Yesterday morning, I said something in the sermon that I didn't write. Luckily, I said it during first service so that I could keep it in for the next two.
I outline my sermons, but sometimes I write out specific sentences or phrases, especially what I call the "hook," or a kind of tag line that is intended for people to take home with them to remember the message.
This week's hook was, "Jesus is your friend so you can be a friend to others."
I know, kind of generic, not very catchy, pretty lame actually. But (thank you Lord) that's not what came out of my mouth.
What I said was, "No, I don't know you. But I do know Jesus. And because I know Jesus, I know you."
The set up went like this:
The Bible describes "regular old" friendship using the Greek word philia, which we usually translate "love." There's nothing at all inherently wrong with philia. Growing as a disciple of Jesus, however, requires us to move from philia to agape, divine love. Jesus said, 'There is no greater love (agape) than to lay down one's life for one's friends (philos).' (tangent: English is sometimes inadequate to convey the fuller meanings of ancient texts, so we need to take great care as we read them.)
To move from philia to agape, then, is to be willing to lay down your life for another. For whom would you lay down your life?
Here I paused and sort of scanned the room. I asked again, "For whom would you be willing to lay down your life?"
Many of us think of somebody in our family or a dear friend when confronted with that question, which is wonderful. But what Jesus asks of his followers is to lay down our lives for complete strangers, people we've never met before. After all, that's what he did. (Remember "Where is your mother? Where are your brothers, Jesus?")
The radical call of Christian friendship is to lay down our lives for complete strangers. That is an idea so counterintuitive in our fearful and distrusting world that we have a really, really hard time making any relevant sense of it.
And so I asked people to greet strangers throughout their week with as much joy and enthusiasm as they would greet a dear friend whom they had not seen in weeks. Smile at them and shake their hand and express your sincere happiness at seeing them! Act toward them as you would your very best friend.
Then, after the awkwardness passes, and they ask you, "Do I know you?" you just smile and respond, "No, I don't know you. But I know Jesus. And because I know Jesus, I know you!"
As soon as I said it, I thought it was kind of corny, and wondered where exactly it had come from. After all, that's where I had planned to say, "Remember that Jesus is your friend so you can be a friend to others." But there was also a sense of the power of that simple idea. I don't know if others in the room sensed it, but I certainly did. It was a moment in which all of us shared in a word from God, a simple truth that challenged all of us to a deeper commitment to Christ. And I do mean all of us; I felt the challenge myself.
As I've written before, the church does not have a problem with programming or facilities, lack of sufficiently catchy mission statements, or even worship style or preaching as much as it has a profoundly impoverished Christology. One of the ways that shows up is the alarming frequency with which "church people" only hang out with other "church people." Yes, friends love each other and thats just fine - but there is more to being a follower of Jesus than loving on the people you already know.
"Our church is friendly." Great. That's super. So is every church, when you ask them. Now, what else is it? There's a difference between being friendly and being a Christian friend.
So, "church people," inventory your week this week and keep track of how many interactions you have with other "church people." Then if you need to do some breaking free, do it. Put yourself in places out and about (coffee shop, grocery store, hair salon, restaurant) where you have opportunities to meet and talk with strangers who haven't yet become friends. And greet them as if they are already your very best friend you haven't seen in ages.
Then, after you freak them out a little bit, you could pay for their coffee or put your groceries down to help them carry out theirs or give them a 50% tip or bus your own table and ask them to sit down and rest while you do or ... do something that backs up your words. Something you would think of doing for your best friend. Something you would deeply desire to do for someone you love.
Then, if they ask, invite them to come to worship with you. And if that door doesn't open, try again next week! Whatever happens next, you will have made a friend for Christ's sake.
No, I don't really know you. But I do know Jesus. That makes me your friend.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
"I Will Be With Your Mouth" or: Speaking for God
“I will be with your mouth.” That’s all the further God wanted to go at this point, apparently (Exodus 4). Not “I will be with you,” as had been the case other times. Nope, this time all God would promise Moses was that the divine presence would be targeted at one specific body part.
God would not be with Moses’ left pinky toe, but would be with his mouth. Ha!
Of course, Moses’ complaint had to do specifically with his mouth, as he had said that he was “slow of speech and slow of tongue,” and as such was unsuited to follow God’s call to go to Pharaoh and demand release of the Hebrew people. (btw “Speech” and “mouth” are both the same word in Hebrew - peh - a word used 5 times in Exodus 4.)
How many times have we said something along those lines? As in, “I just don’t know what to say.” Or maybe, “I would go and visit her, but I wouldn’t know what to say.” Or in another context, “I’m just not comfortable talking with people about ‘religion.’” Or said in a specific way, “I feel like if I invite someone to church, they’ll think I’m being pushy.” Or something like that.
Listen to God - “I will be with your mouth.”
Or maybe, “Just let me do the talking.”
Now, we may be tempted to misunderstand this, and think that if God is doing the talking, we don’t have to do anything. We might take our protest a step further, like Moses did. We might say, “Well if you are going to do the talking, Lord, I’ll just stay home and read a book.”
Moses’ protest continued, “Please send someone else.”
It’s not my job.
That’s why we hire church staff, isn’t it?
That’s not really my “calling.”
I don’t think that’s one of my “spiritual gifts.”
But when we do so, we may find that God’s next move makes us even more uncomfortable. Yes, God appoints Aaron to go along with Moses, but do you know how God defines that relationship? God tells Moses, “He shall serve as a mouth for you, and you shall serve as God for him.” It almost seems like God is saying to Moses, “All right, you won’t go yourself? Well, you trying being ‘God’ for someone else for a while and see how you like it.”
Moses maybe should have gone with the whole “I will be with your mouth” thing while he had the chance!
When Moses tried to shirk his obligation in realizing God’s mission, God did not remove Moses’ responsibility, but rather increased it. God told Moses, “Okay, I will still be with your mouth, and I’ll be with Aaron’s mouth, too. But now I’ll be holding you directly responsible for what words he says, as well as your own.”
So maybe we should stick with the whole “I will be with your mouth” thing, also. We talk a lot about having “filters” on our speech, a kind of governor on our words that prevents harmful, hurtful, hateful, and otherwise offensive things from coming out. When someone is under stress or not thinking clearly or somehow out of sorts, often those filters do not function well or are removed altogether. They may end up saying things that they do not intend, and never would have said without the filters in place. And filters don’t work just for the choice of words, they also work for the tone of voice, body language, facial expressions, and all of those communication tools available to us.
One way to think of God is as the divine filter for our words. We need to listen very closely to what we say (and are about to say) and run it by God a few times to see if it makes it through God’s filter. And that is as true (or maybe more so) for online communication as face-to-face conversation.
God’s very precise and kind of peculiar promise is, “I will be with your mouth.” You still have to go, but I will be with your mouth. You still have to start the conversation, but I’ll let you know what to say. So go, say “hello,” and see what happens after that.
God has something really important to say, and we are the ones God wants to be saying it.
Are you saying what God wants you to be saying? And are you saying it in a way that God wants you to say it? And if you’re not sure, maybe you should just be quiet and listen for a while? I'm sure God will let you know.
God would not be with Moses’ left pinky toe, but would be with his mouth. Ha!
Of course, Moses’ complaint had to do specifically with his mouth, as he had said that he was “slow of speech and slow of tongue,” and as such was unsuited to follow God’s call to go to Pharaoh and demand release of the Hebrew people. (btw “Speech” and “mouth” are both the same word in Hebrew - peh - a word used 5 times in Exodus 4.)
How many times have we said something along those lines? As in, “I just don’t know what to say.” Or maybe, “I would go and visit her, but I wouldn’t know what to say.” Or in another context, “I’m just not comfortable talking with people about ‘religion.’” Or said in a specific way, “I feel like if I invite someone to church, they’ll think I’m being pushy.” Or something like that.
Listen to God - “I will be with your mouth.”
Or maybe, “Just let me do the talking.”
Now, we may be tempted to misunderstand this, and think that if God is doing the talking, we don’t have to do anything. We might take our protest a step further, like Moses did. We might say, “Well if you are going to do the talking, Lord, I’ll just stay home and read a book.”
Moses’ protest continued, “Please send someone else.”
It’s not my job.
That’s why we hire church staff, isn’t it?
That’s not really my “calling.”
I don’t think that’s one of my “spiritual gifts.”
But when we do so, we may find that God’s next move makes us even more uncomfortable. Yes, God appoints Aaron to go along with Moses, but do you know how God defines that relationship? God tells Moses, “He shall serve as a mouth for you, and you shall serve as God for him.” It almost seems like God is saying to Moses, “All right, you won’t go yourself? Well, you trying being ‘God’ for someone else for a while and see how you like it.”
Moses maybe should have gone with the whole “I will be with your mouth” thing while he had the chance!
When Moses tried to shirk his obligation in realizing God’s mission, God did not remove Moses’ responsibility, but rather increased it. God told Moses, “Okay, I will still be with your mouth, and I’ll be with Aaron’s mouth, too. But now I’ll be holding you directly responsible for what words he says, as well as your own.”
So maybe we should stick with the whole “I will be with your mouth” thing, also. We talk a lot about having “filters” on our speech, a kind of governor on our words that prevents harmful, hurtful, hateful, and otherwise offensive things from coming out. When someone is under stress or not thinking clearly or somehow out of sorts, often those filters do not function well or are removed altogether. They may end up saying things that they do not intend, and never would have said without the filters in place. And filters don’t work just for the choice of words, they also work for the tone of voice, body language, facial expressions, and all of those communication tools available to us.
One way to think of God is as the divine filter for our words. We need to listen very closely to what we say (and are about to say) and run it by God a few times to see if it makes it through God’s filter. And that is as true (or maybe more so) for online communication as face-to-face conversation.
God’s very precise and kind of peculiar promise is, “I will be with your mouth.” You still have to go, but I will be with your mouth. You still have to start the conversation, but I’ll let you know what to say. So go, say “hello,” and see what happens after that.
God has something really important to say, and we are the ones God wants to be saying it.
Are you saying what God wants you to be saying? And are you saying it in a way that God wants you to say it? And if you’re not sure, maybe you should just be quiet and listen for a while? I'm sure God will let you know.
Monday, June 27, 2011
What Is This Feeling? - Reflecting on "Chidren of Eden"
What is this feeling?
An exhausted exhilaration has settled within and around me today. I guess that’s the way to describe it. It feels like significance. As though something of consequence has happened (is happening?), and I was (am?) a part of it.
From Tuesday, April 5, 2011 until now has been one of the most hectic, amazing, frustrating, wonderful, tiring, energizing … the list could go on … periods of time in my life. I peg it to April 5 because that was when I got up on stage at the Lander’s Theatre and auditioned for “Children of Eden” with a song that nobody knew but me and probably wasn’t the best choice and left me feeling like I should have chosen a different one. But I got called back, then learned that I was cast as “Noah” in the show, and began rehearsing.
What was it about this particular show, this particular production of this particular show, that was so miraculous? Script, music, message, director’s vision, cast talent, amazing set, gorgeous costumes, brilliant lighting, spectacular projections … ? These things added together? Just the magic of theater?
Or was there something else happening?
It was something that the cast sensed early on, forming deep and intense connections among one-time strangers. It was something that the audience sensed every single show, many times standing and cheering even before the final blackout. It was something that “theater people” who had been a part of live theater for umpteen years even had trouble describing. When you hear a theater veteran say, "I've never been a part of anything like this," it points to something beyond the ordinary.
The show was religious. Whatever your faith, this show elicited reflection on God. That was true for the audiences as well as the crew and cast. And when you are with a show that compels theological reflection for three months, there’s a lot of opportunity for divine activity. It pulls out of you a response that for lack of a better word we call “emotional.” But this experience obviously affected more than just emotions.
When you are kneeling on stage among a phenomenal cast who have become dear friends, heads bowed during the final song, and you hear not just sniffs and sighs but actual sobs as we all weep together before joining together for one final refrain … “Children of Eden, seek for your garden, you and your children to come, someday to come home…”
Added into the mix for me personally were a whole slew of moments of significance: our kids finishing their school year, welcoming a newborn baby into our home for foster care, being elected a delegate to the United Methodist Jurisdictional Conference from Missouri, participating in this year’s amazing Vacation Bible School, helping two gifted young men begin their process toward ordination, plus the everyday significance of worship, pastoral care, staff transitions, and all that other ordinary stuff that makes pastoral ministry so extraordinary.
Which goes to say, my experience with “Children of Eden” would have been flat-out impossible for me without my incredibly amazing and infinitely supportive wife Erin, the absolute love of my life and my best of best friends in the whole world. Not to mention our two exceptional children who just so happen to love the fact that their Daddy got to be on stage for this show. And the unbelievably gifted and talented staff of Campbell UMC who covered for me during weeks of rehearsals and encouraged me during weekends of performances. Plus the wonderful people of Campbell who bought tickets by the dozens and dozens and cheered me on and were so gracious in understanding why their sort of off-the-wall pastor wanted to do this weird, wonderful thing in the first place. Thank you, every single one of you!
+++
I stood, hand stretched upward, head up, energy given, practically hovering in the air, surrounded by 50 of my best friends doing exactly the same thing, in the forever instant of time after our final cut off and before the blackout.
I had never before so desperately wanted a moment to last forever; I had never before been so grateful for a moment to pass.
“The time has come for us to begin our journeys.
We have no map - only the ways we most wish for ourselves.”
“Funny now how Eden doesn’t seem so far.”
“I cannot bear to feel this pain … but I would not go back again.”
“If no outer force will show you your course, you’ll have to look inside.”
“The hardest part of love … the rarest part of love … and the truest part of love …
… is the letting go.”
What is this feeling?
I think it might be love.
An exhausted exhilaration has settled within and around me today. I guess that’s the way to describe it. It feels like significance. As though something of consequence has happened (is happening?), and I was (am?) a part of it.
From Tuesday, April 5, 2011 until now has been one of the most hectic, amazing, frustrating, wonderful, tiring, energizing … the list could go on … periods of time in my life. I peg it to April 5 because that was when I got up on stage at the Lander’s Theatre and auditioned for “Children of Eden” with a song that nobody knew but me and probably wasn’t the best choice and left me feeling like I should have chosen a different one. But I got called back, then learned that I was cast as “Noah” in the show, and began rehearsing.
What was it about this particular show, this particular production of this particular show, that was so miraculous? Script, music, message, director’s vision, cast talent, amazing set, gorgeous costumes, brilliant lighting, spectacular projections … ? These things added together? Just the magic of theater?
Or was there something else happening?
It was something that the cast sensed early on, forming deep and intense connections among one-time strangers. It was something that the audience sensed every single show, many times standing and cheering even before the final blackout. It was something that “theater people” who had been a part of live theater for umpteen years even had trouble describing. When you hear a theater veteran say, "I've never been a part of anything like this," it points to something beyond the ordinary.
The show was religious. Whatever your faith, this show elicited reflection on God. That was true for the audiences as well as the crew and cast. And when you are with a show that compels theological reflection for three months, there’s a lot of opportunity for divine activity. It pulls out of you a response that for lack of a better word we call “emotional.” But this experience obviously affected more than just emotions.
When you are kneeling on stage among a phenomenal cast who have become dear friends, heads bowed during the final song, and you hear not just sniffs and sighs but actual sobs as we all weep together before joining together for one final refrain … “Children of Eden, seek for your garden, you and your children to come, someday to come home…”
Added into the mix for me personally were a whole slew of moments of significance: our kids finishing their school year, welcoming a newborn baby into our home for foster care, being elected a delegate to the United Methodist Jurisdictional Conference from Missouri, participating in this year’s amazing Vacation Bible School, helping two gifted young men begin their process toward ordination, plus the everyday significance of worship, pastoral care, staff transitions, and all that other ordinary stuff that makes pastoral ministry so extraordinary.
Which goes to say, my experience with “Children of Eden” would have been flat-out impossible for me without my incredibly amazing and infinitely supportive wife Erin, the absolute love of my life and my best of best friends in the whole world. Not to mention our two exceptional children who just so happen to love the fact that their Daddy got to be on stage for this show. And the unbelievably gifted and talented staff of Campbell UMC who covered for me during weeks of rehearsals and encouraged me during weekends of performances. Plus the wonderful people of Campbell who bought tickets by the dozens and dozens and cheered me on and were so gracious in understanding why their sort of off-the-wall pastor wanted to do this weird, wonderful thing in the first place. Thank you, every single one of you!
+++
I stood, hand stretched upward, head up, energy given, practically hovering in the air, surrounded by 50 of my best friends doing exactly the same thing, in the forever instant of time after our final cut off and before the blackout.
I had never before so desperately wanted a moment to last forever; I had never before been so grateful for a moment to pass.
“The time has come for us to begin our journeys.
We have no map - only the ways we most wish for ourselves.”
“Funny now how Eden doesn’t seem so far.”
“I cannot bear to feel this pain … but I would not go back again.”
“If no outer force will show you your course, you’ll have to look inside.”
“The hardest part of love … the rarest part of love … and the truest part of love …
… is the letting go.”
What is this feeling?
I think it might be love.
Wednesday, June 08, 2011
Prophecies, Visions, and Dreams - Oh My!
Part of the Pentecost story in Acts is the prophecies, visions, and dreams that followers of Jesus are given when the Holy Spirit comes to them. It is actually Peter, quoting the prophet Joel, who makes the allusion.
The followers of Jesus received the Holy Spirit, and the Spirit empowered them to dream.
We all dream. We all envision a future for ourselves, our families, our congregations, our communities. We know what it means to desire a different future, a better future.
But how do I know the difference between a dream that comes from the Holy Spirit and a dream that comes from within myself? How can I tell if it is God or my ego creating this picture of the future in my mind?
I mean, I could have a dream of myself driving a brand new, silver, Porsche 911 Carrera 4 GTS Cabriolet with the top down and U2 blasting out of the speakers, but I’m pretty sure it didn’t come from God. But obviously not all of my dreams would be so easy to distinguish.
I have a different vision for the church than some do. And I actually think that having multiple congregational visions is healthy for the church as a whole. When it comes to congregational vitality, “one-size-fits-all” is not a good rule to follow. And I do not begrudge one person their dream for the future of the church, as long as it is not harmful.
What are our dreams for the church?
- Bigger congregations
- Smaller congregations but more of them
- More small groups within larger congregations
- Networks of simple churches meeting in living rooms
- New congregations emerging from within older congregations
- Younger congregations
- Multi-generational congregations
- Ginormous congregations with multiple locations
- Congregations without locations that gather as flash mobs in various public places
- The complete dissolution of the notion of a “congregation” and creation of a new connectional concept of church, networked somewhere in the cloud
There’s nothing wrong with multiple dreams within the church. I’d say the only thing wrong is no dream for the future, no vision, no motion forward.
Last night at rehearsal, an actor noted that in one particular scene different people in the chorus were making different choices about our respective reactions to the action on stage. The actor asked if the director wanted one uniform response from the chorus. She replied that no, the multiple reactions actually created interest and energy. The only thing that would be “wrong” is if there was no reaction at all.
It’s like that with vision for the church, too. The vision in one congregation is different from the vision in another congregation, and that’s okay as long as it first of all does no harm. What would not be okay is if a congregation claims no vision at all. The Pentecost story is all about the Holy Spirit sending prophecies, visions, and dreams to followers of Jesus, and I believe that the Holy Spirit continues to do so today.
The followers of Jesus received the Holy Spirit, and the Spirit empowered them to dream.
We all dream. We all envision a future for ourselves, our families, our congregations, our communities. We know what it means to desire a different future, a better future.
But how do I know the difference between a dream that comes from the Holy Spirit and a dream that comes from within myself? How can I tell if it is God or my ego creating this picture of the future in my mind?
I mean, I could have a dream of myself driving a brand new, silver, Porsche 911 Carrera 4 GTS Cabriolet with the top down and U2 blasting out of the speakers, but I’m pretty sure it didn’t come from God. But obviously not all of my dreams would be so easy to distinguish.
I have a different vision for the church than some do. And I actually think that having multiple congregational visions is healthy for the church as a whole. When it comes to congregational vitality, “one-size-fits-all” is not a good rule to follow. And I do not begrudge one person their dream for the future of the church, as long as it is not harmful.
What are our dreams for the church?
- Bigger congregations
- Smaller congregations but more of them
- More small groups within larger congregations
- Networks of simple churches meeting in living rooms
- New congregations emerging from within older congregations
- Younger congregations
- Multi-generational congregations
- Ginormous congregations with multiple locations
- Congregations without locations that gather as flash mobs in various public places
- The complete dissolution of the notion of a “congregation” and creation of a new connectional concept of church, networked somewhere in the cloud
There’s nothing wrong with multiple dreams within the church. I’d say the only thing wrong is no dream for the future, no vision, no motion forward.
Last night at rehearsal, an actor noted that in one particular scene different people in the chorus were making different choices about our respective reactions to the action on stage. The actor asked if the director wanted one uniform response from the chorus. She replied that no, the multiple reactions actually created interest and energy. The only thing that would be “wrong” is if there was no reaction at all.
It’s like that with vision for the church, too. The vision in one congregation is different from the vision in another congregation, and that’s okay as long as it first of all does no harm. What would not be okay is if a congregation claims no vision at all. The Pentecost story is all about the Holy Spirit sending prophecies, visions, and dreams to followers of Jesus, and I believe that the Holy Spirit continues to do so today.
Wednesday, June 01, 2011
To Love With Our Full Capacity
Yesterday at the table my wife Erin said, “I wonder what would happen if there was a tornado in Topeka and Westboro Baptist Church was destroyed.” In all of the hullaballoo about their phantom protest in Joplin, I must say that is one thought I never heard uttered.
How would people react if that happened? The better angels of our nature might like us to think, “Of course, we would send rescue teams and clean-up crews and mission teams to rebuild the community, including their church building.” But I wonder.
I wonder if we might feel a certain smug satisfaction; “They had it coming.”
I wonder if there would be people who said God was punishing them for their behavior.
I wonder if, even if we didn’t say it out loud, we might think it to ourselves.
And I wonder how Christlike that would be.
This weekend United Methodists from around Missouri will gather for our Annual Conference in Springfield. It is a time to renew the connection and affirm our mission as the Body of Christ in the world. This year, a lot of our attention and energy will be invested in communities like Joplin and Sedalia that have been impacted by harsh spring weather, and the response of the church in those communities.
We also spend time this year electing representatives to go to two other conferences, sort of the next levels up from our state - Jurisdictional and General. It breaks my heart that, during voting years like this, often our differences are highlighted more than our unity. And most of the time, those differences emerge over social issues, left and right, conservative and progressive, yada yada yada. It is rarely pretty.
What a strange confluence these two weeks! The Joplin devastation shakes everything up. The overwhelming response is a powerful symbol of unity. The hints of the Westboro protest create division. Annual Conference is the unity of the connection embodied. The election of delegates, rather than celebrating Christian unity, often highlights our differences, differences that the Westboro group has falsely magnified to the point of ridiculousness.
It’s maddeningly wonderful, isn’t it? To be the church in 2011? It will drive you crazy at the very same time it is filling you with deep and abiding joy. Sure, there are times I wish following Jesus was easier, but the truth is it’s not. It’s hard to follow Jesus. It is so hard to love people with the same love Jesus has for us, love deep enough to die for us!
Following Jesus means that we are going to love people that we may not be inclined to agree with. And being the church means that we love with our full capacity; as the Body of Christ we really have no other option. I was thinking the other day about just how insignificant the theological, political, and social differences are when people are working together to clear rubble, distribute supplies, and rebuild homes.
We are many; we are one. We are the church. My prayer for Annual Conference this year is that we will remember to love with our full capacity as we all help one another in becoming disciples of Jesus Christ.
How would people react if that happened? The better angels of our nature might like us to think, “Of course, we would send rescue teams and clean-up crews and mission teams to rebuild the community, including their church building.” But I wonder.
I wonder if we might feel a certain smug satisfaction; “They had it coming.”
I wonder if there would be people who said God was punishing them for their behavior.
I wonder if, even if we didn’t say it out loud, we might think it to ourselves.
And I wonder how Christlike that would be.
This weekend United Methodists from around Missouri will gather for our Annual Conference in Springfield. It is a time to renew the connection and affirm our mission as the Body of Christ in the world. This year, a lot of our attention and energy will be invested in communities like Joplin and Sedalia that have been impacted by harsh spring weather, and the response of the church in those communities.
We also spend time this year electing representatives to go to two other conferences, sort of the next levels up from our state - Jurisdictional and General. It breaks my heart that, during voting years like this, often our differences are highlighted more than our unity. And most of the time, those differences emerge over social issues, left and right, conservative and progressive, yada yada yada. It is rarely pretty.
What a strange confluence these two weeks! The Joplin devastation shakes everything up. The overwhelming response is a powerful symbol of unity. The hints of the Westboro protest create division. Annual Conference is the unity of the connection embodied. The election of delegates, rather than celebrating Christian unity, often highlights our differences, differences that the Westboro group has falsely magnified to the point of ridiculousness.
It’s maddeningly wonderful, isn’t it? To be the church in 2011? It will drive you crazy at the very same time it is filling you with deep and abiding joy. Sure, there are times I wish following Jesus was easier, but the truth is it’s not. It’s hard to follow Jesus. It is so hard to love people with the same love Jesus has for us, love deep enough to die for us!
Following Jesus means that we are going to love people that we may not be inclined to agree with. And being the church means that we love with our full capacity; as the Body of Christ we really have no other option. I was thinking the other day about just how insignificant the theological, political, and social differences are when people are working together to clear rubble, distribute supplies, and rebuild homes.
We are many; we are one. We are the church. My prayer for Annual Conference this year is that we will remember to love with our full capacity as we all help one another in becoming disciples of Jesus Christ.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
A Great Weekend to Go to Church
This weekend is our national celebration of Memorial Day. It is a weekend that people traditionally … (how shall I say this?) … don’t necessarily make worship a part of their itinerary. Outdoor activities, get-togethers with family, and travel frequently diminish participation in Sunday gatherings. And that’s fine; I’m certainly not bashing the occasional three-day weekend spent connecting with our families!
But I’m just wondering about this Sunday, coming at the end of a week in which our neighbors in Joplin, across the state, and throughout the region have been devastated by especially harsh weather. 125 have been confirmed dead in Joplin, and 232 are unaccounted for. The number of injuries is staggering. The destruction of property is mind-boggling. We are shaken, stricken, and scared.
What better time to gather together to remember that God is good, all the time? How could there be a more opportune moment to affirm that the Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love? When else would it be more appropriate for us to reaffirm Christ’s call to help those who need help and truly love our neighbors as ourselves?
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if sanctuaries across the nation were filled to overflowing this Sunday morning? If people travelling made a point to find the nearest church so that they could go to worship? If people with guests would bring their guests to worship with them instead of using them as an excuse to be somewhere else?
Wouldn’t it be great if followers of Jesus gathered in record numbers this weekend to proclaim one gigantic NO! - the devastation of this world is not the end of the story! There is more!
Wouldn’t it be amazing if the Church assembled for worship this weekend with no regard at all for denomination or congregation, but simply and powerfully as the body of Christ, affirmed an enormous YES! - There is hope! There is resurrection! There is life!
This started out as an email to the people of Campbell UMC to encourage them to be at worship this weekend, but it has become a bit more than that, I suppose. My hope is that all who are reading this, wherever you are, will go to church this Sunday and worship God with as much passion, energy, and devotion as ever. No, with even more!
God is good! ALL the time!
But I’m just wondering about this Sunday, coming at the end of a week in which our neighbors in Joplin, across the state, and throughout the region have been devastated by especially harsh weather. 125 have been confirmed dead in Joplin, and 232 are unaccounted for. The number of injuries is staggering. The destruction of property is mind-boggling. We are shaken, stricken, and scared.
What better time to gather together to remember that God is good, all the time? How could there be a more opportune moment to affirm that the Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love? When else would it be more appropriate for us to reaffirm Christ’s call to help those who need help and truly love our neighbors as ourselves?
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if sanctuaries across the nation were filled to overflowing this Sunday morning? If people travelling made a point to find the nearest church so that they could go to worship? If people with guests would bring their guests to worship with them instead of using them as an excuse to be somewhere else?
Wouldn’t it be great if followers of Jesus gathered in record numbers this weekend to proclaim one gigantic NO! - the devastation of this world is not the end of the story! There is more!
Wouldn’t it be amazing if the Church assembled for worship this weekend with no regard at all for denomination or congregation, but simply and powerfully as the body of Christ, affirmed an enormous YES! - There is hope! There is resurrection! There is life!
This started out as an email to the people of Campbell UMC to encourage them to be at worship this weekend, but it has become a bit more than that, I suppose. My hope is that all who are reading this, wherever you are, will go to church this Sunday and worship God with as much passion, energy, and devotion as ever. No, with even more!
God is good! ALL the time!
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Thoughts on Devastation
Devastation.
I have heard this word more often in the last two days than I usually would in two months. In every case it is being used to describe the town of Joplin, Missouri, just over an hour west of here. Lots of big numbers: EF5 - 200 mph - 6 mile path - 750 injured - 8,000 buildings - 123 lives.
The pictures posted online reveal a chaotic landscape of jagged rubble. Cars tossed haphazardly, trees stripped of branches, skeletal silhouettes that used to be buildings, mounds of trash that were once people’s homes. Utter devastation.
The outpouring of help has been so enormous that people are now being told to actually stay away from Joplin at this time. Too many of us well-intentioned but untrained volunteers would get in the way of the people who really need to be there right now.
But the first impulse for many is to help, somehow, some way. There are people who need … who are hurting … people who have been devastated. We want to help them, now! We want to make the hurt go away, meet the need, un-devastate the devastation.
It seems there is a powerful human need to fill voids. We are inclined toward creation, and so when we see devastation our inherent reaction is to create, construct, and build. That’s what’s happening now, on a widespread scale. We are feeling a collective urge to un-devastate the lives of our neighbors in Joplin, to create again what has been un-made, to fill the void the tornado left behind.
It is in this impulse that I believe we witness most fully the power of God at work. The image of God becomes incarnate in this creative urge, in people working together to build community, extending ourselves into the lives of one another and truly loving our neighbors as ourselves.
Devastation.
A week before the tornado, a baby was born in Springfield. He spent the first week of his life in the NICU because his mom has diabetes, he was born a month early, and his blood sugar was all out of whack. Also during that week it was decided (by people he doesn’t know in an office somewhere else) that he was not going to be able to come home with his mom and dad. And since his half-sister happens to be our foster daughter already, we said that he could come home with us for a while. So he can be with his sister, you know.
Because there is this powerful impulse in us that tends to want to fill voids, to make the hurt go away, to un-devastate devastation. And it doesn’t matter if it is a town of 50,000 or one newborn baby in the NICU, at the heart of it devastation always looks like a chaotic landscape of jagged rubble.
We talked about it together. We always do. Our son said, “How would you feel if you were just born and you weren’t with anyone in your family?” And with that, there was no more conversation. So he can be with his sister. And with a family who will take good care of him, feed him well, help him grow, and extend our lives into his so that we might truly love him with all that it means to love another person.
And maybe that will fill at least a part of the void into which he was born, make a little bit of the hurt go away, and at least begin to un-devastate the devastation.
I have heard this word more often in the last two days than I usually would in two months. In every case it is being used to describe the town of Joplin, Missouri, just over an hour west of here. Lots of big numbers: EF5 - 200 mph - 6 mile path - 750 injured - 8,000 buildings - 123 lives.
The pictures posted online reveal a chaotic landscape of jagged rubble. Cars tossed haphazardly, trees stripped of branches, skeletal silhouettes that used to be buildings, mounds of trash that were once people’s homes. Utter devastation.
The outpouring of help has been so enormous that people are now being told to actually stay away from Joplin at this time. Too many of us well-intentioned but untrained volunteers would get in the way of the people who really need to be there right now.
But the first impulse for many is to help, somehow, some way. There are people who need … who are hurting … people who have been devastated. We want to help them, now! We want to make the hurt go away, meet the need, un-devastate the devastation.
It seems there is a powerful human need to fill voids. We are inclined toward creation, and so when we see devastation our inherent reaction is to create, construct, and build. That’s what’s happening now, on a widespread scale. We are feeling a collective urge to un-devastate the lives of our neighbors in Joplin, to create again what has been un-made, to fill the void the tornado left behind.
It is in this impulse that I believe we witness most fully the power of God at work. The image of God becomes incarnate in this creative urge, in people working together to build community, extending ourselves into the lives of one another and truly loving our neighbors as ourselves.
Devastation.
A week before the tornado, a baby was born in Springfield. He spent the first week of his life in the NICU because his mom has diabetes, he was born a month early, and his blood sugar was all out of whack. Also during that week it was decided (by people he doesn’t know in an office somewhere else) that he was not going to be able to come home with his mom and dad. And since his half-sister happens to be our foster daughter already, we said that he could come home with us for a while. So he can be with his sister, you know.
Because there is this powerful impulse in us that tends to want to fill voids, to make the hurt go away, to un-devastate devastation. And it doesn’t matter if it is a town of 50,000 or one newborn baby in the NICU, at the heart of it devastation always looks like a chaotic landscape of jagged rubble.
We talked about it together. We always do. Our son said, “How would you feel if you were just born and you weren’t with anyone in your family?” And with that, there was no more conversation. So he can be with his sister. And with a family who will take good care of him, feed him well, help him grow, and extend our lives into his so that we might truly love him with all that it means to love another person.
And maybe that will fill at least a part of the void into which he was born, make a little bit of the hurt go away, and at least begin to un-devastate the devastation.
Monday, May 09, 2011
Well Maybe It IS My Parents' Offering Plate, After All
There is a lot to like about “Not Your Parents’ Offering Plate,” a book about money and the church by J. Clif Christopher.
People give to support a mission that is making a difference in people’s lives and that they can therefore truly believe in - yes.
It is not a great idea to appeal to “making our budget” as a way to get people to give - yes.
There are multiple ways to give, including regular income, capital, and estate giving - yes.
It doesn’t make sense to describe a poor financial situation and then expect people to give to a “failing” project - yes.
Sending regular “thank yous” to people who have given significantly to the church is always a good idea - yes.
All good stuff, all very helpful.
But when he tries to ground his ideas theologically and scripturally, I do not find it to be quite so helpful. In fact, I’m not quite sure how his ideas are connected to the theology he offers. The theological concerns I have with this book are the same two theological concerns I have with much of the contemporary church - Christology and ecclesiology.
Christology
The Church today adheres to a dramatically impoverished Christology. I believe this to be the central issue confronting church leaders today. We have no idea who Jesus really is, but we like to pretend that we do, and in the process often use Jesus as a means to achieve our desired end.
As it seems this book does when we are told that Jesus “had a great concern for the wealthy” in that he “knew how easily money could draw them away from their heavenly Father.” The rhetorical question is then posed: “With whom was Jesus more concerned about being able to enter the Kingdom of Heaven … the rich or the poor?” The argument is then made that we as pastors are supposed to get people to give money to the church as a way to “save their souls.”
Ah! Nothing like a little works righteousness to get your heart pumping, is there? I find it very difficult to agree with the notion that Jesus has a preferential option for the wealthy.
We must not minimize Jesus into a convenient means to get what we want. In this case, what the author wants is for people to give money to the church, and so Jesus becomes a fundraiser for heaven, skillfully convincing them to relinquish their resources in order to win God’s favor. Or in another case, what we might want is a congregation with a bigger worship attendance, so Jesus becomes the recruitment officer for God’s army, whose only purpose is to get people enrolled in the organization.
Ecclesiology
And speaking of the organization, since when did the church become an entity inhabiting a separate location than the people? Isn’t it true anymore that “I am the church; you are the church; we are the church together”? Or was that just a cute little Sunday School song that we are using to brainwash our kiddies into thinking they are actually important? (he said sarcastically.)
Throughout the book, the people are considered to be separate from the church. This is just plain bad ecclesiology. The entire premise is that “people” give to “the church,” and that just doesn’t make any sense to me. A representative sentence: “We must learn to answer the question our donors are asking us, ‘Why should I give to you?’”
Offering isn’t giving “to the church,” it is Christian discipleship. It is an act of worship. It is the church giving of itself in order to accomplish God’s mission. It is a part of our response to the grace of God given to us through the faithfulness of Jesus Christ and enlivened by the presence of the Holy Spirit in our midst. Or to put it another way, “Growing in the grace of giving is a response Christian disciples offer to God’s call to make a difference in the world.” (Bishop Robert Schnase)
To me, this is a more faithful approach to finances, and I know from experience that it is an approach that works. It is the approach we have taken in two different congregations in which I have served, and it has been effective at both of them. Both congregations were actively engaged in local and global ministries, and continue to make significant and transformative impact in the lives of people. (That’s not nearly as much experience as Clif Christopher has, but it ought to count for something.)
My ecclesiology does not make it possible for me to think in terms of the church as an organization, but more as an organism. (I can’t remember where I originally heard this distinction, but it’s not mine originally, that’s for sure.) I know that there are structures everywhere; even clouds have structure (thank you Dr. Robert Martin). And yet we shouldn’t think that the people are separate from that structure. Far from it - the people comprise the structure itself.
And so, what do I do with a book that has some excellent practical suggestions but derives them from a theology that I personally cannot agree with? Plus, I’m not so sure that Christopher makes the connection between the theology he holds and the practical suggestions he derives. It almost feels like he came up with some practical ideas and then tried to justify them scripturally and theologically.
It’s a tough one for me, too, because coming from my own theological perspective, I have arrived at many of the very same practical suggestions that this book does. Now how did that happen?
Maybe it says something about trying to universalize ideas that really are very contextual. My approach has worked in the places I have served, but probably wouldn’t elsewhere.
One of the things I have heard over and over in the places I have served is how tired people are of the church “asking for money” all the time. To me, this book feels like just another way to ask people for money, rather than infusing the church with an attitude of extravagant generosity.
If anyone is still reading by this point, I welcome your thoughts…
People give to support a mission that is making a difference in people’s lives and that they can therefore truly believe in - yes.
It is not a great idea to appeal to “making our budget” as a way to get people to give - yes.
There are multiple ways to give, including regular income, capital, and estate giving - yes.
It doesn’t make sense to describe a poor financial situation and then expect people to give to a “failing” project - yes.
Sending regular “thank yous” to people who have given significantly to the church is always a good idea - yes.
All good stuff, all very helpful.
But when he tries to ground his ideas theologically and scripturally, I do not find it to be quite so helpful. In fact, I’m not quite sure how his ideas are connected to the theology he offers. The theological concerns I have with this book are the same two theological concerns I have with much of the contemporary church - Christology and ecclesiology.
Christology
The Church today adheres to a dramatically impoverished Christology. I believe this to be the central issue confronting church leaders today. We have no idea who Jesus really is, but we like to pretend that we do, and in the process often use Jesus as a means to achieve our desired end.
As it seems this book does when we are told that Jesus “had a great concern for the wealthy” in that he “knew how easily money could draw them away from their heavenly Father.” The rhetorical question is then posed: “With whom was Jesus more concerned about being able to enter the Kingdom of Heaven … the rich or the poor?” The argument is then made that we as pastors are supposed to get people to give money to the church as a way to “save their souls.”
Ah! Nothing like a little works righteousness to get your heart pumping, is there? I find it very difficult to agree with the notion that Jesus has a preferential option for the wealthy.
We must not minimize Jesus into a convenient means to get what we want. In this case, what the author wants is for people to give money to the church, and so Jesus becomes a fundraiser for heaven, skillfully convincing them to relinquish their resources in order to win God’s favor. Or in another case, what we might want is a congregation with a bigger worship attendance, so Jesus becomes the recruitment officer for God’s army, whose only purpose is to get people enrolled in the organization.
Ecclesiology
And speaking of the organization, since when did the church become an entity inhabiting a separate location than the people? Isn’t it true anymore that “I am the church; you are the church; we are the church together”? Or was that just a cute little Sunday School song that we are using to brainwash our kiddies into thinking they are actually important? (he said sarcastically.)
Throughout the book, the people are considered to be separate from the church. This is just plain bad ecclesiology. The entire premise is that “people” give to “the church,” and that just doesn’t make any sense to me. A representative sentence: “We must learn to answer the question our donors are asking us, ‘Why should I give to you?’”
Offering isn’t giving “to the church,” it is Christian discipleship. It is an act of worship. It is the church giving of itself in order to accomplish God’s mission. It is a part of our response to the grace of God given to us through the faithfulness of Jesus Christ and enlivened by the presence of the Holy Spirit in our midst. Or to put it another way, “Growing in the grace of giving is a response Christian disciples offer to God’s call to make a difference in the world.” (Bishop Robert Schnase)
To me, this is a more faithful approach to finances, and I know from experience that it is an approach that works. It is the approach we have taken in two different congregations in which I have served, and it has been effective at both of them. Both congregations were actively engaged in local and global ministries, and continue to make significant and transformative impact in the lives of people. (That’s not nearly as much experience as Clif Christopher has, but it ought to count for something.)
My ecclesiology does not make it possible for me to think in terms of the church as an organization, but more as an organism. (I can’t remember where I originally heard this distinction, but it’s not mine originally, that’s for sure.) I know that there are structures everywhere; even clouds have structure (thank you Dr. Robert Martin). And yet we shouldn’t think that the people are separate from that structure. Far from it - the people comprise the structure itself.
And so, what do I do with a book that has some excellent practical suggestions but derives them from a theology that I personally cannot agree with? Plus, I’m not so sure that Christopher makes the connection between the theology he holds and the practical suggestions he derives. It almost feels like he came up with some practical ideas and then tried to justify them scripturally and theologically.
It’s a tough one for me, too, because coming from my own theological perspective, I have arrived at many of the very same practical suggestions that this book does. Now how did that happen?
Maybe it says something about trying to universalize ideas that really are very contextual. My approach has worked in the places I have served, but probably wouldn’t elsewhere.
One of the things I have heard over and over in the places I have served is how tired people are of the church “asking for money” all the time. To me, this book feels like just another way to ask people for money, rather than infusing the church with an attitude of extravagant generosity.
If anyone is still reading by this point, I welcome your thoughts…
Monday, May 02, 2011
Death, Where is Your Victory?
There have been a lot of “takes” offered today in reaction to the death of Osama bin Laden. These have not been measured and thoughtful reflections; not enough time has passed to allow for that. They have been quick, almost reflexive. Many have consisted of cheers and celebrations, some of sober questions, some of dire predictions.
As I have read them, I have been struck by how much power one man’s death has had over so many people. News of this death spread even more quickly than the official announcement. All night long and throughout the day, electronic opinions have been shared all around the world, in multiple formats - text messages, Facebook statuses, blog posts, Tweets, TV and radio commentaries.
These reactions have quoted scripture, Martin Luther King, Jr., Mark Twain, and a slew of commentators from here, there, and everywhere. It has been quite a phenomenon.
All of this from one man’s death.
Are we so feeble as to allow one man’s death to influence us to such frenetic affectation?
Especially for those of us who follow Jesus, over whom death has no power, it seems to me that Osama bin Laden’s death should not incite such outbursts.
After all, “We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him. The death he died, he died to sin, once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus. Therefore, do not let sin exercise dominion in your mortal bodies, to make you obey their passions. No longer present your members to sin as instruments of wickedness, but present yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life, and present your members to God as instruments of righteousness. For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace” (Romans 16:5-14).
When death controls your actions, it has power over you. Death wins. You lose yourself in your reaction to the stimulus. That’s not a bad thing when you cheer for your favorite baseball team. It’s fun to get caught up in cheering with a crowd of fans for a home run or a strikeout. But cheering for death? Allowing death to be “victorious” over our words, actions, even our thoughts? I do not find that to be compatible with the teachings of Christ.
“What I am saying, brothers and sisters, is this: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. Listen, I will tell you a mystery! We will not all die, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For this perishable body must put on imperishability, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When this perishable body puts on imperishability, and this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that is written will be fulfilled:
‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’
‘Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?’
The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:50-56).
Those who loved the man will mourn, and although those who did not love him will not mourn, neither should we cheer. We should not allow his death to be victorious over us. We should not allow his death to have power over us. He lived, he did horrific, evil, despicable things during his life, and now he is dead. He was the leader of a group whose actions are a threat to innocent life all around the world, and now that threat is diminished. The inspiring service of the men and women in the armed forces of our nation is to be commended.
I don’t know if this is a fitting metaphor or not, but let me give it a try. Sometimes a football player scores a touchdown, and then proceeds to make a complete and utter fool of himself during the celebration. Other times, a player goes up to the ref and hands him the ball. It is just as good a touchdown, but the reaction is different. This time, I think America just needs to go up to the ref and hand him the ball, then go get ready for the kickoff.
For Christians, the time is now, more than ever, to remember that “if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory” (Colossians 3:1-4).
Christ revealed. You also revealed.
Is what you are saying right now revealing Christ? Is what you are doing right now revealing Christ? Is what you are writing right now revealing Christ? Do you remember that you have died, and now your life is Christ’s? Is your mind set on things that are above, on God?
Let us not succumb to the power of death, especially not now.
As I have read them, I have been struck by how much power one man’s death has had over so many people. News of this death spread even more quickly than the official announcement. All night long and throughout the day, electronic opinions have been shared all around the world, in multiple formats - text messages, Facebook statuses, blog posts, Tweets, TV and radio commentaries.
These reactions have quoted scripture, Martin Luther King, Jr., Mark Twain, and a slew of commentators from here, there, and everywhere. It has been quite a phenomenon.
All of this from one man’s death.
Are we so feeble as to allow one man’s death to influence us to such frenetic affectation?
Especially for those of us who follow Jesus, over whom death has no power, it seems to me that Osama bin Laden’s death should not incite such outbursts.
After all, “We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him. The death he died, he died to sin, once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus. Therefore, do not let sin exercise dominion in your mortal bodies, to make you obey their passions. No longer present your members to sin as instruments of wickedness, but present yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life, and present your members to God as instruments of righteousness. For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace” (Romans 16:5-14).
When death controls your actions, it has power over you. Death wins. You lose yourself in your reaction to the stimulus. That’s not a bad thing when you cheer for your favorite baseball team. It’s fun to get caught up in cheering with a crowd of fans for a home run or a strikeout. But cheering for death? Allowing death to be “victorious” over our words, actions, even our thoughts? I do not find that to be compatible with the teachings of Christ.
“What I am saying, brothers and sisters, is this: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. Listen, I will tell you a mystery! We will not all die, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For this perishable body must put on imperishability, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When this perishable body puts on imperishability, and this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that is written will be fulfilled:
‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’
‘Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?’
The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:50-56).
Those who loved the man will mourn, and although those who did not love him will not mourn, neither should we cheer. We should not allow his death to be victorious over us. We should not allow his death to have power over us. He lived, he did horrific, evil, despicable things during his life, and now he is dead. He was the leader of a group whose actions are a threat to innocent life all around the world, and now that threat is diminished. The inspiring service of the men and women in the armed forces of our nation is to be commended.
I don’t know if this is a fitting metaphor or not, but let me give it a try. Sometimes a football player scores a touchdown, and then proceeds to make a complete and utter fool of himself during the celebration. Other times, a player goes up to the ref and hands him the ball. It is just as good a touchdown, but the reaction is different. This time, I think America just needs to go up to the ref and hand him the ball, then go get ready for the kickoff.
For Christians, the time is now, more than ever, to remember that “if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory” (Colossians 3:1-4).
Christ revealed. You also revealed.
Is what you are saying right now revealing Christ? Is what you are doing right now revealing Christ? Is what you are writing right now revealing Christ? Do you remember that you have died, and now your life is Christ’s? Is your mind set on things that are above, on God?
Let us not succumb to the power of death, especially not now.
Monday, April 11, 2011
The Jesus Interruption - Day 29
Turmoil.
That’s what was happening in the whole city of Jerusalem when Jesus entered on the first Palm Sunday. Other translations say “stirred” or “stirred up” or “moved” or “in an uproar” or even “trembling with excitement.” (This is what happens when a Greek word is hard to translate; it takes a lot of English words to convey the fullness of its meaning.)
Or we could just use our word of the season - INTERRUPTION! Jesus broke in between the life of the city, causing a disturbance that percolated up from his disciples until it every single soul in the city could feel it.
What would it take to interrupt the entire population of the city of Jerusalem? It was a big city, vibrant and cosmopolitan, a center of trade, culture, and religion. There may have been as many as 80,000 people living there at the time.
This Sunday is Palm Sunday, the beginning of the holiest week of the year for followers of Jesus. We gather to worship this week, already knowing the story that unfolds, but ready to experience it once more.
Sunday, a parade of palms in the morning and walking the way of the cross in the afternoon. Monday, evening vespers. Thursday, remembering the last supper Jesus ate with his disciples. Friday, reliving the story of Jesus’s passion and death. Saturday, waiting in the darkness of the tomb through the night in an Easter vigil. Sunday, celebrating the sunrise and the resurrection of the Lord.
May we all experience the holiness of this week as a powerful interruption, capable of creating citywide turmoil, in the very center of our souls.
That’s what was happening in the whole city of Jerusalem when Jesus entered on the first Palm Sunday. Other translations say “stirred” or “stirred up” or “moved” or “in an uproar” or even “trembling with excitement.” (This is what happens when a Greek word is hard to translate; it takes a lot of English words to convey the fullness of its meaning.)
Or we could just use our word of the season - INTERRUPTION! Jesus broke in between the life of the city, causing a disturbance that percolated up from his disciples until it every single soul in the city could feel it.
What would it take to interrupt the entire population of the city of Jerusalem? It was a big city, vibrant and cosmopolitan, a center of trade, culture, and religion. There may have been as many as 80,000 people living there at the time.
This Sunday is Palm Sunday, the beginning of the holiest week of the year for followers of Jesus. We gather to worship this week, already knowing the story that unfolds, but ready to experience it once more.
Sunday, a parade of palms in the morning and walking the way of the cross in the afternoon. Monday, evening vespers. Thursday, remembering the last supper Jesus ate with his disciples. Friday, reliving the story of Jesus’s passion and death. Saturday, waiting in the darkness of the tomb through the night in an Easter vigil. Sunday, celebrating the sunrise and the resurrection of the Lord.
May we all experience the holiness of this week as a powerful interruption, capable of creating citywide turmoil, in the very center of our souls.
Thursday, April 07, 2011
The Jesus Interruption - Day 26
Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - Lazarus, Martha, and Mary (John 11)
It stinks when you open up a tomb in which a dead body has been sealed for four days. Not meaning it “stinks” as in it isn’t the greatest situation, but that it really smells bad.
I love it that Martha pointed this out to Jesus, don’t you? As far as I can tell, Martha is in the Bible only twice, once in Luke 10 and once here, in John 11 and 12. And she is pragmatic to the core both times we encounter her.
Pragmatic, down to earth, no nonsense - Martha. In Luke, she is so occupied with doing stuff that she forgets to sit down and listen to Jesus. In John, she tactfully, and quite pragmatically, reminds Jesus that tombs tend to stink after a few days.
It reminds me of the woman at the well, who suggested Jesus would be unable to draw his water without a bucket. It reminds me of Nicodemus at night, who pragmatically suggested that it was going to be impossible to re-enter the womb of one’s mother.
Could it be that being practical, down to earth, no nonsense somehow misses the point? In all of these stories, the ones who took a stab at practicality had to be nudged a bit by Jesus in order to get to where he wanted them to be. Is being a Christian impractical?
No, that doesn’t seem right to me. I believe that my faith has many direct, practical implications on my life in many and various ways.
So maybe it’s more about getting stuck. Stuckness prevents you from moving. You get stuck in moments and are unable to progress. Nicodemus got stuck on “born again;” the woman got stuck on the bucket.
Martha got stuck thinking about stinky tombs and almost missed what Jesus had to say.
You get stuck in a tomb …
One way to say it might be that Jesus is in the business of getting people unstuck from wherever they find themselves and moving them to a better place.
Lazarus, come forth!
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - Lazarus, Martha, and Mary (John 11)
It stinks when you open up a tomb in which a dead body has been sealed for four days. Not meaning it “stinks” as in it isn’t the greatest situation, but that it really smells bad.
I love it that Martha pointed this out to Jesus, don’t you? As far as I can tell, Martha is in the Bible only twice, once in Luke 10 and once here, in John 11 and 12. And she is pragmatic to the core both times we encounter her.
Pragmatic, down to earth, no nonsense - Martha. In Luke, she is so occupied with doing stuff that she forgets to sit down and listen to Jesus. In John, she tactfully, and quite pragmatically, reminds Jesus that tombs tend to stink after a few days.
It reminds me of the woman at the well, who suggested Jesus would be unable to draw his water without a bucket. It reminds me of Nicodemus at night, who pragmatically suggested that it was going to be impossible to re-enter the womb of one’s mother.
Could it be that being practical, down to earth, no nonsense somehow misses the point? In all of these stories, the ones who took a stab at practicality had to be nudged a bit by Jesus in order to get to where he wanted them to be. Is being a Christian impractical?
No, that doesn’t seem right to me. I believe that my faith has many direct, practical implications on my life in many and various ways.
So maybe it’s more about getting stuck. Stuckness prevents you from moving. You get stuck in moments and are unable to progress. Nicodemus got stuck on “born again;” the woman got stuck on the bucket.
Martha got stuck thinking about stinky tombs and almost missed what Jesus had to say.
You get stuck in a tomb …
One way to say it might be that Jesus is in the business of getting people unstuck from wherever they find themselves and moving them to a better place.
Lazarus, come forth!
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
The Jesus Interruption - Day 25
Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - Lazarus, Martha, and Mary (John 11)
Why does Jesus cry?
When he heard of Lazarus's illness, he delayed two days before leaving where he was. He intends for this delay to reveal God's glory in a way that, apparently, would not be possible if he had left immediately. This is to be a divine sign of power through which witnesses will experience God's presence in a way they never have before.
And this makes Jesus sad?
He knows that Lazarus will rise, doesn't he? Why the groaning? Why the distress?
Some will say that it reveals his humanity. That it shows his raising Lazarus was an act of human compassion. After all, there were more folks than just Lazarus who had died that day, and he didn't raise them. The thinking is that it was his special relationship with Martha, Mary, and their brother Lazarus that compelled Jesus to raise him, pressed his compassion button.
And yet that interpretation puts this story at odds with some others that John tells. I believe John is trying to reveal something about Jesus's divinity, not his humanity. He is trying to get people to belive that Jesus is "the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing, you may have life in his name" (20:31).
Could it be that John was trying to reveal something about Jesus's divine character rather than his humanness? Could it be that John was allowing us to see the Son of God cry so that we would know that God has compassion for the human situation? Could it be that John is addressing our theodicy question in this tale of death, grief, and then rebirth?
Could it be an encouraging thought to know that even God cries sometimes?
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - Lazarus, Martha, and Mary (John 11)
Why does Jesus cry?
When he heard of Lazarus's illness, he delayed two days before leaving where he was. He intends for this delay to reveal God's glory in a way that, apparently, would not be possible if he had left immediately. This is to be a divine sign of power through which witnesses will experience God's presence in a way they never have before.
And this makes Jesus sad?
He knows that Lazarus will rise, doesn't he? Why the groaning? Why the distress?
Some will say that it reveals his humanity. That it shows his raising Lazarus was an act of human compassion. After all, there were more folks than just Lazarus who had died that day, and he didn't raise them. The thinking is that it was his special relationship with Martha, Mary, and their brother Lazarus that compelled Jesus to raise him, pressed his compassion button.
And yet that interpretation puts this story at odds with some others that John tells. I believe John is trying to reveal something about Jesus's divinity, not his humanity. He is trying to get people to belive that Jesus is "the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing, you may have life in his name" (20:31).
Could it be that John was trying to reveal something about Jesus's divine character rather than his humanness? Could it be that John was allowing us to see the Son of God cry so that we would know that God has compassion for the human situation? Could it be that John is addressing our theodicy question in this tale of death, grief, and then rebirth?
Could it be an encouraging thought to know that even God cries sometimes?
Tuesday, April 05, 2011
The Jesus Interruption - Day 24
Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - Lazarus, Martha, and Mary (John 11)
Just how significant do we allow Jesus to be? How deeply do we believe he is capable of going into our lives? Exactly how powerfully do we anticipate he will interrupt us in order to bring about the transformation that is possible in our new life in him?
Surely we underestimate, however we imagine it. I mean, whatever we think Jesus is capable of doing, it seems to me that we ought to magnify it a million times and then we would only be glimpsing a very tiny fraction of the potential.
In John 11, Jesus interrupts death itself!
Lazarus, in the tomb four days already, cold, wrapped in cloth, tomb sealed with a boulder - Jesus proclaims, “Lazarus, come forth!” - and he does.
There is no hardness that Jesus cannot soften, the rigor of death or the rigidity of the mind. There is no coldness that he cannot warm, the coldness of the tomb or the insidiousness of hatred. There is no seal that he cannot break, be it over a tomb or over your heart.
He will call out, “Come forth!” and you will. Wherever you are, Jesus will find a way to interrupt you, so that you can live a new life.
Lent gives us the time and space to listen for him, deep in our own tombs of grief, pain, brokenness. He is calling us even now. On Sunday we who hear him calling will gather to worship, emerging from where we are into where he wants us to be. Lazarus, come forth!
Just how significant do we allow Jesus to be? How deeply do we believe he is capable of going into our lives? Exactly how powerfully do we anticipate he will interrupt us in order to bring about the transformation that is possible in our new life in him?
Surely we underestimate, however we imagine it. I mean, whatever we think Jesus is capable of doing, it seems to me that we ought to magnify it a million times and then we would only be glimpsing a very tiny fraction of the potential.
In John 11, Jesus interrupts death itself!
Lazarus, in the tomb four days already, cold, wrapped in cloth, tomb sealed with a boulder - Jesus proclaims, “Lazarus, come forth!” - and he does.
There is no hardness that Jesus cannot soften, the rigor of death or the rigidity of the mind. There is no coldness that he cannot warm, the coldness of the tomb or the insidiousness of hatred. There is no seal that he cannot break, be it over a tomb or over your heart.
He will call out, “Come forth!” and you will. Wherever you are, Jesus will find a way to interrupt you, so that you can live a new life.
Lent gives us the time and space to listen for him, deep in our own tombs of grief, pain, brokenness. He is calling us even now. On Sunday we who hear him calling will gather to worship, emerging from where we are into where he wants us to be. Lazarus, come forth!
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
The Jesus Interruption - Day 18
Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - The Samaritan Woman at the Well (John 4)
This is the 18th day of Lent, not counting Sundays, which we don't, and the last time I sat down to write about The Jesus Interruption it was the 14th day of Lent. I had hoped to write a little bit every day, except Sundays, which I wouldn't, but so much for that. My interruption, it seems, got interrupted by ... stuff.
Kind of reminds me of that Samaritan woman in John 4. She interrupted the middle of her day to go and get water at the local well. It seems from the story that she may have made a habit of it, choosing noon as her water fetching time in order to avoid the rush in the morning. It may even be that she wanted to avoid being seen or having to converse with any of the others there at the time. We speculate that she may have her reasons for wanting to avoid other people.
And, lo and behold, her daily interruption gets interrupted! Not only is someone else at the well, this someone actually dares to speak to her! There is nothing much more frustrating than when you don't want to be spoken to, and someone speaks to you, is there?
"Look, all I want to do is just get my water and go home! I'm not really in the mood for a conversation right now."
But no, he greets her, asks for some water, utters some truly strange statements about water that may or may not be sentient, speaks aloud the woman's secrets as if they were common knowledge, and then proceeds into a theological conversation about the way their respective communities worship God.
And here's the thing: she goes with it! She not only allows this conversation, this interruption in her interruption, but she is moved by it. She is changed.
Funny how sometimes Jesus interrupts our perfectly reasonable interruptions in order to teach us something transfomational, isn't it?
This is the 18th day of Lent, not counting Sundays, which we don't, and the last time I sat down to write about The Jesus Interruption it was the 14th day of Lent. I had hoped to write a little bit every day, except Sundays, which I wouldn't, but so much for that. My interruption, it seems, got interrupted by ... stuff.
Kind of reminds me of that Samaritan woman in John 4. She interrupted the middle of her day to go and get water at the local well. It seems from the story that she may have made a habit of it, choosing noon as her water fetching time in order to avoid the rush in the morning. It may even be that she wanted to avoid being seen or having to converse with any of the others there at the time. We speculate that she may have her reasons for wanting to avoid other people.
And, lo and behold, her daily interruption gets interrupted! Not only is someone else at the well, this someone actually dares to speak to her! There is nothing much more frustrating than when you don't want to be spoken to, and someone speaks to you, is there?
"Look, all I want to do is just get my water and go home! I'm not really in the mood for a conversation right now."
But no, he greets her, asks for some water, utters some truly strange statements about water that may or may not be sentient, speaks aloud the woman's secrets as if they were common knowledge, and then proceeds into a theological conversation about the way their respective communities worship God.
And here's the thing: she goes with it! She not only allows this conversation, this interruption in her interruption, but she is moved by it. She is changed.
Funny how sometimes Jesus interrupts our perfectly reasonable interruptions in order to teach us something transfomational, isn't it?
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The Jesus Interruption - Day 14
Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - The Blind Man (John 9)
For your information, last night at Bible study, we decided that the blind man's name is Ray. So be it.
Notice how Ray moves through this story:
He is not seeking Jesus. > He is healed by Jesus. > To his neighbors' questions, he refers to Jesus as "the man called Jesus." > To the Pharisees' challenges, he calls Jesus "a prophet." > When he meets Jesus, seeing him for the first time, he calls him "Lord" and worships him.
For Ray to get from "not seeking" to "worshiping," he travelled a long and winding road; it did not happen in a single big moment. And that long winding road was comprised of some pretty challenging conversations, first with his neighbors and then with his spiritual leaders. And when it came down to it, Ray's experience with Jesus provided him all he needed.
"I don't know any of the answers to your questions," he said, "But I know one thing: I was blind, and now I can see."
His transformation is big. He was an object for discussion, and became the primary subject of the story. He was a beggar, and is no longer. He had never been able to see, and now he sees clearly.
He had no idea who Jesus was, and became his disciple.
I wonder ...
... how many times have I dismissed somebody else's experience and stuck to my understanding instead?
... how often does "The Church" function as the Pharisees in this story, insisting on a codified interpretation of God and minimizing any experience that may be contrary?
... how many radical transformations have happened somewhere other than in "The Church" because the church's tendency is to challenge the Rays of the world instead of welcome them?
... but then again, isn't that challenge just exactly what Ray needed in order to be transformed? It seems as though the challenge of his neighbors and the Pharisees helped him in his process of conversion. Does resistance always have to accompany growth?
... or maybe ... even deeper ... does placing "The Church" in the position of "The Pharisees" in this story give "us" too much credit? I mean, the church is really a whole bunch of Rays getting together to try to see clearly, aren't we? Is doing so the same as equating John's phrase "the Jews" with every Jewish person, when he really meant the Temple leadership?
Jesus says, "We must work the works of the one who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world."
(Warning: Upcoming metaphor overload...)
So, can we be Rays of Light? Can we rethink church as radiators of Christ? We are not the light; we give testimony to the light. But even more, we are called to reflect the light ourselves, to illuminate darkness with Christ's light, to become transparent so that God's light shines through us.
But that process starts with confessing our blindness, and allowing Jesus to touch us, awakening our spiritual senses so that we can continue the long and winding journey of salvation.
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - The Blind Man (John 9)
For your information, last night at Bible study, we decided that the blind man's name is Ray. So be it.
Notice how Ray moves through this story:
He is not seeking Jesus. > He is healed by Jesus. > To his neighbors' questions, he refers to Jesus as "the man called Jesus." > To the Pharisees' challenges, he calls Jesus "a prophet." > When he meets Jesus, seeing him for the first time, he calls him "Lord" and worships him.
For Ray to get from "not seeking" to "worshiping," he travelled a long and winding road; it did not happen in a single big moment. And that long winding road was comprised of some pretty challenging conversations, first with his neighbors and then with his spiritual leaders. And when it came down to it, Ray's experience with Jesus provided him all he needed.
"I don't know any of the answers to your questions," he said, "But I know one thing: I was blind, and now I can see."
His transformation is big. He was an object for discussion, and became the primary subject of the story. He was a beggar, and is no longer. He had never been able to see, and now he sees clearly.
He had no idea who Jesus was, and became his disciple.
I wonder ...
... how many times have I dismissed somebody else's experience and stuck to my understanding instead?
... how often does "The Church" function as the Pharisees in this story, insisting on a codified interpretation of God and minimizing any experience that may be contrary?
... how many radical transformations have happened somewhere other than in "The Church" because the church's tendency is to challenge the Rays of the world instead of welcome them?
... but then again, isn't that challenge just exactly what Ray needed in order to be transformed? It seems as though the challenge of his neighbors and the Pharisees helped him in his process of conversion. Does resistance always have to accompany growth?
... or maybe ... even deeper ... does placing "The Church" in the position of "The Pharisees" in this story give "us" too much credit? I mean, the church is really a whole bunch of Rays getting together to try to see clearly, aren't we? Is doing so the same as equating John's phrase "the Jews" with every Jewish person, when he really meant the Temple leadership?
Jesus says, "We must work the works of the one who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world."
(Warning: Upcoming metaphor overload...)
So, can we be Rays of Light? Can we rethink church as radiators of Christ? We are not the light; we give testimony to the light. But even more, we are called to reflect the light ourselves, to illuminate darkness with Christ's light, to become transparent so that God's light shines through us.
But that process starts with confessing our blindness, and allowing Jesus to touch us, awakening our spiritual senses so that we can continue the long and winding journey of salvation.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
The Jesus Interruption - Day 12
Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - The Blind Man (John 9)
It feels like a random encounter at first. The disciples just happen to be walking along and sort of come upon this blind man. Seeing him prompts a theological discussion, of which he is the object.
I wonder if he said, "Um, hello? I am blind, but I am not deaf! I can hear you, you know. I'm standing right here and you're talking about me as if I am a case study for your spiritual growth. I am not a curriculum illustration!"
In this whole story of blindness and sight, John works at multiple levels to reveal where blindness is. And it seems to me that one of those levels is with the disciples themselves, treating this man as if he is no more than an object for discussion.
And notice how quickly John move the man from being the object of conversation to the subject of the story. Even Jesus himself, after healing the man's sight, fades away. The man becomes the primary actor, even standing toe to toe with the Pharisees.
And what is his declaration? "I don't know some things, but one thing I am sure of - I was blind, but now I see."
How many times to we regard others as objects, rather than beloved individuals of sacred worth? When we pre-judge another person, lumping them into a category before truly knowing them as a unique self, we take away their inherent dignity and value. And we have a bunch of categories to choose from, don't we? Old, young, liberal, conservative, evangelical, activist, gay, straight, poor, rich, middle-class, immigrant, white, black, hispanic, asian - and the list goes on and on.
We like these categories because they allow us to order our world in a preconceived notion of "should" that makes us feel secure. But when we do, we are treating people as if they are objects, and that is wrong. Instead, Jesus reaches into the life of the individual person and heals what needs to be healed so that they can live a new life.
May we interrupt our prejudices in order to see people as Jesus sees them - beloved children of sacred worth.
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - The Blind Man (John 9)
It feels like a random encounter at first. The disciples just happen to be walking along and sort of come upon this blind man. Seeing him prompts a theological discussion, of which he is the object.
I wonder if he said, "Um, hello? I am blind, but I am not deaf! I can hear you, you know. I'm standing right here and you're talking about me as if I am a case study for your spiritual growth. I am not a curriculum illustration!"
In this whole story of blindness and sight, John works at multiple levels to reveal where blindness is. And it seems to me that one of those levels is with the disciples themselves, treating this man as if he is no more than an object for discussion.
And notice how quickly John move the man from being the object of conversation to the subject of the story. Even Jesus himself, after healing the man's sight, fades away. The man becomes the primary actor, even standing toe to toe with the Pharisees.
And what is his declaration? "I don't know some things, but one thing I am sure of - I was blind, but now I see."
How many times to we regard others as objects, rather than beloved individuals of sacred worth? When we pre-judge another person, lumping them into a category before truly knowing them as a unique self, we take away their inherent dignity and value. And we have a bunch of categories to choose from, don't we? Old, young, liberal, conservative, evangelical, activist, gay, straight, poor, rich, middle-class, immigrant, white, black, hispanic, asian - and the list goes on and on.
We like these categories because they allow us to order our world in a preconceived notion of "should" that makes us feel secure. But when we do, we are treating people as if they are objects, and that is wrong. Instead, Jesus reaches into the life of the individual person and heals what needs to be healed so that they can live a new life.
May we interrupt our prejudices in order to see people as Jesus sees them - beloved children of sacred worth.
Monday, March 21, 2011
The Jesus Interruption - Day 11
Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - The Blind Man (John 9)
“Let there be light.”
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”
“One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”
Scripture often uses the metaphor of light and darkness (or sight and blindness) to teach us something about our relationship with God. The storyteller John shares a powerful story of blindness and sight in chapter nine of his gospel.
Here we are introduced to a man who was born blind. The Jesus Interruption that this man experiences restores his physical sight, but it doesn’t take long to realize that there is more going on here than just a physical healing.
This week in worship, we will explore the story of this unnamed man. His encounter with Jesus obviously unsettled his life in a remarkable way. He was able to see the world in a brand new way, experiencing his surroundings in a way that he had only been able to dream about. It was bright, unfamiliar, and perhaps frightening.
And under the surface, he wrestles with an explanation. How did this happen? he asks himself. He is grilled by his neighbors. The Pharisees interrogate him, as well as his parents. He is banned from his synagogue by the closed-minded leaders. Ultimately he confesses his belief in Christ. “Lord, I believe!”
What are your spiritual “blind spots”? How might your eyes be opened by an encounter with Jesus this season? How might a Jesus Interruption illuminate the darkness in your life?
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - The Blind Man (John 9)
“Let there be light.”
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”
“One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”
Scripture often uses the metaphor of light and darkness (or sight and blindness) to teach us something about our relationship with God. The storyteller John shares a powerful story of blindness and sight in chapter nine of his gospel.
Here we are introduced to a man who was born blind. The Jesus Interruption that this man experiences restores his physical sight, but it doesn’t take long to realize that there is more going on here than just a physical healing.
This week in worship, we will explore the story of this unnamed man. His encounter with Jesus obviously unsettled his life in a remarkable way. He was able to see the world in a brand new way, experiencing his surroundings in a way that he had only been able to dream about. It was bright, unfamiliar, and perhaps frightening.
And under the surface, he wrestles with an explanation. How did this happen? he asks himself. He is grilled by his neighbors. The Pharisees interrogate him, as well as his parents. He is banned from his synagogue by the closed-minded leaders. Ultimately he confesses his belief in Christ. “Lord, I believe!”
What are your spiritual “blind spots”? How might your eyes be opened by an encounter with Jesus this season? How might a Jesus Interruption illuminate the darkness in your life?
Saturday, March 19, 2011
The Jesus Interruption - Day 10
Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - Nicodemus (John 2:23-3:17)
It is the tenth day of the season of Lent. It is also March 19, which usually means a windy Spring day. And today is no exception.
Wesley and I flew kites today, and it was great! Strong, steady wind kept our kites flying high above our heads for almost an hour. All was well, until ...
A gust pushed my kite over the string of Wesley's kite, another swirl looped my kite sharply downward, and when the strings crossed, my kite's string cut right through Wesley's.
Untethered, Wesley's kite immediately made a beeline for the highway, rapidly losing altitude as it fluttered away. It cleared the fence, and came to a halt on the ground in between the fence and the shoulder. Wesley was a bit worried, thinking it might fly into a car and cause a real ruckus. Fortunately, it did not, so I handed Wes the handle of my kite and started off after his.
I hopped the fence and retrieved it, then hopped back over. I retied the ends of the string together, and soon Wesley's kite was up and flying beautifully again.
Spiritual growth is a process of becoming untethered from what we know, experiencing the chaos of new understanding, then synthesizing it all into a new knowledge. Not just head knowledge, of course - I'm referring to a relationship with God.
Like a kite untethered, this growth can make us worried, nervous, even scared. Any change usually does that. And if it goes on forever, it can cause a real ruckus. But it is necessary for growth, and growth is necessary for discipleship.
Nicodemus was untethered by his encounter with Jesus, and he went to him by night to try to reconnect himself. But we leave the story not knowing how or even if Nick ever got tied back in. He just kinds of fades away. Later appearances in the Gospel of John reveal spiritual growth, but John never tells us explicitly that Nicodemus has become a believer. We are left to wonder.
Growth is change, and change always seems to freak people out. So instead of growing, we tend toward unthreatening, non-scary, comfortable stagnation. But it seems to me that, if you compare a person who is always seeking answers to life's new questions to a person who is satisfied with the answers they already know, the person who is always seeking is actually the one who is more spiritually mature.
May we never fall into the trap of thinking that there's nothing else to learn, no deeper to grow in our relationship with God, no new step to take along the spiritual journey that is Christian discipleship. Let our prayer be for God to untether us from our preconceived notions so that we can continue to mature into the people that God desires us to become.
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - Nicodemus (John 2:23-3:17)
It is the tenth day of the season of Lent. It is also March 19, which usually means a windy Spring day. And today is no exception.
Wesley and I flew kites today, and it was great! Strong, steady wind kept our kites flying high above our heads for almost an hour. All was well, until ...
A gust pushed my kite over the string of Wesley's kite, another swirl looped my kite sharply downward, and when the strings crossed, my kite's string cut right through Wesley's.
Untethered, Wesley's kite immediately made a beeline for the highway, rapidly losing altitude as it fluttered away. It cleared the fence, and came to a halt on the ground in between the fence and the shoulder. Wesley was a bit worried, thinking it might fly into a car and cause a real ruckus. Fortunately, it did not, so I handed Wes the handle of my kite and started off after his.
I hopped the fence and retrieved it, then hopped back over. I retied the ends of the string together, and soon Wesley's kite was up and flying beautifully again.
Spiritual growth is a process of becoming untethered from what we know, experiencing the chaos of new understanding, then synthesizing it all into a new knowledge. Not just head knowledge, of course - I'm referring to a relationship with God.
Like a kite untethered, this growth can make us worried, nervous, even scared. Any change usually does that. And if it goes on forever, it can cause a real ruckus. But it is necessary for growth, and growth is necessary for discipleship.
Nicodemus was untethered by his encounter with Jesus, and he went to him by night to try to reconnect himself. But we leave the story not knowing how or even if Nick ever got tied back in. He just kinds of fades away. Later appearances in the Gospel of John reveal spiritual growth, but John never tells us explicitly that Nicodemus has become a believer. We are left to wonder.
Growth is change, and change always seems to freak people out. So instead of growing, we tend toward unthreatening, non-scary, comfortable stagnation. But it seems to me that, if you compare a person who is always seeking answers to life's new questions to a person who is satisfied with the answers they already know, the person who is always seeking is actually the one who is more spiritually mature.
May we never fall into the trap of thinking that there's nothing else to learn, no deeper to grow in our relationship with God, no new step to take along the spiritual journey that is Christian discipleship. Let our prayer be for God to untether us from our preconceived notions so that we can continue to mature into the people that God desires us to become.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
The Jesus Interruption - Day 7
Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - Nicodemus (John 2:23-3:17)
I am fascinated by Nicodemus. I'm not sure why.
Much us made of the timing of his visit with Jesus. It happened at night. Most of the speculation surrounds Nicodemus; ... is he scared of being caught? ... is he hiding from his fellow Pharisees? ... is he trying to avoid the crowds?
Nobody ever asks What was Jesus doing up so late. Do you think Nicodemus had to wake him up? Was Jesus cranky? Did he have bed head? Or was he sitting up, awake and alert, waiting for Nick to show up because he knew he would? Like a scene in a spy movie: "Mr. Bond, we have been expecting you."
I like to think that the reason Nick came to visit Jesus at night was just because he couldn't sleep. Having seen the signs Jesus was doing, he knew there was something extraordinary happening here. So he was tossing and turning, mulling things over, his mind racing, and he finally kicked off the covers and decided to take a stroll.
And then, mostly subconsciously, his feet led him to the place where Jesus was.
"Can't sleep?" Jesus asked.
Nick shook his head no.
Jesus smiled a bit, and waited. There was a hesitant silence. And then ...
"Teacher, ... " Nick began ...
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - Nicodemus (John 2:23-3:17)
I am fascinated by Nicodemus. I'm not sure why.
Much us made of the timing of his visit with Jesus. It happened at night. Most of the speculation surrounds Nicodemus; ... is he scared of being caught? ... is he hiding from his fellow Pharisees? ... is he trying to avoid the crowds?
Nobody ever asks What was Jesus doing up so late. Do you think Nicodemus had to wake him up? Was Jesus cranky? Did he have bed head? Or was he sitting up, awake and alert, waiting for Nick to show up because he knew he would? Like a scene in a spy movie: "Mr. Bond, we have been expecting you."
I like to think that the reason Nick came to visit Jesus at night was just because he couldn't sleep. Having seen the signs Jesus was doing, he knew there was something extraordinary happening here. So he was tossing and turning, mulling things over, his mind racing, and he finally kicked off the covers and decided to take a stroll.
And then, mostly subconsciously, his feet led him to the place where Jesus was.
"Can't sleep?" Jesus asked.
Nick shook his head no.
Jesus smiled a bit, and waited. There was a hesitant silence. And then ...
"Teacher, ... " Nick began ...
Monday, March 14, 2011
The Jesus Interruption - Day 5
Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - Nicodemus (John 2:23-3:17)
There were many people who "believed in his name" because of the signs they saw Jesus do. But Jesus did not "entrust himself to them."
The word translated as "believed" is the same word that is translated "entrust." Tricky bit of reflection to do there. The people beleived in Jesus, but he didn't reciprocate? Does "entrust himself" mean "allow himself to be believed in?" As in, "I believe in you, Jesus!"
"Oh no you don't!" he replies, snapping his fingers in a Z.
The people who believed in him believed because of the miraculous things they had seen him do. But there's another tricky bit of reflection to do here. See, the only things he had done by this point in John's Gospel are call some disciples, change a little water into wine, and drive some livestock out of the Temple. Maybe there were some other things, other signs not recorded by John.
Maybe it's to get us thinking about why we believe ... or the difference between just believing and really having a relationship with Jesus ... or maybe it's to help us move from believing to living.
I believe in Jesus. Is it because of signs? Miracles? Stuff I have seen?
Or is it because of relationship? Love? Connections I have known?
What does it mean to believe at all? Is it to be impressed by power? Or to accept as true a certain set of teachings? Is it to have confidence in someone or something?
It's the kind of stuff that would make a person want to go to Jesus by night and ask a few questions...
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - Nicodemus (John 2:23-3:17)
There were many people who "believed in his name" because of the signs they saw Jesus do. But Jesus did not "entrust himself to them."
The word translated as "believed" is the same word that is translated "entrust." Tricky bit of reflection to do there. The people beleived in Jesus, but he didn't reciprocate? Does "entrust himself" mean "allow himself to be believed in?" As in, "I believe in you, Jesus!"
"Oh no you don't!" he replies, snapping his fingers in a Z.
The people who believed in him believed because of the miraculous things they had seen him do. But there's another tricky bit of reflection to do here. See, the only things he had done by this point in John's Gospel are call some disciples, change a little water into wine, and drive some livestock out of the Temple. Maybe there were some other things, other signs not recorded by John.
Maybe it's to get us thinking about why we believe ... or the difference between just believing and really having a relationship with Jesus ... or maybe it's to help us move from believing to living.
I believe in Jesus. Is it because of signs? Miracles? Stuff I have seen?
Or is it because of relationship? Love? Connections I have known?
What does it mean to believe at all? Is it to be impressed by power? Or to accept as true a certain set of teachings? Is it to have confidence in someone or something?
It's the kind of stuff that would make a person want to go to Jesus by night and ask a few questions...
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