deliberately, yes deliberately allows Lazarus to die and his sisters to grieve. There can be no confusion as to his power. In the past, whether it was the Widow of Nain or Jairus, Jesus went immediately. In those two resurrection stories, we don't get the intense emotional reaction of Jesus toward their deaths. They seem utterly simplistic. But here, as Jesus prepares to enter Jerusalem for the last time, it seems that he is seeing beyond the situation of Lazarus toward his own.
The disciples are confused with Jesus words. If Lazarus is asleep, why would Jesus needlessly risk his life in order to rouse someone from an extended nap? They are manifestly unprepared for the spiritual shock of faith that is to come. They are upset with Jesus. If we could reverse a statement for a moment and understand this through their eyes. Why are you looking for the dead among the living? And of course, though Luke records it, the angels ask "Why do you seek the living among the dead?"
Jesus says, "Our friend is asleep. I go to wake him up."
We could probably just dwell on those words all day and for the next ten. This is the hope of the world. It is the extent and the strength of God. It is the event that turns the religious establishment fatally against Jesus. We may wonder why people would rather people stay dead, but that's for another discussion. Here it is enough that Jesus goes to rouse Lazarus from his stony mattress.
And Lazarus is raised. Jesus has poured out his tears of love, frustration, anger and hatred of the enemy over the entrance of the tomb. He has been moved to his very core to understand that the resurrection of this man would not solve the dilemma of the world. It would be his own resurrection that would be the cure. But in order for there to be a resurrection there must be the cessation of his own breath.
We are all Lazari in our own right--those whom God helps. We are all loved by God to death and through death. And every morning, when you groan your first yawn, maybe smile a bit too. Jesus has promised to go and wake you up too.
I'm reading through the Lazarus story in John 11 this morning. As Good Friday's cross begins to cast a shadow on this spring day, it's good for me to be brought to this pinnacle of the book of John. This "sign" is in the exact middle of the book of John. Everything--all of the miracles, all of the teaching, all of the mentoring--it's all pointing toward this moment. It is a long chapter. It seems as if John savors every moment of it in the post-resurrection remembering. It is the story of God who loves fiercely and visibly. God shows this sign so that people might believe that every natural and supernatural power are under his control. Jesus "He Who Saves" comes to the rescue of Lazarus "He Whom God Helps". As a reader and hearer, I am brought to utter the words of Thomas in v. 16, "Let us also go, that we may die with him." This is the last sign of Jesus (other than the resurrection, but that's THE event). From this day until the empty tomb, significantly, Jesus signs and wonders cease.
Jesus really did love this family, but oddly he chooses to stay a couple of extra days away when he hears his friend is sick. He deliberately, yes deliberately allows Lazarus to die and his sisters to grieve. There can be no confusion as to his power. In the past, whether it was the Widow of Nain or Jairus, Jesus went immediately. In those two resurrection stories, we don't get the intense emotional reaction of Jesus toward their deaths. They seem utterly simplistic. But here, as Jesus prepares to enter Jerusalem for the last time, it seems that he is seeing beyond the situation of Lazarus toward his own.
The disciples are confused with Jesus words. If Lazarus is asleep, why would Jesus needlessly risk his life in order to rouse someone from an extended nap? They are manifestly unprepared for the spiritual shock of faith that is to come. They are upset with Jesus. If we could reverse a statement for a moment and understand this through their eyes. Why are you looking for the dead among the living? And of course, though Luke records it, the angels ask "Why do you seek the living among the dead?"
Jesus says, "Our friend is asleep. I go to wake him up."
We could probably just dwell on those words all day and for the next ten. This is the hope of the world. It is the extent and the strength of God. It is the event that turns the religious establishment fatally against Jesus. We may wonder why people would rather people stay dead, but that's for another discussion. Here it is enough that Jesus goes to rouse Lazarus from his stony mattress.
And Lazarus is raised. Jesus has poured out his tears of love, frustration, anger and hatred of the enemy over the entrance of the tomb. He has been moved to his very core to understand that the resurrection of this man would not solve the dilemma of the world. It would be his own resurrection that would be the cure. But in order for there to be a resurrection there must be the cessation of his own breath.
We are all Lazari in our own right--those whom God helps. We are all loved by God to death and through death. And every morning, when you groan your first yawn, maybe smile a bit too. Jesus has promised to go and wake you up too.
Monday, March 16, 2015
Impatient patients
I can only imagine Moses believing that he was traveling around in the wilderness with a million 7-year-olds. It may truly be the age of impatience--children who are sick and tired of travelling, or are so incredibly emotive that most of the ride or walk they are "dying" of hunger, "dying" of thirst, or the worst, "dying" of boredom. Rarely do they speak about the beautiful things of the journey. They persist in bashing that which is uncomfortable for them. They deserve better. They deserve more.
By the time we encounter Numbers 21, some unfortunate things have occurred in the lives of the Israelites. Miriam and Aaron have died. The Edomites have refused to let them travel through their country. Moses and Aaron struck a rock for water rather than spoke to it. It is a jumble of mini-catastrophies that find their apex in chapter 21. Rebellious hearts combined with short memories have embroiled a group riot against Moses and his leadership for God. They believe that Moses has no idea what he is doing. They've seen the Red Sea before. Why are they going there again? If they can beat Arad, why can't they beat Edom? And now the kicker. We still have the same food, which in their minds is no food at all. They rebel. They scream. They throw a tantrum. "We loathe this worthless food!" (5) The miracle of God, the bread of contentment, has now become something they despise.
And before we go off on some self-righteous rant, we better see our own breaths fog up the mirror first. What miracles of God do I find little contentment in? I wake up with aching muscles and joints and wonder why do I always have to hurt? (You can walk, child.) Why does it have to be so cold? (I am a God of creative wonder.) Why? Why? Why?
For the Israelites, God gives a consequence of wonder. He draws them back to Eden when their first parents would despise the serpent. The snake was always a reminder of their sin and now it has come to bite them in the, ahem...The serpents are sin personified--well--reptilified. They are the visible evidence of what sin has done since the fall. And now they plead for God to take them away.
God does what he does. There are consequences, but there also may be healing. "Fashion a fiery serpent and set it on a wooden pole, and everyone who is bitten, when he sees it, shall live." Notice God doesn't take the serpents away. He makes the people stare at the picture of their sin on a pole. It is hideous and horrible. God wants them to fix their eyes on the offense.
God wants us to fix our eyes on the offense. To cement our eyes on the pole to which is pinned the consequences of our sins. He who knew no sin became sins that we might become the righteousness of God. (2 Cor. 5) Fortunately, we are also to fix our ears to the echo of the empty tomb. And fix our lives to the resurrected Christ who left our offense in the grave where it rightfully belongs.
And so this day, we have nothing to complain about on our journey. We are not dying of hunger, thirst or boredom. We are dying to see Jesus who is the author and perfecter of faith.
By the time we encounter Numbers 21, some unfortunate things have occurred in the lives of the Israelites. Miriam and Aaron have died. The Edomites have refused to let them travel through their country. Moses and Aaron struck a rock for water rather than spoke to it. It is a jumble of mini-catastrophies that find their apex in chapter 21. Rebellious hearts combined with short memories have embroiled a group riot against Moses and his leadership for God. They believe that Moses has no idea what he is doing. They've seen the Red Sea before. Why are they going there again? If they can beat Arad, why can't they beat Edom? And now the kicker. We still have the same food, which in their minds is no food at all. They rebel. They scream. They throw a tantrum. "We loathe this worthless food!" (5) The miracle of God, the bread of contentment, has now become something they despise.
And before we go off on some self-righteous rant, we better see our own breaths fog up the mirror first. What miracles of God do I find little contentment in? I wake up with aching muscles and joints and wonder why do I always have to hurt? (You can walk, child.) Why does it have to be so cold? (I am a God of creative wonder.) Why? Why? Why?
For the Israelites, God gives a consequence of wonder. He draws them back to Eden when their first parents would despise the serpent. The snake was always a reminder of their sin and now it has come to bite them in the, ahem...The serpents are sin personified--well--reptilified. They are the visible evidence of what sin has done since the fall. And now they plead for God to take them away.
God does what he does. There are consequences, but there also may be healing. "Fashion a fiery serpent and set it on a wooden pole, and everyone who is bitten, when he sees it, shall live." Notice God doesn't take the serpents away. He makes the people stare at the picture of their sin on a pole. It is hideous and horrible. God wants them to fix their eyes on the offense.
God wants us to fix our eyes on the offense. To cement our eyes on the pole to which is pinned the consequences of our sins. He who knew no sin became sins that we might become the righteousness of God. (2 Cor. 5) Fortunately, we are also to fix our ears to the echo of the empty tomb. And fix our lives to the resurrected Christ who left our offense in the grave where it rightfully belongs.
And so this day, we have nothing to complain about on our journey. We are not dying of hunger, thirst or boredom. We are dying to see Jesus who is the author and perfecter of faith.
Saturday, March 7, 2015
Being Blind
Ryan and I weren't born blind, but it was close enough.
I can remember those days in junior high when we got contact lenses so we wouldn't have to wear glasses thick enough to set our upper cheekbones on fire when we walked out into the sun. Contact lenses were okay at first, but eventually, no matter how well you took care of them (which we normally didn't) they still felt grainy after a while. I longed to be like some other kids who never had to wear glasses or contacts. I desperately wanted to be able to see my alarm clock at night without actually picking it up and putting it four inches from my face.
I didn't like being kind of blind.
It all changed about ten years ago when Christine said that she wanted to gift me the present of non-glasses sight. She booked me an appointment with the doctor who could perform Lasik surgery on my eyes. As I sat and talked with him, he went through the risks of Lasik, permanent blindness being one of them, but also intense discomfort from the slicing back of the lens and then the actual reshaping of the corneas using a laser.
I couldn't get Austin Powers' voice out of my head when he said 'laser beam.'
Anyway, he delicately took me through the process and I had a decision to make: either put up with semi-sight for the rest of my life, or go through the describedly painful process so that I could finally see.
I went for the second option. As the operation day dawned, I was given valium which slowed me down a little bit, but when the doctor put me into the chair, I was pretty aware of what was happening. Then, as he pulled my eyes open a la A Clockwork Orange, I still got nervous. Anxious enough that when my lenses were pulled back I started to pass out. It wasn't that painful, really, but my brain was on overload and I don't actually think that I was breathing enough. The doctor started yelling into my face, "Wake up! Wake up!" Yeesh.
Then, the burning smell. I'm not going to describe it much other than the odor of duck pinfeathers being singed.
It only took five minutes per eye - who would have thunk it? - but it seemed like an eternity before he put the pads over my eyes. These had to stay in place for a whole day so that my lenses could heal; therefore, I was literally without sight for the day and night wondering if in fact the surgery worked or I would be perpetually without sight.
The next day dawned (without light in my case) and on pins and needles I waited for the appointment so the doc could remove the patches. As I groped my way to the car, my brain went to worst case scenario. I was already buying one of those red and white canes and a harness connected to a golden retriever.
Sitting in the chair in front of him, he spoke calmly to me and then he ripped the tape from my eyebrows. (This was probably more painful than the surgery itself.) Slowly but surely I opened my eyes and for the first time in my recordable life, I could see across the room without visual aids. I looked at Christine who had her hands teepeed in front of her face, expectantly hopeful that her gift was not a curse.
And then I smiled. Life was new. Life was different. I could finally see. The song made sense: Was blind but now I see!
Things that had been previously hidden to me were revealed. I could see the horizon; I could view leaves on trees across the street; I didn't have to squint at the chalkboard. I was reborn.
Perhaps this is what Paul felt when the scales fell from his eyes on his trip to Damascus recorded in Acts 9. Paul was blinded by all sorts of things - spiritually blinded more so. His inability to see God's plan in Christ, perhaps his own pride and position in his own Pharisaism, had blinded him to the path set apart for him and it wasn't until the Great Physician showed up on the Road that Paul heard the difficult part of the journey coming. There would be some pain, certainly some confusion and temporary blindness; there would be a moment of anxiety of planning for an unimaginable future.
But the choice was his. He didn't have to allow Christ to change him, but he did. And after the scales fell from his eyes, he finally understood with startling clarity that which was being asked of him. To preach the good news to the Gentiles - those people who just a few days before were considered unclean.
Talk about confusion and pain.
But the sight of Christ calms confusion and angst and when those scales which caused our spiritual blindness fall from our eyes, we recognize two things: God's grace saves us through Christ and that God's continual plan for the body of Christ can use our giftedness to share the news of grace to a world that seems graceless.
What are the things that are blinding you at this point in your life? What are you afraid of? What would change for you if you found your own Damascus road experience?
I can remember those days in junior high when we got contact lenses so we wouldn't have to wear glasses thick enough to set our upper cheekbones on fire when we walked out into the sun. Contact lenses were okay at first, but eventually, no matter how well you took care of them (which we normally didn't) they still felt grainy after a while. I longed to be like some other kids who never had to wear glasses or contacts. I desperately wanted to be able to see my alarm clock at night without actually picking it up and putting it four inches from my face.
I didn't like being kind of blind.
It all changed about ten years ago when Christine said that she wanted to gift me the present of non-glasses sight. She booked me an appointment with the doctor who could perform Lasik surgery on my eyes. As I sat and talked with him, he went through the risks of Lasik, permanent blindness being one of them, but also intense discomfort from the slicing back of the lens and then the actual reshaping of the corneas using a laser.
I couldn't get Austin Powers' voice out of my head when he said 'laser beam.'
Anyway, he delicately took me through the process and I had a decision to make: either put up with semi-sight for the rest of my life, or go through the describedly painful process so that I could finally see.
I went for the second option. As the operation day dawned, I was given valium which slowed me down a little bit, but when the doctor put me into the chair, I was pretty aware of what was happening. Then, as he pulled my eyes open a la A Clockwork Orange, I still got nervous. Anxious enough that when my lenses were pulled back I started to pass out. It wasn't that painful, really, but my brain was on overload and I don't actually think that I was breathing enough. The doctor started yelling into my face, "Wake up! Wake up!" Yeesh.
Then, the burning smell. I'm not going to describe it much other than the odor of duck pinfeathers being singed.
It only took five minutes per eye - who would have thunk it? - but it seemed like an eternity before he put the pads over my eyes. These had to stay in place for a whole day so that my lenses could heal; therefore, I was literally without sight for the day and night wondering if in fact the surgery worked or I would be perpetually without sight.
The next day dawned (without light in my case) and on pins and needles I waited for the appointment so the doc could remove the patches. As I groped my way to the car, my brain went to worst case scenario. I was already buying one of those red and white canes and a harness connected to a golden retriever.
Sitting in the chair in front of him, he spoke calmly to me and then he ripped the tape from my eyebrows. (This was probably more painful than the surgery itself.) Slowly but surely I opened my eyes and for the first time in my recordable life, I could see across the room without visual aids. I looked at Christine who had her hands teepeed in front of her face, expectantly hopeful that her gift was not a curse.
And then I smiled. Life was new. Life was different. I could finally see. The song made sense: Was blind but now I see!
Things that had been previously hidden to me were revealed. I could see the horizon; I could view leaves on trees across the street; I didn't have to squint at the chalkboard. I was reborn.
Perhaps this is what Paul felt when the scales fell from his eyes on his trip to Damascus recorded in Acts 9. Paul was blinded by all sorts of things - spiritually blinded more so. His inability to see God's plan in Christ, perhaps his own pride and position in his own Pharisaism, had blinded him to the path set apart for him and it wasn't until the Great Physician showed up on the Road that Paul heard the difficult part of the journey coming. There would be some pain, certainly some confusion and temporary blindness; there would be a moment of anxiety of planning for an unimaginable future.
But the choice was his. He didn't have to allow Christ to change him, but he did. And after the scales fell from his eyes, he finally understood with startling clarity that which was being asked of him. To preach the good news to the Gentiles - those people who just a few days before were considered unclean.
Talk about confusion and pain.
But the sight of Christ calms confusion and angst and when those scales which caused our spiritual blindness fall from our eyes, we recognize two things: God's grace saves us through Christ and that God's continual plan for the body of Christ can use our giftedness to share the news of grace to a world that seems graceless.
What are the things that are blinding you at this point in your life? What are you afraid of? What would change for you if you found your own Damascus road experience?
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Why?
The question 'Why?' is put forth five-hundred and ten times in the Bible. Not all are a question of inquisitiveness; some are descriptions - (this is why something happened) - but more often than not, the question becomes an accusation. After praying for God to allow them to have a family, Rebekah becomes pregnant and when the boys struggle inside of her during the pregnancy she asks, "If it is to be this way, why do I live?" (Genesis 25:22)
Often when we get what we ask for (or even get what we deserve) we ask God 'why' to accuse him for not fulfilling all of our wishes. I would guess we've all done that at least once or twice, but usually the question stays hidden deep in our spiritual emptiness. We don't want to ask God why he has allowed something to happen (the pious way of saying it) or accuse him directly of manipulating our lives, ruining them, for fear that something even worse will happen.
It doesn't seem like the biblical figures had that issue. They never seemed to fear asking (or accusing) God with the question 'Why?'
You will be in the right, O LORD, when I lay charges against you; but let me put my case to you (anyway). Why does the way of the guilty prosper? Why do all who are treacherous thrive? You plant them, and they take root; they grow and bring forth fruit; you are near in their mouths yet far from their hearts. (Jeremiah 12:1,2)
This seems like the antithesis of what we wrote about yesterday, that the wicked shall not prosper and certainly not bear fruit. Jeremiah accuses God of actually planting those people there to be thorns in the side of the people of Israel and when they take root, they are taking what belongs to the people of Israel.
The question 'Why' continues to resound in minds and hearts of the faithful and non-faithful alike. The faithful ask the question when they feel like their faith is being attacked. The non-believer asks the question to somehow validate their own disbelief that there is no God, that somehow God should reward all people at all times, that somehow trials and tribulations are a sign that God is impotent, not omnipotent.
When the disciples ask Jesus a question in the book of John about a blind man, the question is changed from 'Why?' into something entirely ignorant of the way God works. "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born blind?" (John 9:2)
Instead of asking 'why?' the disciples have an understanding, passed down through the generations, that a powerful God is a punishing God, one that continues to punish through layers of family dynamics (which does happen sometimes). Jesus responds, "Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God's works might be revealed in him." (John 9:3)
The difficult part to understand is that God's works could have been revealed in that man even if his sight was not restored, but Jesus' nature was revealed in that brief passage: the God who answers the question 'Why?' in the midst of softened criticism or accusation. I'll tell you why things happen: because this world is a broken place and even in the midst of spiritual blindness, I can open eyes again, I can bring light to this world, I can restore you all to God. That's why.
There is nothing wrong with questioning God about what happens in life. If the biblical heroes can take their time to address what they believe to be an injustice, why can't you? Why can't I? But we might be surprised by the answer that comes a little later in life.
Often when we get what we ask for (or even get what we deserve) we ask God 'why' to accuse him for not fulfilling all of our wishes. I would guess we've all done that at least once or twice, but usually the question stays hidden deep in our spiritual emptiness. We don't want to ask God why he has allowed something to happen (the pious way of saying it) or accuse him directly of manipulating our lives, ruining them, for fear that something even worse will happen.
It doesn't seem like the biblical figures had that issue. They never seemed to fear asking (or accusing) God with the question 'Why?'
You will be in the right, O LORD, when I lay charges against you; but let me put my case to you (anyway). Why does the way of the guilty prosper? Why do all who are treacherous thrive? You plant them, and they take root; they grow and bring forth fruit; you are near in their mouths yet far from their hearts. (Jeremiah 12:1,2)
This seems like the antithesis of what we wrote about yesterday, that the wicked shall not prosper and certainly not bear fruit. Jeremiah accuses God of actually planting those people there to be thorns in the side of the people of Israel and when they take root, they are taking what belongs to the people of Israel.
The question 'Why' continues to resound in minds and hearts of the faithful and non-faithful alike. The faithful ask the question when they feel like their faith is being attacked. The non-believer asks the question to somehow validate their own disbelief that there is no God, that somehow God should reward all people at all times, that somehow trials and tribulations are a sign that God is impotent, not omnipotent.
When the disciples ask Jesus a question in the book of John about a blind man, the question is changed from 'Why?' into something entirely ignorant of the way God works. "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born blind?" (John 9:2)
Instead of asking 'why?' the disciples have an understanding, passed down through the generations, that a powerful God is a punishing God, one that continues to punish through layers of family dynamics (which does happen sometimes). Jesus responds, "Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God's works might be revealed in him." (John 9:3)
The difficult part to understand is that God's works could have been revealed in that man even if his sight was not restored, but Jesus' nature was revealed in that brief passage: the God who answers the question 'Why?' in the midst of softened criticism or accusation. I'll tell you why things happen: because this world is a broken place and even in the midst of spiritual blindness, I can open eyes again, I can bring light to this world, I can restore you all to God. That's why.
There is nothing wrong with questioning God about what happens in life. If the biblical heroes can take their time to address what they believe to be an injustice, why can't you? Why can't I? But we might be surprised by the answer that comes a little later in life.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Fans
Oh, Heavens to Betsy. That begs for a response. I wasn't going to write today, but you, sir, have forced my hand. Just a little rant about the Yanks and then we'll go from there. Most Christians should understand the Yankees and should be Yankee fans for the mere fact that we were bought with a price. AND...if you believe that the Yanks buy the championship (which is an absolute falsehood because we (yes we) haven't won one since 2009), Christ also won it all for us. Following the logic, then, we have won and therefore should all be Chrankees. (Yes, I put Christians and Yankees together. There's my heresy for the day.)
As David focuses on the "wicked" he brings us back to the postures of the first two verses. The word stand is used as an identifier. Who you stand with implies with which group you identify. "I can't stand it" when... We use this phrase as language to stay that we are not comfortable with a particular behavior or belief. The wicked will not stand in judgment. The will be knocked to their knees in grief. They will not be a part of the congregation, or the "forest of the forgiven" as the picture language in verse 3 gives us.
Unfortunately, in the world we live in right now, wicked is not view as wicked and transgressions are not scorned. As the rarely quoted book of 3 John reminds us, "Beloved, do no imitate evil but imitate good. Whoever does good is from God; whoever does evil has not seen God." (v. 11) The Lord knows the way of the righteous. He sees it in the vision of the church. He moves us to call the wicked to repentance in order that the "championship" won for us by Christ may be celebrated by all of his fans someday.
Standing for your team often involves some measure of ridicule. Whether a Hawkeye fan in Nebraska, a Mets fan in Australia, or a Christian in a place that is not our home, we know with whom we stand. Paul says, "But I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed, and I am convinced that he is able to guard until that Day what has been entrusted to me." 2 Timothy 1:12 And then he begs Timothy and all believers to stand with him in that great and glorious gospel.
For now, the wicked seem to have their way. But when Christ returns, the world will hear the loudest cheering in the history of mankind, by the forgiven fans of Jesus.
As David focuses on the "wicked" he brings us back to the postures of the first two verses. The word stand is used as an identifier. Who you stand with implies with which group you identify. "I can't stand it" when... We use this phrase as language to stay that we are not comfortable with a particular behavior or belief. The wicked will not stand in judgment. The will be knocked to their knees in grief. They will not be a part of the congregation, or the "forest of the forgiven" as the picture language in verse 3 gives us.
Unfortunately, in the world we live in right now, wicked is not view as wicked and transgressions are not scorned. As the rarely quoted book of 3 John reminds us, "Beloved, do no imitate evil but imitate good. Whoever does good is from God; whoever does evil has not seen God." (v. 11) The Lord knows the way of the righteous. He sees it in the vision of the church. He moves us to call the wicked to repentance in order that the "championship" won for us by Christ may be celebrated by all of his fans someday.
Standing for your team often involves some measure of ridicule. Whether a Hawkeye fan in Nebraska, a Mets fan in Australia, or a Christian in a place that is not our home, we know with whom we stand. Paul says, "But I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed, and I am convinced that he is able to guard until that Day what has been entrusted to me." 2 Timothy 1:12 And then he begs Timothy and all believers to stand with him in that great and glorious gospel.
For now, the wicked seem to have their way. But when Christ returns, the world will hear the loudest cheering in the history of mankind, by the forgiven fans of Jesus.
The Wicked
Not so the wicked. They are like chaff that the wind blows away. Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous. For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked will perish. Psalm 1:4-6
I've seen a lot of movies. Our cabinet is full of them; half of them have some kind of animated character the rest have completely human actors. Even though the story lines are vastly different, they all carry something of the of the same plot:
There are good guys and there are bad guys. Bad guys always seem to be winning; their unscrupulous ways seem to bring them to the forefront of prosperity and popularity and the good guys wallow in misery until the very end when their moral fidelity is rewarded with... well, that depends on the movie. Sometimes the reward is getting the girl (or guy), sometimes it's getting the promotion; but sometimes the reward itself (for the good guys, or girls) is to see the bad guys fall from their pedestal.
I like it when that happens.
In the baseball world, I think most would say that the New York Yankees are universally known collectively as 'the wicked.' The owner of the Red Sox, John Henry, went so far as to call them the 'Evil Empire,' which, of course, is an allusion to Star Wars galactic battle between the rebel alliance and the black hole of good-sucking evil. In recent years the Yankees have swallowed most of their Pride, and at the cost of buying championships, can be seen as chaff blowing in the wind. Ryan, for some unknown reason - he's really such a great guy - has been pulled in by the tractor beam of the Death Star (Yankees) and can't seem to escape their clutches. That doesn't make my brother a bad guy, I guess, but it does make me have all sorts of glee when the Evil Empire falls from the playoffs, or has a few guys who are taking 'supplements' and have to face the media storm, or a certain shortstop that can barely hit his weight in the last year of his career.
Is that what the Psalmist is talking about when "The Lord watches over the way of the righteous and the way of the wicked will parish?"
Probably not, but it is certainly fun to write.
The psalmist is certainly describing what it's like not to be planted near the stream. Instead of producing fruit, the wicked seem to be tossed about with chasing after things that are temporal, while the one who delights in the law of the LORD is rooted in life sustaining water. We have an opportunity to walk in the way of righteousness, not sit, stand or walk with the Wicked. We have an opportunity to have our footsteps watched by the Holy One, while the way of those who chase after the wind will ultimately perish.
It's just timing.
Tomorrow, either Ryan or I will take on these three verses in relation to Jeremiah 12. Should be fun! Read ahead.
I've seen a lot of movies. Our cabinet is full of them; half of them have some kind of animated character the rest have completely human actors. Even though the story lines are vastly different, they all carry something of the of the same plot:
There are good guys and there are bad guys. Bad guys always seem to be winning; their unscrupulous ways seem to bring them to the forefront of prosperity and popularity and the good guys wallow in misery until the very end when their moral fidelity is rewarded with... well, that depends on the movie. Sometimes the reward is getting the girl (or guy), sometimes it's getting the promotion; but sometimes the reward itself (for the good guys, or girls) is to see the bad guys fall from their pedestal.
I like it when that happens.
In the baseball world, I think most would say that the New York Yankees are universally known collectively as 'the wicked.' The owner of the Red Sox, John Henry, went so far as to call them the 'Evil Empire,' which, of course, is an allusion to Star Wars galactic battle between the rebel alliance and the black hole of good-sucking evil. In recent years the Yankees have swallowed most of their Pride, and at the cost of buying championships, can be seen as chaff blowing in the wind. Ryan, for some unknown reason - he's really such a great guy - has been pulled in by the tractor beam of the Death Star (Yankees) and can't seem to escape their clutches. That doesn't make my brother a bad guy, I guess, but it does make me have all sorts of glee when the Evil Empire falls from the playoffs, or has a few guys who are taking 'supplements' and have to face the media storm, or a certain shortstop that can barely hit his weight in the last year of his career.
Is that what the Psalmist is talking about when "The Lord watches over the way of the righteous and the way of the wicked will parish?"
Probably not, but it is certainly fun to write.
The psalmist is certainly describing what it's like not to be planted near the stream. Instead of producing fruit, the wicked seem to be tossed about with chasing after things that are temporal, while the one who delights in the law of the LORD is rooted in life sustaining water. We have an opportunity to walk in the way of righteousness, not sit, stand or walk with the Wicked. We have an opportunity to have our footsteps watched by the Holy One, while the way of those who chase after the wind will ultimately perish.
It's just timing.
Tomorrow, either Ryan or I will take on these three verses in relation to Jeremiah 12. Should be fun! Read ahead.
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
He
As this is a conversation between you and me, Reid, that others get to be let it on, I find it a little frustrating writing right now. It's like being at a coffee shop and everyone is listening to your conversation. There's no opportunity to be a little bit heretical:) That being said, I keep envisioning you being a tree--I was thinking a pine tree at first, but you don't smell that good and their fruit, while edible, is not exactly the picture language here. At least I don't think so. I'm going to think of a coconut tree. That way I can imagine myself on a beach. I'm guessing that's not what David was thinking either, but I'm going to go with it.
I keep reading through Psalm 1--I guess that's part of the meditation aspect. There's an ideal man, one who walks not in the counsel of the wicked nor stands in the way of sinners, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers. That man is blessed. He is THE man. If we read Psalm 1 from the aspect of Jesus as that man, I get it. He (read Jesus) is like a tree planted by streams of water and He yields his fruit in season. All that He does prospers. That makes sense. He is He but I know me. I am an expert on me.
The Psalmist makes it sound so simple. There are streams of water (John 4). There is a tree and fruit (John 15). There is prosperity. (Acts 2:37-47.) Delight in the Law. Watch your posture. Be wary of the wicked. All good to be sure, but most days are desperate days. These are the days when my head settles into the pillow at the end of the day and I begin to dream of the things that I didn't accomplish, or the thoughts and deeds that I did accomplish of which I am embarrassed. (Romans 7:15-25) Paul seems to have these verses in mind, too. "For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am!" I suppose there is a reason my middle name is Paul.
To be planted, immovable, and strong against the gale forced winds of derision coming from the wicked is truly a glorious concept. To bear fruit when the rest of the world is withering away; that is the ideal. And if the world would truly see that the only place they could find rest was in the shade of this tree which offers glorious fruit, not from the knowledge of Good and Evil, but of life--we could get back to the business of Eden. Prosperity, not material prosperity, but communal prosperity in which the lavish gifts of God are bestowed; that would be marvelous. To find a place to be rooted and grounded in love. To be in a congregation of the righteous (v. 5) is the ultimate goal/gift.
I would love to be in a forest of these trees waving forth in continual praise to the Savior.
I keep reading through Psalm 1--I guess that's part of the meditation aspect. There's an ideal man, one who walks not in the counsel of the wicked nor stands in the way of sinners, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers. That man is blessed. He is THE man. If we read Psalm 1 from the aspect of Jesus as that man, I get it. He (read Jesus) is like a tree planted by streams of water and He yields his fruit in season. All that He does prospers. That makes sense. He is He but I know me. I am an expert on me.
The Psalmist makes it sound so simple. There are streams of water (John 4). There is a tree and fruit (John 15). There is prosperity. (Acts 2:37-47.) Delight in the Law. Watch your posture. Be wary of the wicked. All good to be sure, but most days are desperate days. These are the days when my head settles into the pillow at the end of the day and I begin to dream of the things that I didn't accomplish, or the thoughts and deeds that I did accomplish of which I am embarrassed. (Romans 7:15-25) Paul seems to have these verses in mind, too. "For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am!" I suppose there is a reason my middle name is Paul.
To be planted, immovable, and strong against the gale forced winds of derision coming from the wicked is truly a glorious concept. To bear fruit when the rest of the world is withering away; that is the ideal. And if the world would truly see that the only place they could find rest was in the shade of this tree which offers glorious fruit, not from the knowledge of Good and Evil, but of life--we could get back to the business of Eden. Prosperity, not material prosperity, but communal prosperity in which the lavish gifts of God are bestowed; that would be marvelous. To find a place to be rooted and grounded in love. To be in a congregation of the righteous (v. 5) is the ultimate goal/gift.
I would love to be in a forest of these trees waving forth in continual praise to the Savior.
Monday, March 2, 2015
Delight
The Psalmist writes that the "man's" delight is in the Law of the Lord. What does David know that I don't? Reid writes that being inside the Law is like being inside a fence and that there is freedom in that. I like that language. It makes me comfortable. However, it seems like I tend to be more in the free range mode most of the time. I like the concept of the fence, but more often than not, in my human flesh, it is no fence. It is a cage. And maybe not just a cage. It is like the garbage pit in the Star Wars movie that closes in, drowning me in my sin and selfishness.
Luther speaks of the Law this way..."the Law reveals an angry God."
We can never satisfy the Law even with our best efforts and intentions. We can never stay within its confines despite our greatest vows that we would do that very thing. We try and fail and attempt and lose.
And yet, David writes of the Law in delightful terms. He finds comfort day and night in meditation, study, and prayer. What does he know?
He knows what all Christians know. A sure and delightful confidence that the Law is the exercise of faith, not of intention. The ancient Israelites imitated sacrifices with the opinion that they would by some means appease God. However, "no works ease the conscience." Luther's insistence on the Gospel pushed him to understand the Law in a different way. Repentance, (which David knew well--see Bathsheba), was the highest form of worship. To come to the only one who could and did offer forgiveness was the place where the Law was satisfied. Augustine says, "All God's commandments are fulfilled when whatever is not done is forgiven." And there comes the delight. There comes the beautiful fence that God has designed for us. There comes not the garbage compactor, but the outdoor cathedral where the Christian thrives. Though are lives may be mottled with sin by trying to escape at times, every time...EVERY TIME...the Christian is promised the forgiveness of sins because of the Christ. The empty tomb, which was a demonic fence for Jesus, was shattered by the power of Christ's love for us.
And so, now, we can hear Jesus say "I am the door of the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the door. If anyone enters by me, he will be saved and go in and out and find pasture." John 10:7-9.
The Law is good for what it is--an exercise of faith to show to others in order to invite them to believe. But if it is not seen by faith, the only thing that is seen is an angry God. By faith, we see the loving Christ who fulfilled it. That's something in which I can delight.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Law
But their delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law they meditate day and night. like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever that person does, they prosper.
Psalm 1:2,3
Ponder these strange laws from around the world: (these are internet sources and I haven't checked their actual validity, but if true...)
1. In France, it's illegal to sell E. T. dolls because the government does not allow dolls without human faces. I guess Shrek is out of luck too.
2. In Louisiana, biting someone with your natural teeth is considered “simple assault,” but biting someone with your dentures is “aggravated assault.” Another good reason for brushing one's teeth.
3. In Samoa, it’s a crime to forget your own wife’s birthday. I think that's a universal law.
4. In London, it is illegal to flag down a taxi if you have the plague. Duh.
I'm sure that all of these laws, whether true or otherwise, probably had an original impetus for enactment, but in the large scheme of things, it wouldn't do me much good to ponder them for the day or the night. It would be like spending an afternoon sitting outside on the veranda pondering why the speed limit is 100 kilometers per hour.
There must be something different about God's law as opposed to governmental laws that requires my ponderance. First we read that this is not a commandment, but meditation on he law is an opportunity for joy and fulfillment. To understand the law as set forth for the faithful is a chance to recognize how life can be lived better in God's world. Often, as Christians, we read that Christ is God's fulfillment of the law and thus, at best, ignore Old Testament faithfulness to community living and, at worst, openly speak against the laws because they are 'outdated' or 'irrelevant.'
A Wartburg College professor, Chip Bouzzard, once said in class, "The laws of the Old Testament are like freedom within a fence. Whoever stays within the fence is free." When we don't understand the law, we can't understand freedom.
Thus, our psalmist tells us that delight flows from the meditation, and the one who does so, is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever that person does, they prosper. (We'll do this verse a little more tomorrow.)
But meditation on God's law changes a person from thirsty to quenched, spiritually barren to productive, withering to dancing in the wind.
Which commandment is hardest for you to meditate on? What does freedom within the fence mean to you? Which laws give you question and seek to ask others about?
Dear God, remind me of your steadfastness and the unchanging nature of your Word. Even as perception changes, even as I change, the basic law you give is love. Free me from fear and doubt. Amen.
1. In France, it's illegal to sell E. T. dolls because the government does not allow dolls without human faces. I guess Shrek is out of luck too.
2. In Louisiana, biting someone with your natural teeth is considered “simple assault,” but biting someone with your dentures is “aggravated assault.” Another good reason for brushing one's teeth.
3. In Samoa, it’s a crime to forget your own wife’s birthday. I think that's a universal law.
4. In London, it is illegal to flag down a taxi if you have the plague. Duh.
I'm sure that all of these laws, whether true or otherwise, probably had an original impetus for enactment, but in the large scheme of things, it wouldn't do me much good to ponder them for the day or the night. It would be like spending an afternoon sitting outside on the veranda pondering why the speed limit is 100 kilometers per hour.
There must be something different about God's law as opposed to governmental laws that requires my ponderance. First we read that this is not a commandment, but meditation on he law is an opportunity for joy and fulfillment. To understand the law as set forth for the faithful is a chance to recognize how life can be lived better in God's world. Often, as Christians, we read that Christ is God's fulfillment of the law and thus, at best, ignore Old Testament faithfulness to community living and, at worst, openly speak against the laws because they are 'outdated' or 'irrelevant.'
A Wartburg College professor, Chip Bouzzard, once said in class, "The laws of the Old Testament are like freedom within a fence. Whoever stays within the fence is free." When we don't understand the law, we can't understand freedom.
Thus, our psalmist tells us that delight flows from the meditation, and the one who does so, is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever that person does, they prosper. (We'll do this verse a little more tomorrow.)
But meditation on God's law changes a person from thirsty to quenched, spiritually barren to productive, withering to dancing in the wind.
Which commandment is hardest for you to meditate on? What does freedom within the fence mean to you? Which laws give you question and seek to ask others about?
Dear God, remind me of your steadfastness and the unchanging nature of your Word. Even as perception changes, even as I change, the basic law you give is love. Free me from fear and doubt. Amen.
Saturday, February 28, 2015
Posturing - Februay 28
My brother, Ryan, and I are going to be doing some daily devotions together and we'd like to open up the conversation to anyone else that wants to read or input into the discussion.
We see it through the history of the Bible that the scriptures were never intended entirely for personal use; the scriptures were always read out loud in a group of people so that discussion (and digestion) of the Word could feed the multitudes. I'm sure there are many people, myself included, that find, at times, devotional life to be devoid of taste and smell. The simple act of reading the Bible feels like the inevitable act of feeding oneself at least a couple of times each day. Without taste, we sometimes sense the scriptures as if they were flatbread and cheese, not a three course meal.
That's how I'd like to treat these devotions: as a three course meal. Appetizer, main course and dessert - Scripture, thought (discussion) and prayer. If I write the devotion, Ryan may have more to say on it, or he may take the next day. If you want to respond in anyway, please do so.
The scriptures were meant to be read and heard. Faith comes through hearing.
We'll start with the Psalms which make the easiest start, I think. We find so many different emotions stirring in the writers of the Psalms and in those emotions we can find our daily life. God bless you on the reading. God bless us all on the writing!
Psalm 1:1 (NIV translation - we can, and will, use others. We aren't beholden to any in particular, but we might shy away from KJV most of the time)
We see it through the history of the Bible that the scriptures were never intended entirely for personal use; the scriptures were always read out loud in a group of people so that discussion (and digestion) of the Word could feed the multitudes. I'm sure there are many people, myself included, that find, at times, devotional life to be devoid of taste and smell. The simple act of reading the Bible feels like the inevitable act of feeding oneself at least a couple of times each day. Without taste, we sometimes sense the scriptures as if they were flatbread and cheese, not a three course meal.
That's how I'd like to treat these devotions: as a three course meal. Appetizer, main course and dessert - Scripture, thought (discussion) and prayer. If I write the devotion, Ryan may have more to say on it, or he may take the next day. If you want to respond in anyway, please do so.
The scriptures were meant to be read and heard. Faith comes through hearing.
We'll start with the Psalms which make the easiest start, I think. We find so many different emotions stirring in the writers of the Psalms and in those emotions we can find our daily life. God bless you on the reading. God bless us all on the writing!
Psalm 1:1 (NIV translation - we can, and will, use others. We aren't beholden to any in particular, but we might shy away from KJV most of the time)
Blessed is the one who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers.
(Take a few moments to read through the scripture, to taste it - begin to digest how the book begins... Memorize it, if you are able.)
Posture: It is drilled into us at an early age. Good posture changes everything from health, to pain relief to self-confidence. But posture takes a lot of work, thought and dedication.
Bad posture, on the other hand, is quite easy - slouching and hunching. For our spiritual bodies, it is easier to practice bad posture also. How often do I walk to the whisper of the wicked? How often do I crucify my conscience in order to stand the way everyone else does so that I can be 'normal'? How often do I not say anything, or sit pat while I, or others, tear down?
My blessing remains unclaimed by bad posture: physically, emotionally and spiritually.
Perhaps the place that I am slouch most is the last one. Sitting has always been easy for me and the visual of 'sitting in the seat of mockers' carries with it a chance to judge others, to make disparaging remarks about their appearance, their work or their life choices, reminds me that the seat of mockers is always a fake throne. There is nothing regal about the seat, only that the seat itself is gilded with self-righteousness and a false sense of self-worth. To be surrounded by mockers only leads down a false path of religious expectation.
But blessed is the one who has a posture which encourages a walk with those whose counsel lead us down paths for his name's sake. Who are these people in your life? What do those paths look like?
Blessed is the one stands in the way of sinners, who discourages the sin and does not give in to the temptation to divorce one's spiritual self from holy living. But also blessed is the one who does not stand (copy) the self-aggrandizing posture of those who sin because they believe that God will not punish anymore. How does this 'stand' play out in your life?
Blessed is the one who doesn't sit on the seat of mockers, who doesn't sarcastically pass judgment on any and all who pass by the seat. Have you ever felt mocked? What was that experience like? Have you ever sat in the seat yourself? Was it fulfilling?
I pray that we all have good posture today.
Prayer: God of light, guard my posture - keep me upright, walking tall and humble standing firm in faith and sitting with those who need you and me. Amen
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