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.
Friday, May 1, 2015
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.
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