He is a tiny newborn in a trough of animal food in a drafty barn. He would be shivering and His very life in danger, were He not wrapped in strips of cloth. He has done nothing yet; said nothing yet; can do nothing yet. His survival depends completely on His mother and her husband. Within days or weeks, armies will be searching for Him to murder Him because of the time He was born and the star He was born beneath. And His little family will run for their lives.
They are nothing if not virtuous. But beyond that, they are nothing as the world counts somethings. Their royal heritage no longer counts for anything in the current regime. They live in a nowhere country. They have nothing but Him, a precious baby, and a mount for His mother to ride.
But for a moment or two, there is a timeless intrusion of eternity into this smelly stable - an indescribable glory that a few simple shepherds have abandoned their flocks to the night to witness; that seers have traveled hundreds of miles to see; that angels in the very heavens are distantly singing about.
For all have come to worship, and they have brought with them - through history or anticipation - a hopeful host of mankind who can see their salvation in His tiny face.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Lessons from the Farm:Spiritual Insights from Rural Life
LIKE REGGIE:Exceptions to the Rule
Animals have personalities. We’ve had cattle on our farm as gentle at kittens, but others as mean as Al Qaeda operatives. Our place has been home to a snapping turtle with an attitude and an old black snake who's getting grumpier in his advanced years. Currently, we have six Golden Retrievers, who, for the most part, are very friendly and loving; however, there are exceptions to the rule…like Reggie, for instance.
Reggie came to us as an adult. She’s beautiful: deep copper coat, loaded with curls, regal shaped head, and creamy undercoat highlights. The first day we had her she was a little nervous, almost fearful. “Probably, just not accustomed to the new surroundings. She’ll settle down in a few days,” I told myself.
That was two and a half years ago. She is better, but yet, she never allows me closer to her than 10 feet. I’ve tried bribing her with food, cornering her and then calmly petting, scratching behind her ears, and speaking kindly. So far, nothing has managed to alay her fears. I think she was abused by the former owner and fears being hurt again.
Though understandable, her stand-offish behavior makes it tough for me to give her medications, comb her coat, or just generally love on her like I do the others. I told myself that if she wouldn’t allow me to help her, I’d have to give her away or have her put down.
Believe me, neither of those are desirable options. So, I was extremely delighted when I happened on a workable way of caring for her. It came by surprise one day when she voluntarily walked up to my son Benjamin. He patted her on the head and she responded by moving even closer.
Some time later I needed to move her to a different kennel, but she bolted when I walked toward her. We “played” chase until I was frustrated. Then I remembered how she’d responded to Benjamin. So, I sent him to catch her. Continuing to keep one eye on me, she sat still as Benjamin approached her. He slipped on the leash and led her into the new kennel. Her tail wagged all the way.
I told Benjamin, “She seems to trust you, Son. If you can manage her, you can have her.” He grinned with pleasure. Her tail wagged. I guess she’ll be staying with us after all. She's now responding to His care and we’re all happy to have found a solution, though honestly, I don’t know who is happier—me, Benjamin or Reggie.
Our tussle with Reggie is somewhat like the history of God’s troubles with mankind. Scripture says, “Lastly, the owner of the vineyard said, ‘What shall I do? I will send my son, whom I love; perhaps they will respect him.’ Therefore, God so loved the world that he sent His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”
Some people, like Reggie, live with fear. Working off personally painful experiences they pre-suppose that God may hurt them too. It's sad. They miss so much care and love by standing outside of His reach. The good news is that He's been kind enough to try reaching them via a new way--Jesus, His son. While it is true that not everyone responds to His son, there are, thank God, exceptions to every rule. I hope you are, or someday will be, such an exception…like Reggie, for instance.
Animals have personalities. We’ve had cattle on our farm as gentle at kittens, but others as mean as Al Qaeda operatives. Our place has been home to a snapping turtle with an attitude and an old black snake who's getting grumpier in his advanced years. Currently, we have six Golden Retrievers, who, for the most part, are very friendly and loving; however, there are exceptions to the rule…like Reggie, for instance.
Reggie came to us as an adult. She’s beautiful: deep copper coat, loaded with curls, regal shaped head, and creamy undercoat highlights. The first day we had her she was a little nervous, almost fearful. “Probably, just not accustomed to the new surroundings. She’ll settle down in a few days,” I told myself.
That was two and a half years ago. She is better, but yet, she never allows me closer to her than 10 feet. I’ve tried bribing her with food, cornering her and then calmly petting, scratching behind her ears, and speaking kindly. So far, nothing has managed to alay her fears. I think she was abused by the former owner and fears being hurt again.
Though understandable, her stand-offish behavior makes it tough for me to give her medications, comb her coat, or just generally love on her like I do the others. I told myself that if she wouldn’t allow me to help her, I’d have to give her away or have her put down.
Believe me, neither of those are desirable options. So, I was extremely delighted when I happened on a workable way of caring for her. It came by surprise one day when she voluntarily walked up to my son Benjamin. He patted her on the head and she responded by moving even closer.
Some time later I needed to move her to a different kennel, but she bolted when I walked toward her. We “played” chase until I was frustrated. Then I remembered how she’d responded to Benjamin. So, I sent him to catch her. Continuing to keep one eye on me, she sat still as Benjamin approached her. He slipped on the leash and led her into the new kennel. Her tail wagged all the way.
I told Benjamin, “She seems to trust you, Son. If you can manage her, you can have her.” He grinned with pleasure. Her tail wagged. I guess she’ll be staying with us after all. She's now responding to His care and we’re all happy to have found a solution, though honestly, I don’t know who is happier—me, Benjamin or Reggie.
Our tussle with Reggie is somewhat like the history of God’s troubles with mankind. Scripture says, “Lastly, the owner of the vineyard said, ‘What shall I do? I will send my son, whom I love; perhaps they will respect him.’ Therefore, God so loved the world that he sent His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”
Some people, like Reggie, live with fear. Working off personally painful experiences they pre-suppose that God may hurt them too. It's sad. They miss so much care and love by standing outside of His reach. The good news is that He's been kind enough to try reaching them via a new way--Jesus, His son. While it is true that not everyone responds to His son, there are, thank God, exceptions to every rule. I hope you are, or someday will be, such an exception…like Reggie, for instance.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
God is Coming
In Malachi 4:1-6, God told the people of Jerusalem that they would be visited. The nation had been brought back from captivity in Babylon/Persia, had rebuilt the temple, and had (in a short time) returned to their old ways. They were showing partiality in judgment and oppressing the widows, orphans, and strangers in their community (2:9; 3:5). They were giving honor to the bad people rather than their faithful God (1:6; 2:17; 3:15). They were violating their covenant with God (2:5,10,11). In fact it is possible that God was the wife of their youth and they were worshipping the female goddess Asherah (2:11,14). God did not want to divorce them but they were leaving little choice.
So God planned to visit them. For the wicked it would be a day of burning judgment (4:1). For the ones who loved God, it would be a day of joy (4:2). They would be like calves let out of the pen and as those who crush the wicked under their feet (4:3). God was coming into the world to bring justice, victory, and peace.
400 years of silence until Jesus came to once again free the captives and defend the oppressed (Luke 4:16-19). Mary, the simple servant, the young child, and the one favored by God was told that her son would be great. She was told that Jesus would have an everlasting kingdom. She was told that this would happen by the power of the Spirit and the overshadowing (visiting) by the power of the Most High God (Luke 1:32-35). The coming of God would bring justice to the oppressed and freedom to the captives. It would also bring judgment on those who spend their lives and energy at the expense of people.
Christmas caroling, bonuses, and wassailing. These were popular methods, during the days of the Puritans, for the poor to have advantage over the rich. As far back as the festival of Saturn (called the Saturnalia in the 3rd century AD) the rich served the poor and the masters served the slaves. Gifts were given to the oppressed and the week of December 25 was a time of equalizing all people. In the colonial days caroling was a form of harassment, by the poor. Our song: “Now bring us a figgy pudding and bring it out now! We won’t go until we get some…” are remnants of this archaic form of harassment. Bonuses are given to employees as a sign of good cheer. In colonial days you gave a bonus to make sure that the little guy didn’t hurt you doing the year. Now we know why Scrooge hated Christmas so much! But the little guy just wanted to be loved, noticed, and honored.
I forget sometimes how deep these traditions run in our practices. We give, we bless, we serve, and we remember during this time of year. While the history of the traditions may be in blackmailing people or harassment—we know that giving and serving are good things to teach our children. So it is with the coming of the Messiah. Jesus came, not only to save us, but also to bring justice. This time of year is not only a time to give, but also a time to reflect. It is a time to remember the poor and continue to remember the poor throughout our lives. Jesus came to bring justice in a land that had forgotten to take it to heart. So this season, we remember that Jesus came to lift up and empower the oppressed, the afflicted, the weak, and the sinner. Those among us who struggle with depression this time of year over the loss of a spouse or loved one, distance from family, divorce, or loss of a job need love, mercy, and justice. Those among us who are without, who feel imprisoned from sin, or who don’t want to face the future need hope that the coming of Jesus brings. Yet—it begins with us. God came to people as a merciful judge. God did not come to condemn but to empower people to love God and our neighbor. Jesus came to turn our hearts to each other and become a community of peace and justice.
Ron Clark
Portland, OR
So God planned to visit them. For the wicked it would be a day of burning judgment (4:1). For the ones who loved God, it would be a day of joy (4:2). They would be like calves let out of the pen and as those who crush the wicked under their feet (4:3). God was coming into the world to bring justice, victory, and peace.
400 years of silence until Jesus came to once again free the captives and defend the oppressed (Luke 4:16-19). Mary, the simple servant, the young child, and the one favored by God was told that her son would be great. She was told that Jesus would have an everlasting kingdom. She was told that this would happen by the power of the Spirit and the overshadowing (visiting) by the power of the Most High God (Luke 1:32-35). The coming of God would bring justice to the oppressed and freedom to the captives. It would also bring judgment on those who spend their lives and energy at the expense of people.
Christmas caroling, bonuses, and wassailing. These were popular methods, during the days of the Puritans, for the poor to have advantage over the rich. As far back as the festival of Saturn (called the Saturnalia in the 3rd century AD) the rich served the poor and the masters served the slaves. Gifts were given to the oppressed and the week of December 25 was a time of equalizing all people. In the colonial days caroling was a form of harassment, by the poor. Our song: “Now bring us a figgy pudding and bring it out now! We won’t go until we get some…” are remnants of this archaic form of harassment. Bonuses are given to employees as a sign of good cheer. In colonial days you gave a bonus to make sure that the little guy didn’t hurt you doing the year. Now we know why Scrooge hated Christmas so much! But the little guy just wanted to be loved, noticed, and honored.
I forget sometimes how deep these traditions run in our practices. We give, we bless, we serve, and we remember during this time of year. While the history of the traditions may be in blackmailing people or harassment—we know that giving and serving are good things to teach our children. So it is with the coming of the Messiah. Jesus came, not only to save us, but also to bring justice. This time of year is not only a time to give, but also a time to reflect. It is a time to remember the poor and continue to remember the poor throughout our lives. Jesus came to bring justice in a land that had forgotten to take it to heart. So this season, we remember that Jesus came to lift up and empower the oppressed, the afflicted, the weak, and the sinner. Those among us who struggle with depression this time of year over the loss of a spouse or loved one, distance from family, divorce, or loss of a job need love, mercy, and justice. Those among us who are without, who feel imprisoned from sin, or who don’t want to face the future need hope that the coming of Jesus brings. Yet—it begins with us. God came to people as a merciful judge. God did not come to condemn but to empower people to love God and our neighbor. Jesus came to turn our hearts to each other and become a community of peace and justice.
Ron Clark
Portland, OR
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Safe
(written by David Underwood; posted by Keith Brenton from David's blog lightandsalt.blogspot.com)
There is a lot of talk in the air lately about being "safe". I am not talking about in the context of the physical world. The circles where I have been hearing it have been in the spiritual context. What is your response when you hear the term "safe" used in that context?
First, I think it is important to acknowledge that being safe in the physical world makes a lot of sense ... in fact it is down right crucial and essential! If you aren't safe, you lose your life and probably endanger the lives of others also. How many of us get steamed when we see someone driving carelessly? How many of you remind your teenager to be safe when they leave the house? Being safe is mandatory ... in the physical world. Simply said, not being safe leads to death in the physical world.
As we all know, things in the spiritual world are all upside down ... topsy turvy. It makes NO sense! If you want to live, you must die. If you want to be first, you must be last. If you want to be the most important, you must be the servant. If you want to be really rich in spirit, you must be poor in spirit. If you want to be strong, you must be weak. Instead of hating your enemies, love them! Would it be safe to say that in the spiritual world, most things are the direct opposite of what we think of in the physical world? The world view vs the spiritual view.
Well, what I want to submit for your consideration is that the same holds true with the concept of being "safe". Yeah, that means "safe" in the spiritual context has the direct opposite consequence from the physical world. Being safe in the spiritual world can kill you, and endanger the spiritual lives of those around you.
And by "Kill you" I mean "to make you ineffective and irrelevant." Have you ever seen someone you considered to be dead spiritually? Ever seen a congregation you considered dead spiritually? My bet is that in both instances you find being "safe" a priority. Are there examples in scripture of people and groups of people who put a priority on being "safe"? Ask Joshua and Caleb about the other 10 wanting to be safe, and the consequences. How long did choosing to be safe cause the Israelites to be ineffective and irrelevant to the world around them?
Without exception, all "safe" choices are made out of FEAR of something. In this spiritual world, fear can only exist as a result of a lack of faith. So yes, the link is that safe choices are made ultimately because of a lack of faith. Let's go back to scripture again and see those who had incredible faith, and the power it gave them over fear and safe choices.
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego and the fire, Daniel and the lions, Hezekiah and facing Sennacherib ... and the list goes on and on. All of them could have made safe choices. Their faith wouldn't allow it. Safe and faith can't coexist. Want to move on to the New Testament? Here we go! I wonder how things might have been different if Joseph had put away Mary, which undoubtedly would have been the safe choice! Peter could have stayed in the boat, Zacchaeus could have stayed home, the blind man in John 9 could have given the Pharisees a safe answer when they had him in their Kangaroo court. Nope, no safe actions by those folks. Their faith motivated them to be bold, in the face of whatever was before them, because they knew God was greater than the thing they might fear.
Ahh ... and then we come to Jesus. (I've been saving the best for last!) First off, I think for sure the safe thing would have been to stay with the Father instead of coming here for us. Jesus was consistent, and from that first choice to his last one, he ALWAYS shunned the safe choice. He chose quite the opposite, really. Not only was he NOT safe, he was the complete oppositehe chose to be RADICAL! We all acknowledge who the folks were who were making the safe choices, like not healing on the sabbath and the likes. The Pharisees wanted to be safe, at all cost. And Jesus drove them crazy! To be more accurate, they hated him for it ... to the point they looked for ways to kill him, and eventually did.
Other examples of Jesus not being safe? Who did he hang out with? How safe was it to pick common fishermen and tax collectors as his leaders? How about choosing Saul? Can you hear that choice being discussed in the Sanhedrin committee meeting? No way would they have chosen him - too risky! He might offend someone - namely them!
And last but not least, thank goodness Jesus wasn't safe when it came to the cross. If he had been, you and I would never know what it would be like to be safe from sin and safe from Satan. We never would have had the chance to experience God's SAVING grace. You see, being radical and bold and acting in faith, instead of fear, is what leads to REALLY being safe ... ain't it a topsy-turvy upside-down spiritual world? Yeah, that is why we feel like aliens here. When we aren't making safe choices, that is. In our walk with him, He NEVER, EVER calls us to be "safe". Why? Because instead of leading to life, it leads to death.
It wasn't a safe walk.
There is a lot of talk in the air lately about being "safe". I am not talking about in the context of the physical world. The circles where I have been hearing it have been in the spiritual context. What is your response when you hear the term "safe" used in that context?
First, I think it is important to acknowledge that being safe in the physical world makes a lot of sense ... in fact it is down right crucial and essential! If you aren't safe, you lose your life and probably endanger the lives of others also. How many of us get steamed when we see someone driving carelessly? How many of you remind your teenager to be safe when they leave the house? Being safe is mandatory ... in the physical world. Simply said, not being safe leads to death in the physical world.
As we all know, things in the spiritual world are all upside down ... topsy turvy. It makes NO sense! If you want to live, you must die. If you want to be first, you must be last. If you want to be the most important, you must be the servant. If you want to be really rich in spirit, you must be poor in spirit. If you want to be strong, you must be weak. Instead of hating your enemies, love them! Would it be safe to say that in the spiritual world, most things are the direct opposite of what we think of in the physical world? The world view vs the spiritual view.
Well, what I want to submit for your consideration is that the same holds true with the concept of being "safe". Yeah, that means "safe" in the spiritual context has the direct opposite consequence from the physical world. Being safe in the spiritual world can kill you, and endanger the spiritual lives of those around you.
And by "Kill you" I mean "to make you ineffective and irrelevant." Have you ever seen someone you considered to be dead spiritually? Ever seen a congregation you considered dead spiritually? My bet is that in both instances you find being "safe" a priority. Are there examples in scripture of people and groups of people who put a priority on being "safe"? Ask Joshua and Caleb about the other 10 wanting to be safe, and the consequences. How long did choosing to be safe cause the Israelites to be ineffective and irrelevant to the world around them?
Without exception, all "safe" choices are made out of FEAR of something. In this spiritual world, fear can only exist as a result of a lack of faith. So yes, the link is that safe choices are made ultimately because of a lack of faith. Let's go back to scripture again and see those who had incredible faith, and the power it gave them over fear and safe choices.
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego and the fire, Daniel and the lions, Hezekiah and facing Sennacherib ... and the list goes on and on. All of them could have made safe choices. Their faith wouldn't allow it. Safe and faith can't coexist. Want to move on to the New Testament? Here we go! I wonder how things might have been different if Joseph had put away Mary, which undoubtedly would have been the safe choice! Peter could have stayed in the boat, Zacchaeus could have stayed home, the blind man in John 9 could have given the Pharisees a safe answer when they had him in their Kangaroo court. Nope, no safe actions by those folks. Their faith motivated them to be bold, in the face of whatever was before them, because they knew God was greater than the thing they might fear.
Ahh ... and then we come to Jesus. (I've been saving the best for last!) First off, I think for sure the safe thing would have been to stay with the Father instead of coming here for us. Jesus was consistent, and from that first choice to his last one, he ALWAYS shunned the safe choice. He chose quite the opposite, really. Not only was he NOT safe, he was the complete oppositehe chose to be RADICAL! We all acknowledge who the folks were who were making the safe choices, like not healing on the sabbath and the likes. The Pharisees wanted to be safe, at all cost. And Jesus drove them crazy! To be more accurate, they hated him for it ... to the point they looked for ways to kill him, and eventually did.
Other examples of Jesus not being safe? Who did he hang out with? How safe was it to pick common fishermen and tax collectors as his leaders? How about choosing Saul? Can you hear that choice being discussed in the Sanhedrin committee meeting? No way would they have chosen him - too risky! He might offend someone - namely them!
And last but not least, thank goodness Jesus wasn't safe when it came to the cross. If he had been, you and I would never know what it would be like to be safe from sin and safe from Satan. We never would have had the chance to experience God's SAVING grace. You see, being radical and bold and acting in faith, instead of fear, is what leads to REALLY being safe ... ain't it a topsy-turvy upside-down spiritual world? Yeah, that is why we feel like aliens here. When we aren't making safe choices, that is. In our walk with him, He NEVER, EVER calls us to be "safe". Why? Because instead of leading to life, it leads to death.
"Whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did". - I John 2:6
It wasn't a safe walk.
David Underwood is an advancement officer at Harding University in Searcy, Arkansas. He is married to Jan, travels a lot in his work, and among his community of Christian blogging friends is known as an indefatigable encourager ... a "Barnabas" of the blogs. E-mail him at [dunderwood@harding.edu].
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Lessons from the Farm:Spiritual Insights from Rural Life
Tension: The transforming of those around us.
"The Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed...when it grows, it...becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches." Matthew 13:31-33
My sons, Benjamin (10) and Joshua (4), and I were exploring the hill behind our house yesterday when we several bearing hickory-nut trees. We all filled our pockets. Benjamin found the one, among hundreds of nuts, that was sprouting. We planted it.
Near the base of our hill he pointed out one tree had grown in a spiral shape. Evidently a vine had clung tightly around it as they grew together. The vine had died and rotted away, leaving the misshaped tree. Another of our trees is a gigantic tulip poplar. Several years ago we had a severe ice storm that left its branches drooping to this day.
Some trees have sentimental value to us. We have a maple that Benjamin planted from a seed and another one that we brought from Grandma and Grandpa’s house in Ohio. There is a sick little pine that I planted the first year we moved here and a couple of hemlocks we transplanted from the creek. Actually, we have lots of tree stories, but the one I want to focus on involves a crooked dogwood near our driveway.
It was laying flat on the ground when I found it. I suppose the dozer pushed it over when cutting our drive, but I found it, and being very fond of dogwoods, propped it up against a large rock at the base and used some rope to keep tension on it at the top. That solid base to bear the weight and the constant tension at the top has turned the tree upright and now it grows straight and on its own.
Now, this gentle, constant, transforming tension has application in other contexts.
It is a metaphor for the people of God in the world. Yes, we are salt. Yes, we are light. We are also a gentle, constant, transforming tension. We are like rope attached to the sapling. Constantly tugging in the right direction. Where ever the tree is bent crooked, it is because in that place, the church let off the tension.
Racism is a twist on God’s gift of diversity. The churches certainly let off the tension and look where we are today.
Immorality is a crooked handling of the blessed design of God for men and women. The church not only relaxed its stand, but applauded and even engaged in the wickedness.
Greed turns the efforts of the weak into the inordinate profits of the strong. Profit is permissible, and he who takes the greater risks deserves the greater rewards, but profit should never be taken at the expense of the weak, the poor, and enslaved. When I draw a dime that costs my employee his health, his family, his faith, then I’ve turned my motive from profit to greed. Christians should be placing tension on such practices.
The list goes on, but you get the point. Why is France on fire? Why is Iraq a war zone? Why is Hollywood producing ever increasingly vulgar ‘entertainment’? Why did some kid just shoot an administrator in my own county’s high school? Because, Christians have been letting off the tension….for a long time. Now, we have a bent, twisted society.
May the Church repent. May she awaken. May she live again in such as way as to effectively apply that gentle, consistent, transforming tension the world so desperately needs.
"The Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed...when it grows, it...becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches." Matthew 13:31-33
My sons, Benjamin (10) and Joshua (4), and I were exploring the hill behind our house yesterday when we several bearing hickory-nut trees. We all filled our pockets. Benjamin found the one, among hundreds of nuts, that was sprouting. We planted it.
Near the base of our hill he pointed out one tree had grown in a spiral shape. Evidently a vine had clung tightly around it as they grew together. The vine had died and rotted away, leaving the misshaped tree. Another of our trees is a gigantic tulip poplar. Several years ago we had a severe ice storm that left its branches drooping to this day.
Some trees have sentimental value to us. We have a maple that Benjamin planted from a seed and another one that we brought from Grandma and Grandpa’s house in Ohio. There is a sick little pine that I planted the first year we moved here and a couple of hemlocks we transplanted from the creek. Actually, we have lots of tree stories, but the one I want to focus on involves a crooked dogwood near our driveway.
It was laying flat on the ground when I found it. I suppose the dozer pushed it over when cutting our drive, but I found it, and being very fond of dogwoods, propped it up against a large rock at the base and used some rope to keep tension on it at the top. That solid base to bear the weight and the constant tension at the top has turned the tree upright and now it grows straight and on its own.
Now, this gentle, constant, transforming tension has application in other contexts.
It is a metaphor for the people of God in the world. Yes, we are salt. Yes, we are light. We are also a gentle, constant, transforming tension. We are like rope attached to the sapling. Constantly tugging in the right direction. Where ever the tree is bent crooked, it is because in that place, the church let off the tension.
Racism is a twist on God’s gift of diversity. The churches certainly let off the tension and look where we are today.
Immorality is a crooked handling of the blessed design of God for men and women. The church not only relaxed its stand, but applauded and even engaged in the wickedness.
Greed turns the efforts of the weak into the inordinate profits of the strong. Profit is permissible, and he who takes the greater risks deserves the greater rewards, but profit should never be taken at the expense of the weak, the poor, and enslaved. When I draw a dime that costs my employee his health, his family, his faith, then I’ve turned my motive from profit to greed. Christians should be placing tension on such practices.
The list goes on, but you get the point. Why is France on fire? Why is Iraq a war zone? Why is Hollywood producing ever increasingly vulgar ‘entertainment’? Why did some kid just shoot an administrator in my own county’s high school? Because, Christians have been letting off the tension….for a long time. Now, we have a bent, twisted society.
May the Church repent. May she awaken. May she live again in such as way as to effectively apply that gentle, consistent, transforming tension the world so desperately needs.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Beyond the Rituals:Letting God Reign in Our Lives
...true stories intended to touch your heart and change your life...
Where did you spend your day? I spent mine on death row.
A friend invited me to a movie shoot at a vacant prison in Nashville. While waiting for props to be set, he took me on tour down a corridor of 20 vacant cells.
Paint hung in massive flakes from ceilings and walls. Asbestos covered pipes. Pigeon roosts dripped with droppings. Graffiti…sketches of demons, swastikas, crosses, roses, homemade calendar systems, dates, poetry and prose remained. Walls…some bare, some dark, some covered with nothing, others with patterns, one with dried feces. Doors…metal, short and narrow hung rusting and heavy on stiff creaking hinges. Gun turrets, guard shacks, bars, metal, concrete, razor wire, electrical fencing, gates and massive locks spoke both of out-of-control men and the expense and energy invested in keeping them at a safe distance from the general public and one another.
It doesn’t take much to imagine the walls' echo of spoken graffiti. Vulgarity the norm. An angry place filled with angry words. A hate filled existence overflowing with hatred for authority, for the ones incarcerated along side, for self, for life and living. A loud place. A sleepless, restless, tormented place. Never silent. Speaking even now, though vacant.
The day’s filming was on death row. The cell numbers counted down 5,4,3,2,1. The last cell shared one wall with the execution chamber. One hundred twenty eight men had been executed in a chair which once sat atop a small raised cement slab in the center of that 10’x10’ room. The ceiling was low. A large vent hood -- its function obvious-- hung directly above the chair. To one side a metal door opened to a smaller chamber housing a large electrical control box, a switch and a dial. Gauges along the front were labeled, “Chest”, “Arms”, “Legs”, “Head”.
I walked along the cells and thought, “What a way to spend your last days…even years.” Tiny 8’x10’ rooms. A bunk. A stainless steel toilet. Bars. The floor. An etched glass window several feet away for some; not even this much light for others. Dark colors, in a dark place, amidst dark souls. “What a way to spend your last days and hours.”
Yet, isn't it where Jesus spent his. Didn’t he come to serve his time with us here on death row? Here, away from heaven’s love and light. Here in the pit of despair, angry words, hatred for God’s authority, for other races, for self, for life and living. A loud place. A sleepless, restless, tormented place. Never silent, with days counting down for each of us 5,4,3,2,1. Didn’t he end his final hours between criminals—those on crosses and those beneath his own? The gasping Chest, pierced Arms, cramping Legs, thorn crowned Head.
He who committed no wrong, took my punishment. I’ve spent my time in darkness. I’ve been, like the others, an object of wrath. I’ve lived where there were demons and darkness. I’ve lived where there were paper crosses and calendars counting meaningless days. I’ve seen my own prison walls, but thank God that when I got to the end of the row, He stepped into my place and I walked free from death.
I'm no longer on death row. Where are you?
Where did you spend your day? I spent mine on death row.
A friend invited me to a movie shoot at a vacant prison in Nashville. While waiting for props to be set, he took me on tour down a corridor of 20 vacant cells.
Paint hung in massive flakes from ceilings and walls. Asbestos covered pipes. Pigeon roosts dripped with droppings. Graffiti…sketches of demons, swastikas, crosses, roses, homemade calendar systems, dates, poetry and prose remained. Walls…some bare, some dark, some covered with nothing, others with patterns, one with dried feces. Doors…metal, short and narrow hung rusting and heavy on stiff creaking hinges. Gun turrets, guard shacks, bars, metal, concrete, razor wire, electrical fencing, gates and massive locks spoke both of out-of-control men and the expense and energy invested in keeping them at a safe distance from the general public and one another.
It doesn’t take much to imagine the walls' echo of spoken graffiti. Vulgarity the norm. An angry place filled with angry words. A hate filled existence overflowing with hatred for authority, for the ones incarcerated along side, for self, for life and living. A loud place. A sleepless, restless, tormented place. Never silent. Speaking even now, though vacant.
The day’s filming was on death row. The cell numbers counted down 5,4,3,2,1. The last cell shared one wall with the execution chamber. One hundred twenty eight men had been executed in a chair which once sat atop a small raised cement slab in the center of that 10’x10’ room. The ceiling was low. A large vent hood -- its function obvious-- hung directly above the chair. To one side a metal door opened to a smaller chamber housing a large electrical control box, a switch and a dial. Gauges along the front were labeled, “Chest”, “Arms”, “Legs”, “Head”.
I walked along the cells and thought, “What a way to spend your last days…even years.” Tiny 8’x10’ rooms. A bunk. A stainless steel toilet. Bars. The floor. An etched glass window several feet away for some; not even this much light for others. Dark colors, in a dark place, amidst dark souls. “What a way to spend your last days and hours.”
Yet, isn't it where Jesus spent his. Didn’t he come to serve his time with us here on death row? Here, away from heaven’s love and light. Here in the pit of despair, angry words, hatred for God’s authority, for other races, for self, for life and living. A loud place. A sleepless, restless, tormented place. Never silent, with days counting down for each of us 5,4,3,2,1. Didn’t he end his final hours between criminals—those on crosses and those beneath his own? The gasping Chest, pierced Arms, cramping Legs, thorn crowned Head.
He who committed no wrong, took my punishment. I’ve spent my time in darkness. I’ve been, like the others, an object of wrath. I’ve lived where there were demons and darkness. I’ve lived where there were paper crosses and calendars counting meaningless days. I’ve seen my own prison walls, but thank God that when I got to the end of the row, He stepped into my place and I walked free from death.
I'm no longer on death row. Where are you?
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Ode to Stella
Stella was our neighbor down the street. The first time we met Stella was at our neighborhood Bible study that started 6 years ago. She was a fiesty older woman who had lived a hard life, with a hard husband, who 15 years ago started back to the local Baptist church. Her husband had Alzheimer's and was pretty tough on her. She came to our study and always had a good way of looking at things. She was full of energy and always put her foot in her mouth, but would apologize afterwards. She loved church, her husband, family, and minister. She had lost a daughter to Pancreatic cancer years ago and saw her struggle with the chemo and side effects. She always said, "I'm never going to take chemo--that stuff will kill yah. When God wants me to go, I will go fightin'."
Stella developed Pancreatic cancer 5 years ago. She chose not to take chemo. We saw her when she was yellow, through the death of her husband, through the ups and downs of the disease, and in prayer. Yet she was always optomistic, always full of energy, and knew that when it was time to go she would continue fighting. She did. We thought she would live for ever because she continually amazed her doctors. Stella passed away Saturday night.
We remember Stella's smile and courage. She took trips with her sisters and spent all of her "retirement money." She bought lots of candy from Nathan and would say, "Hey, I'm gonna die so I don't care about how heavy I am!" She laughed and continued to be upbeat, always asking how we were. She and her sisters kissed the skin off of our two little ones and always threatened to come by and kidnap them for a weekend. When her skin was yellow--she dressed appropriately.
We went to see her on Halloween to say goodbye. Barely 70 pounds she looked at us and smiled. In the bed she smiled when we showed her Caleb and Hunter's costumes. She was always a fighter , a lady, and a great neighbor. She is one of the many people who we have seen struggle with cancer who have been an example of courage and honor in life, suffering, and death.
In a state that talks about dieing with dignity I suggest that I know people who die with true dignity. They face life with courage--irregardless of the pain it brings. They embrace death and show us that life is short--enjoy what you have and bless those around you.
Goodbye Stella, we will love and miss you.
Stella developed Pancreatic cancer 5 years ago. She chose not to take chemo. We saw her when she was yellow, through the death of her husband, through the ups and downs of the disease, and in prayer. Yet she was always optomistic, always full of energy, and knew that when it was time to go she would continue fighting. She did. We thought she would live for ever because she continually amazed her doctors. Stella passed away Saturday night.
We remember Stella's smile and courage. She took trips with her sisters and spent all of her "retirement money." She bought lots of candy from Nathan and would say, "Hey, I'm gonna die so I don't care about how heavy I am!" She laughed and continued to be upbeat, always asking how we were. She and her sisters kissed the skin off of our two little ones and always threatened to come by and kidnap them for a weekend. When her skin was yellow--she dressed appropriately.
We went to see her on Halloween to say goodbye. Barely 70 pounds she looked at us and smiled. In the bed she smiled when we showed her Caleb and Hunter's costumes. She was always a fighter , a lady, and a great neighbor. She is one of the many people who we have seen struggle with cancer who have been an example of courage and honor in life, suffering, and death.
In a state that talks about dieing with dignity I suggest that I know people who die with true dignity. They face life with courage--irregardless of the pain it brings. They embrace death and show us that life is short--enjoy what you have and bless those around you.
Goodbye Stella, we will love and miss you.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Beyond the Rituals:Letting God Reign in Our Lives
When our faith is not rewarded as we expect, how do we respond?
Peter stepped out of the boat and the sea’s surface turned back to liquid. Those who step out on faith often find themselves overwhelmed, doubting, and crying out for help. Not all endings are happy ones, but only such water-walkers experience the firm grip of God on their flailing arm. Such risk and response builds faith like nothing else under heaven. It leads where it took Peter and his friends, “they worshipped Him saying, truly you are the Son of God!” Matthew 14:22-33
The following is my response to the opening question and a true story of faith, His catch, and their worship.
“Chief” was a friend of mine. He eventually became a Christian. We all expected that his political position would add clout and legitimacy to our fledgling church.
In the same village, Kiplagat lived. He was also my friend. Kiplagat and his wife took Donna and me into their home for nine weeks. They fed us, taught us, interpreted for us, and housed us at their own expense. They were the first Christians in the village, and they taught Chief the Gospel. Unlike Chief, Kiplagat wasn't a power broker -- at least that is what we thought.
By God's grace, the church in their village grew. But in its third year certain events brought Chief and Kiplagat to the edge of a tumultuous sea. Both had their faith severely tested.
The events began one evening late in April. It was planting season. Ailing trucks, laden with hybrid maize seed and imported Korean fertilizer, lumbered their way night and day along chipped highways from Mombassa's port to Mt. Elgon's peak. Farmers begged, borrowed, and bartered to scrape together the cash to buy enough of both the commodities to feed their families through the coming year. Some, such as Kiplagat, having planned, sacrificed, and saved for years, withdrew their savings in hopes of planting an extra two or three acres. Perhaps the profits from sales could pay for a three room mud house with a tin roof -- a dream come true.
Transportation, especially into remote areas, is inconsistent. The last public transport vehicle home was revving its engine in warning of eminent departure. Chief and Kiplagat had spent the day in town and Chief planned to stay in the town another night. Kiplagat needed to return to teach school the following day, so he asked Chief to buy his maize seed and fertilizer for him. Chief agreed and would supply the receipts from him next week. Kiplagat would arrange for transportation later. He handed Chief 6000/ Kenyan Shillings -- the equivalent of $250. It was his life's savings. Three days later Chief delivered a receipt.
Kiplagat’s village is remote. The rocky pass into the mountainous oasis doesn’t prohibits casual travel. In three years only two vehicles drove into Kiplagat’s village: one was mine, the other carried armed police. Both ended their journey in front of Kiplagat’s property.
A consortium of seroius-faced policemen marched up to Kiplagat’s main hut. "We have come to jail Chief. We need you to testify against him. Those receipts he gave you are a forgery. He has been making them and cheating people out of their money. You must help us jail him."
Kiplagat delayed his answer by offering his "guests" hot tea; buying time to think. Several cups later they pressed for an answer. He gave them one. "I will not testify against him."
"What?!" They were furious. "We demand your testimony!"
"I am sorry, but I cannot do it."
"Kiplagat, we'll have you put in jail! Now, let's get this thing done!"
"No. Please. I cannot. He is my brother in Christ. I cannot defame the name of Christ by taking revenge on him. It will cause the Church to look badly. I will not do it."
More haranguing followed, but Kiplagat stood his ground.
Fuming, they stomped away. Kiplagat withdrew to lick his financial wounds. He had done what seemed right, but it hurt. His dreams vaporized, never to come true.
Late that evening, with the moon high, and the night alive with sound, Kiplagat and his wife sat in their cooking hut sipping tea. Outside someone called, “Kiplagat.”
"Chief?"
Subdued and whispering, Chief offered, "Kiplagat, Bwana, I want to talk to you."
"Welcome Chief. Come in."
He entered and they talked for a very long time. Chief confessed his wrong, promised to return the money -- which he had already spent -- and in tears thanked Kiplagat for not turning him in to the police.
More than three thousand nights have passed since that evening. Chief still owes on his debt. Oh, he paid a token payment in the form of a few wormy sheep, but he'll never fully repay the debt. Kiplagat has not required him to. The church has grown.
Kiplagat obeyed God, and what did it get him? It cost him his life's savings and his dream house. But, oddly, Kiplagat says it cost him nothing. He says it gained him a friend. He says God used it to strengthened the Church. He says it built his faith. He praises God and he says his temporal losses don’t matter because: "This (pinching up the skin of his forearm) doesn't last forever."
Water solidifies. Walls crumble. Seas divide. Fires don't burn. Water springs from rocks. Quail thrive in the wilderness. Bushes sprout rams. The dead are raised. God does the inconceivable, and when He does we shout "Halelujah!" But when He doesn't, Kiplagat is right....this doesn't last forever. Praise God.
Note to the story: This account was originally written five years ago. Since that time-- fifteen years after the day the police came to his hut--Kiplagat has gotten his three room tin roofed mud house, which is fun for me to report and good to know, but which Kiplagat insists doesn’t matter. (See also Habbakkuk 3.17-19)
Peter stepped out of the boat and the sea’s surface turned back to liquid. Those who step out on faith often find themselves overwhelmed, doubting, and crying out for help. Not all endings are happy ones, but only such water-walkers experience the firm grip of God on their flailing arm. Such risk and response builds faith like nothing else under heaven. It leads where it took Peter and his friends, “they worshipped Him saying, truly you are the Son of God!” Matthew 14:22-33
The following is my response to the opening question and a true story of faith, His catch, and their worship.
“Chief” was a friend of mine. He eventually became a Christian. We all expected that his political position would add clout and legitimacy to our fledgling church.
In the same village, Kiplagat lived. He was also my friend. Kiplagat and his wife took Donna and me into their home for nine weeks. They fed us, taught us, interpreted for us, and housed us at their own expense. They were the first Christians in the village, and they taught Chief the Gospel. Unlike Chief, Kiplagat wasn't a power broker -- at least that is what we thought.
By God's grace, the church in their village grew. But in its third year certain events brought Chief and Kiplagat to the edge of a tumultuous sea. Both had their faith severely tested.
The events began one evening late in April. It was planting season. Ailing trucks, laden with hybrid maize seed and imported Korean fertilizer, lumbered their way night and day along chipped highways from Mombassa's port to Mt. Elgon's peak. Farmers begged, borrowed, and bartered to scrape together the cash to buy enough of both the commodities to feed their families through the coming year. Some, such as Kiplagat, having planned, sacrificed, and saved for years, withdrew their savings in hopes of planting an extra two or three acres. Perhaps the profits from sales could pay for a three room mud house with a tin roof -- a dream come true.
Transportation, especially into remote areas, is inconsistent. The last public transport vehicle home was revving its engine in warning of eminent departure. Chief and Kiplagat had spent the day in town and Chief planned to stay in the town another night. Kiplagat needed to return to teach school the following day, so he asked Chief to buy his maize seed and fertilizer for him. Chief agreed and would supply the receipts from him next week. Kiplagat would arrange for transportation later. He handed Chief 6000/ Kenyan Shillings -- the equivalent of $250. It was his life's savings. Three days later Chief delivered a receipt.
Kiplagat’s village is remote. The rocky pass into the mountainous oasis doesn’t prohibits casual travel. In three years only two vehicles drove into Kiplagat’s village: one was mine, the other carried armed police. Both ended their journey in front of Kiplagat’s property.
A consortium of seroius-faced policemen marched up to Kiplagat’s main hut. "We have come to jail Chief. We need you to testify against him. Those receipts he gave you are a forgery. He has been making them and cheating people out of their money. You must help us jail him."
Kiplagat delayed his answer by offering his "guests" hot tea; buying time to think. Several cups later they pressed for an answer. He gave them one. "I will not testify against him."
"What?!" They were furious. "We demand your testimony!"
"I am sorry, but I cannot do it."
"Kiplagat, we'll have you put in jail! Now, let's get this thing done!"
"No. Please. I cannot. He is my brother in Christ. I cannot defame the name of Christ by taking revenge on him. It will cause the Church to look badly. I will not do it."
More haranguing followed, but Kiplagat stood his ground.
Fuming, they stomped away. Kiplagat withdrew to lick his financial wounds. He had done what seemed right, but it hurt. His dreams vaporized, never to come true.
Late that evening, with the moon high, and the night alive with sound, Kiplagat and his wife sat in their cooking hut sipping tea. Outside someone called, “Kiplagat.”
"Chief?"
Subdued and whispering, Chief offered, "Kiplagat, Bwana, I want to talk to you."
"Welcome Chief. Come in."
He entered and they talked for a very long time. Chief confessed his wrong, promised to return the money -- which he had already spent -- and in tears thanked Kiplagat for not turning him in to the police.
More than three thousand nights have passed since that evening. Chief still owes on his debt. Oh, he paid a token payment in the form of a few wormy sheep, but he'll never fully repay the debt. Kiplagat has not required him to. The church has grown.
Kiplagat obeyed God, and what did it get him? It cost him his life's savings and his dream house. But, oddly, Kiplagat says it cost him nothing. He says it gained him a friend. He says God used it to strengthened the Church. He says it built his faith. He praises God and he says his temporal losses don’t matter because: "This (pinching up the skin of his forearm) doesn't last forever."
Water solidifies. Walls crumble. Seas divide. Fires don't burn. Water springs from rocks. Quail thrive in the wilderness. Bushes sprout rams. The dead are raised. God does the inconceivable, and when He does we shout "Halelujah!" But when He doesn't, Kiplagat is right....this doesn't last forever. Praise God.
Note to the story: This account was originally written five years ago. Since that time-- fifteen years after the day the police came to his hut--Kiplagat has gotten his three room tin roofed mud house, which is fun for me to report and good to know, but which Kiplagat insists doesn’t matter. (See also Habbakkuk 3.17-19)
Monday, October 31, 2005
Asleep At the Wheel: The Gospel of Mark and Polytheism
Polytheism is a word we do not think about to often. The word means “many gods.” The term suggests that an individual believes and worships more than one God or Lord. We do not meet many people who are polytheists, here in America, so most of us understand worship as a one on one relationship with a god or divine being. Balance is a word we do understand. Balance means that everything is equal, in harmony, or in order.
In Mark 4:35-41 Jesus sends the disciples across lake Galilee to the other side, at night, by faith. The lake of Galilee is nestled below a range of hills that, due to their position on the lake, create a wind funnel. The wind will blow violently causing waves which can catch a fisherman, in the middle of the lake, off guard. If he is not ready, it will be a scary experience. I live in Portland, Oregon and we have similar winds that whip down the Columbia River Gorge that can knock anyone off their feet when a quick gust hits in the winter. Fishermen in Galilee were used to this. They expected this. But not at night, in the middle of the lake, when you couldn't see.
Contrary to the movies, the wind and waves were not a hurrican with rain, lightning, thunder, and tornado. What happened was that the qind quickly came, shook the boat, the waves came over the small craft, and then it quickly subsided. Yet this time was different.
Jesus called the disciples to go out over the lake at evening. This was an act of faith. The last place you wanted to be when this wind hit. And even worse, when it hit, Jesus was asleep at the stern (where the control stick was). What was the disciple's response? "Teacher, don't you care that we drown/perish?" Jesus had asked them to do what no fisherman would have done. Jesus had called them to trust him at the helm. It was Jesus' idea to go across the bottomliss lake and saddle up for the Great Adventure! Now he was silent, asleep, still at the helm. Sure--he doesn't care!
And Jesus' response: "Shut up and put a sock in it," (loose Greek translation). Then came the challenge: "Why are you afraid/cowardly? Do you still not have faith?" All the work that Jesus had done meant nothing now that they were scared. All the healing, the parables, the teaching was worthless. "He sleeps, he doesn't care." "He's in control, but he lets us suffer."
In a world of polytheism gods had to be awakened. You can see the struggle that the Jews had with believing in one God even in the language they used. The Hebrew word qum appears all through the Psalms. Rise up, wake up, get up. The belief was that God was way away in the heavens asleep. God had to be awakened to come down and deliver us. Elijah tells the prophets of Baal that their god must be asleep or off in the toilet. "Wake up," meant, "You don't see us," "You don't care about us," "We're here, you're there, we suffur, you don't care." Even though God lived among the people they struggled to see that Yahweh was there among them. Silence did not mean that God didn't care.
But God told a polytheistic society, or one struggling with polytheism, "Just because I am silent doesn't mean I don't care." God sees, God hears, God waits, but God still acts. Jesus sees, Jesus hears, Jesus waits, but Jesus still acts. Have faith, don't be afraid, all obeys Jesus. Jesus still sees, still weeps, still rejoices, still responds, still hears, still loves, and still is in control. Silence doesn't mean God is dead--it means that God waits.
In Mark 4:35-41 Jesus sends the disciples across lake Galilee to the other side, at night, by faith. The lake of Galilee is nestled below a range of hills that, due to their position on the lake, create a wind funnel. The wind will blow violently causing waves which can catch a fisherman, in the middle of the lake, off guard. If he is not ready, it will be a scary experience. I live in Portland, Oregon and we have similar winds that whip down the Columbia River Gorge that can knock anyone off their feet when a quick gust hits in the winter. Fishermen in Galilee were used to this. They expected this. But not at night, in the middle of the lake, when you couldn't see.
Contrary to the movies, the wind and waves were not a hurrican with rain, lightning, thunder, and tornado. What happened was that the qind quickly came, shook the boat, the waves came over the small craft, and then it quickly subsided. Yet this time was different.
Jesus called the disciples to go out over the lake at evening. This was an act of faith. The last place you wanted to be when this wind hit. And even worse, when it hit, Jesus was asleep at the stern (where the control stick was). What was the disciple's response? "Teacher, don't you care that we drown/perish?" Jesus had asked them to do what no fisherman would have done. Jesus had called them to trust him at the helm. It was Jesus' idea to go across the bottomliss lake and saddle up for the Great Adventure! Now he was silent, asleep, still at the helm. Sure--he doesn't care!
And Jesus' response: "Shut up and put a sock in it," (loose Greek translation). Then came the challenge: "Why are you afraid/cowardly? Do you still not have faith?" All the work that Jesus had done meant nothing now that they were scared. All the healing, the parables, the teaching was worthless. "He sleeps, he doesn't care." "He's in control, but he lets us suffer."
In a world of polytheism gods had to be awakened. You can see the struggle that the Jews had with believing in one God even in the language they used. The Hebrew word qum appears all through the Psalms. Rise up, wake up, get up. The belief was that God was way away in the heavens asleep. God had to be awakened to come down and deliver us. Elijah tells the prophets of Baal that their god must be asleep or off in the toilet. "Wake up," meant, "You don't see us," "You don't care about us," "We're here, you're there, we suffur, you don't care." Even though God lived among the people they struggled to see that Yahweh was there among them. Silence did not mean that God didn't care.
But God told a polytheistic society, or one struggling with polytheism, "Just because I am silent doesn't mean I don't care." God sees, God hears, God waits, but God still acts. Jesus sees, Jesus hears, Jesus waits, but Jesus still acts. Have faith, don't be afraid, all obeys Jesus. Jesus still sees, still weeps, still rejoices, still responds, still hears, still loves, and still is in control. Silence doesn't mean God is dead--it means that God waits.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Beyond The Rituals:Letting God Reign in Our Lives
The simple center of God's will can be lost in our complication and sophistication. Maybe this story will clarify matters.
A few days ago I took my four year old son and his plastic tiger into my lap, “Josh, what did we do before you were born?”
To which he readily replied, “Work in the garage.”
“Oh. What kind of work did we do?”
“Paint,” He said.
“Well, what do we do now that you have been born?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “Eat.”
“What do we eat?”
“Spaghetti and eggs..(he paused a second, then added) and cereal.”
He then picked up his toy tiger and ran off to play. That was our conversation. I don’t know what he thought I’d asked, or where his answers came from, but he was confident in there accuracy. I chuckled and thought, "I love that kid."
It was a precious moment. Though Josh won’t recall our talk a decade or even a day from now, I’ll never forget it.
Josh and my conversation may resemble our experience someday before the LORD. All that we now so confidently purport about "God" and "Life" and "Meaning" may be viewed in retrospect as childish, perhaps foolish. In fact, we’ll probably learn we didn’t even understand the questions! Yet, I'm confident that our Father who lives in Heaven will have cherished the conversation nonetheless.
Oh! for a child’s heart, a simple faith, a walk with God.
A few days ago I took my four year old son and his plastic tiger into my lap, “Josh, what did we do before you were born?”
To which he readily replied, “Work in the garage.”
“Oh. What kind of work did we do?”
“Paint,” He said.
“Well, what do we do now that you have been born?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “Eat.”
“What do we eat?”
“Spaghetti and eggs..(he paused a second, then added) and cereal.”
He then picked up his toy tiger and ran off to play. That was our conversation. I don’t know what he thought I’d asked, or where his answers came from, but he was confident in there accuracy. I chuckled and thought, "I love that kid."
It was a precious moment. Though Josh won’t recall our talk a decade or even a day from now, I’ll never forget it.
Josh and my conversation may resemble our experience someday before the LORD. All that we now so confidently purport about "God" and "Life" and "Meaning" may be viewed in retrospect as childish, perhaps foolish. In fact, we’ll probably learn we didn’t even understand the questions! Yet, I'm confident that our Father who lives in Heaven will have cherished the conversation nonetheless.
Oh! for a child’s heart, a simple faith, a walk with God.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
New Site Design
Construction is almost finished.
It's taken a while to put it all together - and it isn't quite all together yet - but the New Wineskins site will soon be moving to its new location at the links available on this page.
Until the database of subscribers and their passwords is moved to the new site, access will be free to all visitors, as I understand it.
There are more articles, more book and movie reviews, more features than previously available online ... and the archives now go back as far as the January-February 2000 issue.
I'll be continuing to add artwork and text to the site and building in new features as time permits. So if you hear some sawing and hammering while you're visiting, that may explain it.
For instance: Not all of the "Writer" listings are in place, nor are the links completed to the "Community," "Culture" and "You" graphics, but they're in process.
Begin your sneak peek by clicking on the "Home" button and enjoy the first two new features of the September - December double issue "In Christ Alone."
And if you run across any knotholes or encounter any unwired outlets, please let me know!
It's taken a while to put it all together - and it isn't quite all together yet - but the New Wineskins site will soon be moving to its new location at the links available on this page.
Until the database of subscribers and their passwords is moved to the new site, access will be free to all visitors, as I understand it.
There are more articles, more book and movie reviews, more features than previously available online ... and the archives now go back as far as the January-February 2000 issue.
I'll be continuing to add artwork and text to the site and building in new features as time permits. So if you hear some sawing and hammering while you're visiting, that may explain it.
For instance: Not all of the "Writer" listings are in place, nor are the links completed to the "Community," "Culture" and "You" graphics, but they're in process.
Begin your sneak peek by clicking on the "Home" button and enjoy the first two new features of the September - December double issue "In Christ Alone."
And if you run across any knotholes or encounter any unwired outlets, please let me know!
Friday, October 07, 2005
Zoe Worship Conference I
If you weren't there, oh man, you missed it. Art, drama, worship, scripture, preaching - Jesus. Let me try to help fill you in.
The best part of the night, bar none, was Donna Hester's incredible drama. She portrayed six women in the genealogy of Jesus from the book of Matthew. Somehow she integrated Rolling Stones music, Jerry Springer, World War II, ironing, hanging clothes out to dry, and a bunvh of stuff with Eve, Ruth, Tamar, Rahab, Bathsheba, and Mary. You will have tears if you get the chance to see it.
Mike Cope retold the Sermon on the Mount in way that could not be legalized.
The worship was strong, moving, and Jesus honoring.
The best part of the night, bar none, was Donna Hester's incredible drama. She portrayed six women in the genealogy of Jesus from the book of Matthew. Somehow she integrated Rolling Stones music, Jerry Springer, World War II, ironing, hanging clothes out to dry, and a bunvh of stuff with Eve, Ruth, Tamar, Rahab, Bathsheba, and Mary. You will have tears if you get the chance to see it.
Mike Cope retold the Sermon on the Mount in way that could not be legalized.
The worship was strong, moving, and Jesus honoring.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Beyond the Rituals:Letting God Reign in Our Lives
...true stories intended to touch your heart and change your life....
LUKIRO--Africa has a huge orphan problem. This is the story of one rescue attempt…
I saw them coming, a herd of Pigpens -- a cloud of rags, dirt, matted hair, and smiles. Gaunt, covered with more dirt than cloth -- little boys at heart, men in experience, beggars by trade. Lukiro and his orphan buddies slept on cardboard or concrete, played in the alleys, dreamed of living in the world of wealth. Yet, leaving the streets would be difficult--if possible at all.
Donna and I decided to launch a rescue effort. I handed Lukiro and his four friends a bar of soap each. Leading them to a cafe. I instructed the owner: "Each evening, if they have clean bodies, feed them whatever they want. Deliver the bill to me." If they managed this modest change, we’d advance to more substantial ones. My plan seemed fool proof -- but it wasn't.
Two weeks later I found the boys, as dirty as ever.
"Why did you stop batheing?" They shrugged and stared at the pavement. Musa, Lukiro's big brother, mumbled, "The big boys stole our soap."
I bought more soap. A shop owner agreed to collect it for safe keeping. Satisfied that the cracks in the dike were plugged, I left my little friends with smiles on their faces.
Still, new leaks sprouted. Obviously, a new approach was necessary. We focused on the candidate most-likely-to-succeed -- Lukiro.
"Lukiro, hop in the car. I want to take you somewhere." His eyes swelled in proportion to his grin. He couldn’t have dreamed what I was up to. He didn't care. It didn't matter. The thrill of a ride through town was more fascinating than where it lead.
We entered the restaurant. I ordered fried rice, green grams, wheat chapatis, potatoes and cabbage in curry, and a mug of fresh cold milk. Lukiro never said a word. He couldn't -- his mouth stayed too full.
Our plates empty and our stomachs bulging, we sipped our milk together. I leaned forward, my heart throbbing. "Lukiro, listen to me. I want to be your father. I want to take care of you. I want to feed you, buy you new clothes, send you to school, get you medicine when you are sick, and protect you from the mean boys on the street."
He sat silently.
"Lukiro, all I ask you to do is come with me. I have already made arrangements. There is room for you. Lukiro, I will take care of you as if you were my own son. Will you come with me and follow my instruction?"
I gave the words time to settle. He silently drank his milk. My mind leapt ahead dreaming of blessing him with a regular allowance, taking him on vacations, telling him of Christ. My heart raced in anticipation of all we would do as a family, but Lukiro's eyes searched the floor. He did not answer.
"It is too much too quick," I supposed. So I gave him time to think. We would meet at the market in two days. The days passed. I waited, but Lukiro never came.
Sometimes, in the night, in the quiet, in my bed I think, "O Lukiro! How warmly would you have rested last night had you only come to me. Never again would you have known hunger, or fear, or meanness, or poverty. I would have shown you goodness, prosperity, kindness, honesty, and love. Lukiro, I had in mind to do so much for you. You break my heart foolish little boy. You break my heart. What can I do now? You will never know all I’d planned for you."
Sometimes, in the night, in the quiet, in my heart, I consider the things God wants to do for me. "For I know the plans I have for you" declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Incredible isn't it? To imagine that The Father of all that is wonderful and delightful lies awake at night thinking and dreaming of what He can do for me. All I must do is what He says.
P.S. If you are interested in an orphan success story and possibly helping it to continue, I recommend “Made in the Streets Ministry” in Nairobi, Kenya. Learn more at www.made-in-the-streets.org or write them directly at coulston@datastreet.com
LUKIRO--Africa has a huge orphan problem. This is the story of one rescue attempt…
I saw them coming, a herd of Pigpens -- a cloud of rags, dirt, matted hair, and smiles. Gaunt, covered with more dirt than cloth -- little boys at heart, men in experience, beggars by trade. Lukiro and his orphan buddies slept on cardboard or concrete, played in the alleys, dreamed of living in the world of wealth. Yet, leaving the streets would be difficult--if possible at all.
Donna and I decided to launch a rescue effort. I handed Lukiro and his four friends a bar of soap each. Leading them to a cafe. I instructed the owner: "Each evening, if they have clean bodies, feed them whatever they want. Deliver the bill to me." If they managed this modest change, we’d advance to more substantial ones. My plan seemed fool proof -- but it wasn't.
Two weeks later I found the boys, as dirty as ever.
"Why did you stop batheing?" They shrugged and stared at the pavement. Musa, Lukiro's big brother, mumbled, "The big boys stole our soap."
I bought more soap. A shop owner agreed to collect it for safe keeping. Satisfied that the cracks in the dike were plugged, I left my little friends with smiles on their faces.
Still, new leaks sprouted. Obviously, a new approach was necessary. We focused on the candidate most-likely-to-succeed -- Lukiro.
"Lukiro, hop in the car. I want to take you somewhere." His eyes swelled in proportion to his grin. He couldn’t have dreamed what I was up to. He didn't care. It didn't matter. The thrill of a ride through town was more fascinating than where it lead.
We entered the restaurant. I ordered fried rice, green grams, wheat chapatis, potatoes and cabbage in curry, and a mug of fresh cold milk. Lukiro never said a word. He couldn't -- his mouth stayed too full.
Our plates empty and our stomachs bulging, we sipped our milk together. I leaned forward, my heart throbbing. "Lukiro, listen to me. I want to be your father. I want to take care of you. I want to feed you, buy you new clothes, send you to school, get you medicine when you are sick, and protect you from the mean boys on the street."
He sat silently.
"Lukiro, all I ask you to do is come with me. I have already made arrangements. There is room for you. Lukiro, I will take care of you as if you were my own son. Will you come with me and follow my instruction?"
I gave the words time to settle. He silently drank his milk. My mind leapt ahead dreaming of blessing him with a regular allowance, taking him on vacations, telling him of Christ. My heart raced in anticipation of all we would do as a family, but Lukiro's eyes searched the floor. He did not answer.
"It is too much too quick," I supposed. So I gave him time to think. We would meet at the market in two days. The days passed. I waited, but Lukiro never came.
Sometimes, in the night, in the quiet, in my bed I think, "O Lukiro! How warmly would you have rested last night had you only come to me. Never again would you have known hunger, or fear, or meanness, or poverty. I would have shown you goodness, prosperity, kindness, honesty, and love. Lukiro, I had in mind to do so much for you. You break my heart foolish little boy. You break my heart. What can I do now? You will never know all I’d planned for you."
Sometimes, in the night, in the quiet, in my heart, I consider the things God wants to do for me. "For I know the plans I have for you" declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Incredible isn't it? To imagine that The Father of all that is wonderful and delightful lies awake at night thinking and dreaming of what He can do for me. All I must do is what He says.
P.S. If you are interested in an orphan success story and possibly helping it to continue, I recommend “Made in the Streets Ministry” in Nairobi, Kenya. Learn more at www.made-in-the-streets.org or write them directly at coulston@datastreet.com
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Beyond the Rituals:Letting God Reign in Our Lives
Strays on the Porch:Its Direction not Perfection that Counts
Today I laughed so hard I cried.
Around mid-morning I visited Sanford. He was on the porch, with his seven (I counted them.) dogs. He loves his dogs. They are all strays, but he cares for them. He’s got a tender heart that way.
Sanford has come a long way since I first met him ten years ago at his sixty-third birthday party. He kept then, as he does now, a gray stubble of whiskers and wears a ball cap. He was wearing his hat that day, and dancing as his guests cheered him on. I thought he would surely fall and hurt himself. He never did, although he was drunker than anyone I’ve ever seen in my life. But that was then and today Sanford is sober. I like him, a lot.
Today, we had coffee together. He makes instant coffee. Terrible stuff. Out of his kindness, he even bought some creamer for me. It helps, but not enough. Today, I loaded the cup with creamer and we talked. That’s when he started telling me about his neighbor’s teenage son. That’s when I laughed so hard.
“I tell you,” he began, “That’s the awfullest sight (speaking of the boy) I ever saw. That kid beats it all. He’ll break anything. Why, he drove the riding lawn mower into the mailbox the other day and knocked it plum over!”
I chuckled because I’d heard others tell of the boy’s recklessness.
“Then his mommy got on it and mowed. I was watching when the kid got off the mower. He walked straight over there and got the push mower. You know what he done? He no sooner had it started than he pushed that thing right up over the metal meter box--and it a good 4 or 5 inches above the ground level! Warped the shaft on that mower. I’d say ruined it for good.”
The way he was telling it, I was ear to ear grins at this point and had a little tearing at the corners. I think this added fuel to his flame, because he become more animated, even standing up, and continued with enthusiasm.
“You won’t believe me, but sure ‘nuff that kid come over here and asked to use MY mower! Course, I let him have it and he pushed that thing directly (pronounced DIE-wreck-tly) over to that chunk of cement sticking up out of the ground over yonder and ran my mower up over it! Don't believe me? Look. Over there lay the bent blade. Warped the shaft on my mower too.”
More tears and side holding.
“Guess you heard (pronounced hear-d) about his driving? The first week his folks gave him that Toyota, the kid drove it to school and hit a parked car! The very first day! Well, they got it fixed for him, you know. The next week he drove the Toyota with the oil light on till it overheated and froze the motor plum up. Just ruined it! I tell you, the kid would tear up an anvil just to keep from having to work.”
(Beats me what the work ethic comment had to do with anything, but the exageration about tearing up the anvil sent me rolling.)
I know this boy. In his defence, he’s a good kid, but it does seem that accidents find him. For example, this summer he drove by a short term mission group we were hosting. To his credit, he was moving at a snail’s pace, but being a little on the short side he had to strain to see over the dash. He was stretching his neck to full extention, making sure he was clearing our vehicles parked along the narrow side road when suddenly the rear end of his truck lifted about three feet off the ground! Though he’d avoided our vehicles, he’d not seen the place along his side of the road where recent rains had eaten away the edge of the pavement. His tire had plunged into the hole. The sudden drop and stop lifted the back of the pickup into the air.
Stunned and panicked, he jumped from the car, “Oh no! My Dad is going to kill me!” he said. “Why do these things always happen to me?!”
I consoled, "I’ll talk to your dad and vouch for your having been trying to be careful. That hole was hard to see, and its hard driving around all these vehicles parked along here.”
We pulled him free with another truck and he was soon on his way. After talking with Sanford today, I now understand the boy's comment about “things” happening to him.
Do any of you feel a little like this young man: like you can’t seem to get the ‘christian-thing’ right? Deep inside, being honest with yourself, do fear that when your Heavenly Dad finds out, He is going to kill you?!
Hey, all of us have fallen short of God’s ideals, but listen: Jesus goes to the Father on our behalf saying, “I’ll vouch for him. He was trying, and it’s hard living around all those temptations down there.”
The question He has for us is just one, “Are you trying with your whole heart?”
If so, then I imagine we’ll one day find a place on God’s porch where all we strays are welcomed and loved and where we’ll enjoy hearty laughter for eternity. I hope Sanford is there. I'm sure his coffee won't be.
"But now a different way of being right with God, apart from perfect obedience to law, is available to us. We are made right in God's sight by relying on Jesus. For all of us have failed to perfectly obey God's standards. Yet God, in His gracious kindness, declares, 'Everything is okay', because Jesus has spoken for us and worked it out with Our Father." --Romans 3:21-25 (paraphrase mine)
Today I laughed so hard I cried.
Around mid-morning I visited Sanford. He was on the porch, with his seven (I counted them.) dogs. He loves his dogs. They are all strays, but he cares for them. He’s got a tender heart that way.
Sanford has come a long way since I first met him ten years ago at his sixty-third birthday party. He kept then, as he does now, a gray stubble of whiskers and wears a ball cap. He was wearing his hat that day, and dancing as his guests cheered him on. I thought he would surely fall and hurt himself. He never did, although he was drunker than anyone I’ve ever seen in my life. But that was then and today Sanford is sober. I like him, a lot.
Today, we had coffee together. He makes instant coffee. Terrible stuff. Out of his kindness, he even bought some creamer for me. It helps, but not enough. Today, I loaded the cup with creamer and we talked. That’s when he started telling me about his neighbor’s teenage son. That’s when I laughed so hard.
“I tell you,” he began, “That’s the awfullest sight (speaking of the boy) I ever saw. That kid beats it all. He’ll break anything. Why, he drove the riding lawn mower into the mailbox the other day and knocked it plum over!”
I chuckled because I’d heard others tell of the boy’s recklessness.
“Then his mommy got on it and mowed. I was watching when the kid got off the mower. He walked straight over there and got the push mower. You know what he done? He no sooner had it started than he pushed that thing right up over the metal meter box--and it a good 4 or 5 inches above the ground level! Warped the shaft on that mower. I’d say ruined it for good.”
The way he was telling it, I was ear to ear grins at this point and had a little tearing at the corners. I think this added fuel to his flame, because he become more animated, even standing up, and continued with enthusiasm.
“You won’t believe me, but sure ‘nuff that kid come over here and asked to use MY mower! Course, I let him have it and he pushed that thing directly (pronounced DIE-wreck-tly) over to that chunk of cement sticking up out of the ground over yonder and ran my mower up over it! Don't believe me? Look. Over there lay the bent blade. Warped the shaft on my mower too.”
More tears and side holding.
“Guess you heard (pronounced hear-d) about his driving? The first week his folks gave him that Toyota, the kid drove it to school and hit a parked car! The very first day! Well, they got it fixed for him, you know. The next week he drove the Toyota with the oil light on till it overheated and froze the motor plum up. Just ruined it! I tell you, the kid would tear up an anvil just to keep from having to work.”
(Beats me what the work ethic comment had to do with anything, but the exageration about tearing up the anvil sent me rolling.)
I know this boy. In his defence, he’s a good kid, but it does seem that accidents find him. For example, this summer he drove by a short term mission group we were hosting. To his credit, he was moving at a snail’s pace, but being a little on the short side he had to strain to see over the dash. He was stretching his neck to full extention, making sure he was clearing our vehicles parked along the narrow side road when suddenly the rear end of his truck lifted about three feet off the ground! Though he’d avoided our vehicles, he’d not seen the place along his side of the road where recent rains had eaten away the edge of the pavement. His tire had plunged into the hole. The sudden drop and stop lifted the back of the pickup into the air.
Stunned and panicked, he jumped from the car, “Oh no! My Dad is going to kill me!” he said. “Why do these things always happen to me?!”
I consoled, "I’ll talk to your dad and vouch for your having been trying to be careful. That hole was hard to see, and its hard driving around all these vehicles parked along here.”
We pulled him free with another truck and he was soon on his way. After talking with Sanford today, I now understand the boy's comment about “things” happening to him.
Do any of you feel a little like this young man: like you can’t seem to get the ‘christian-thing’ right? Deep inside, being honest with yourself, do fear that when your Heavenly Dad finds out, He is going to kill you?!
Hey, all of us have fallen short of God’s ideals, but listen: Jesus goes to the Father on our behalf saying, “I’ll vouch for him. He was trying, and it’s hard living around all those temptations down there.”
The question He has for us is just one, “Are you trying with your whole heart?”
If so, then I imagine we’ll one day find a place on God’s porch where all we strays are welcomed and loved and where we’ll enjoy hearty laughter for eternity. I hope Sanford is there. I'm sure his coffee won't be.
"But now a different way of being right with God, apart from perfect obedience to law, is available to us. We are made right in God's sight by relying on Jesus. For all of us have failed to perfectly obey God's standards. Yet God, in His gracious kindness, declares, 'Everything is okay', because Jesus has spoken for us and worked it out with Our Father." --Romans 3:21-25 (paraphrase mine)
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Beyond the Rituals:Letting God Reign in Our Lives
The Metronome: Rhythm for Life
Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” –Hebrews 13:8
I like music, but I don’t like all music--especially what I call, “Idiot-Music”.
I know. I know. I’m supposed to be “Open minded. Flexible. A creative thinker etc.”, but the fact is I don’t like music that is chaotic, scrambled, rhythm less, haphazard. I like order. Music, true music, has a beat that is orderly. Random screaming lacks order and it bespeaks a problem….with the ‘musician’.
The metronome is a wonderful little device that some of these chaos-musicians (oxymoron), need to discover. If you aren’t a musician you may not know that the metronome is a rhythm keeping device. It tocks at a consistent rate. No matter whether the musician plays too fast or too slow, the metronome remains the same.
This morning the sun rose at our place around 6:40 a.m. The fog was heavy, only allowing a brief glow from the sun. Then, the curtain closed and the sunrise was cloaked beneath the foggy blanket. Though I didn’t see it clearly, I know the sun rose fully. It does so consistently.
The Fall season is coming. Though warmish still, weather in Tennessee is gradually cooling and nights are stretching. It will be freezing by January or February. Benjamin, my 10 year old, asked me when it would snow this year. I took a shot at, "Between Thanksgiving and Christmas." Though guessing about this year's first snow I am solidly confident that it will not snow here next June. I’m confident because a summer-snow is not the pattern of nature. Nature is more consistent than that.
Life itself has a flow that is regular: day-night, wake-sleep, birth-death, generation-generation, body-spirit. Consistency is, I believe, a virtue. It is, after all one of God’s character qualities—therefore, it has to be a virtue. As such, we should desire it.
Jesus is “the same” yesterday, today and forever. Autos is the Greek word. It is translated “he, she, it, himself, herself, itself, the same one”. Jesus is autos. He is himself yesterday, today and forever. He is the same one today as he was yesterday and as he will be tomorrow. He is unchanged. He is consistent.
“I, the LORD, do not change” (Malachi 3:6). The Hebrew word means ‘do again, disguise, pretend, change’. God is saying that He is who he is and isn’t fooling us. What we see is what we do and will get-- no pretending, no presenting himself again differently.
When the guards came to arrest Jesus he said, “I am he.” He went on to explain, “I taught in your temple. Why do you come out to me with spears?” Inferring, “I have always been a peaceful, law abiding citizen, why would I be any different now?” He was and is consistent.
God is consistent. Christians should be consistent. I know we aren’t (can’t be) perfect, but we can become, or at least persistent in our pursuit of becoming, consistent. The New Life, if relegated to occasional rituals (Sunday meetings, Easter holy-days, Meal-time prayers, daily devotional rituals etal), is out of sinc with God’s metronome. That’s why it produces a sense of tension, interruption, frustration, and fatigue. It’s like Idiot Music that no one likes-- except wierd, out-of-sinc people like Big-Haired TV Evangelist types, and empty women who get warm fuzzies from doing ‘church stuff’, or from being into whatever is currently ‘Sooooo wonderful!’. (Please understand what I mean by those comparisons and what I DON’T mean.)
The New Life, to make my point, is non-compartmentalized. It’s 24/7. It goes on at all times. It is at the store, the job, weekends, when you buy things, when you are listening, watching, reading, writing, talking. It is yesterday, today and forever. Tock, tock, tock, tock like a metronome.
Let’s begin to pray that we can get in, and stay in, rhythm with God. The music will be delightful….. and sane.
Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” –Hebrews 13:8
I like music, but I don’t like all music--especially what I call, “Idiot-Music”.
I know. I know. I’m supposed to be “Open minded. Flexible. A creative thinker etc.”, but the fact is I don’t like music that is chaotic, scrambled, rhythm less, haphazard. I like order. Music, true music, has a beat that is orderly. Random screaming lacks order and it bespeaks a problem….with the ‘musician’.
The metronome is a wonderful little device that some of these chaos-musicians (oxymoron), need to discover. If you aren’t a musician you may not know that the metronome is a rhythm keeping device. It tocks at a consistent rate. No matter whether the musician plays too fast or too slow, the metronome remains the same.
This morning the sun rose at our place around 6:40 a.m. The fog was heavy, only allowing a brief glow from the sun. Then, the curtain closed and the sunrise was cloaked beneath the foggy blanket. Though I didn’t see it clearly, I know the sun rose fully. It does so consistently.
The Fall season is coming. Though warmish still, weather in Tennessee is gradually cooling and nights are stretching. It will be freezing by January or February. Benjamin, my 10 year old, asked me when it would snow this year. I took a shot at, "Between Thanksgiving and Christmas." Though guessing about this year's first snow I am solidly confident that it will not snow here next June. I’m confident because a summer-snow is not the pattern of nature. Nature is more consistent than that.
Life itself has a flow that is regular: day-night, wake-sleep, birth-death, generation-generation, body-spirit. Consistency is, I believe, a virtue. It is, after all one of God’s character qualities—therefore, it has to be a virtue. As such, we should desire it.
Jesus is “the same” yesterday, today and forever. Autos is the Greek word. It is translated “he, she, it, himself, herself, itself, the same one”. Jesus is autos. He is himself yesterday, today and forever. He is the same one today as he was yesterday and as he will be tomorrow. He is unchanged. He is consistent.
“I, the LORD, do not change” (Malachi 3:6). The Hebrew word means ‘do again, disguise, pretend, change’. God is saying that He is who he is and isn’t fooling us. What we see is what we do and will get-- no pretending, no presenting himself again differently.
When the guards came to arrest Jesus he said, “I am he.” He went on to explain, “I taught in your temple. Why do you come out to me with spears?” Inferring, “I have always been a peaceful, law abiding citizen, why would I be any different now?” He was and is consistent.
God is consistent. Christians should be consistent. I know we aren’t (can’t be) perfect, but we can become, or at least persistent in our pursuit of becoming, consistent. The New Life, if relegated to occasional rituals (Sunday meetings, Easter holy-days, Meal-time prayers, daily devotional rituals etal), is out of sinc with God’s metronome. That’s why it produces a sense of tension, interruption, frustration, and fatigue. It’s like Idiot Music that no one likes-- except wierd, out-of-sinc people like Big-Haired TV Evangelist types, and empty women who get warm fuzzies from doing ‘church stuff’, or from being into whatever is currently ‘Sooooo wonderful!’. (Please understand what I mean by those comparisons and what I DON’T mean.)
The New Life, to make my point, is non-compartmentalized. It’s 24/7. It goes on at all times. It is at the store, the job, weekends, when you buy things, when you are listening, watching, reading, writing, talking. It is yesterday, today and forever. Tock, tock, tock, tock like a metronome.
Let’s begin to pray that we can get in, and stay in, rhythm with God. The music will be delightful….. and sane.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Speak Where The Bible Speaks...
"Speak where the Bible Speaks and be silent where the Bible is silent."
I was out for a jog this morning when this quote entered my mind. I have heard this sentence since I was a boy and thought it to be good. This morning, I didn't like it.
Not liking this mantra that I have been immersed in for many years did not come bring any sense of relief or comfort. In fact, my not liking this quote disrtupted my comfort. I have counted on this one for years. It was sure. It was safe. It was right. And if it wasn't right, nothing else seemed righter (righter?).
However, my discomfort did not lead me back to embracing this quote full on, but rather left me treading water.
OK, let's take a look at the quote and see what the good and the troubling parts of it are.
Good:
1. Safe Bet. If you want to say that what is in the Bible is God's Word, then this quote is safe. If that's all you want to say.
2. Consumable. There is next to no one who cannot understand and digest this simple sentence. Its simplicity is really quite genius. It almost sounds like a Rick Warren slogan.
3. Clear. Its clarity is remarkable. There is no gray area whatsoever. It is so easy to do, at least it is so easy to believe you're doing it. There is only one variable with which to deal.
4. Comfortable. It provides a very settled feeling. There is no more work or discernment that needs ot be done. All of that struggling and wrestling is taken care of. There is so much that does not even have to be thought about.
I am sure there is other good to it, but we'll leave it at that.
Trouble:
1. Reductionistic. Even though Jesus said, in the Bible, "I am with you always, even to the end of the age," and even though Jesus said, in the Bible, "I will send the Comforter," and many other things, "Speak where the Bible speaks..." does not allow for the ever present Jesus, the Counselor (Holy Spirit as I understand the passage) to tell us anything besides, "read the Bible." This quote has effectively muted God for just under 2000 years.
2. Not Biblical. No where in the Bible does it say that the Bible is all there is to God's Word. Oh sure, someone is going pull out, "do not add or take away...," but to say that means the Bible is the sum of God's Word and God does not, will not, and cannot speak in any other way is such a ridiculous stretch of scripture that it would be speaking where the Bible does not speak.
3. Who's been talking to me? I believe God has spoken to me. I'm not one of those people who gets to hear the audible voice of God. I probably don't enough faith to hear it an live. However, I have heard God speak in dreams, in "coincidence," in wise words from friends the people I trust, in circumstance, in emotion, in thought. I have had instance when I spoke words of insight and wisdom to people that I was in no way capable of on my own. I wondered where that came from. Did God speak through me, or am I just that smart? If you know me and heard what I said, it would be easy to understand that it was God and not me.
4. Why pray? If God is done talking, then he's done answering prayer. There is no need to pray, just read the Bible. If it's all in there, then what's the point in praying? God's just going to point his finger at the Bible anyway.
5. Inhibits Growth. A people without struggle is a people without growth. When making sense of life, the Bible is helpful, but it is not all there is. In a way, the Bible can get in between a person and God. I am not saying it is wrong, but I am saying that God wants us to love Him more than anything else.
6. Promotes idol worship. That got your attention. :-) The Bible is one of God's creations, ranking in the top 5 of all things created, but any created thing getting between a person and God or viewed by a person as being in the place of God is, in fact, an enemy to God. We make an idol of one of God's creations, the Bible.
7. Return to the Old Law. If we cannot engage with the living God directly, then the Bible isn't true. Jesus came to "tear down the curtain," (a thing separating God and humanity) and make the Holy of Holies available to us all. If we have to funnel all interactions, relationship, and everything through the Bible, then the Bible itself becomes the curtain Jesus came to remove. Although Jesus tore the curtain, we got our sewing kits out an repaired it.
I'll stop there, although I could go on. My point is this: The Bible is some of God's word. It isn't pretty and it is isn't even safe. But "safe, who said anything about safe?"
I was out for a jog this morning when this quote entered my mind. I have heard this sentence since I was a boy and thought it to be good. This morning, I didn't like it.
Not liking this mantra that I have been immersed in for many years did not come bring any sense of relief or comfort. In fact, my not liking this quote disrtupted my comfort. I have counted on this one for years. It was sure. It was safe. It was right. And if it wasn't right, nothing else seemed righter (righter?).
However, my discomfort did not lead me back to embracing this quote full on, but rather left me treading water.
OK, let's take a look at the quote and see what the good and the troubling parts of it are.
Good:
1. Safe Bet. If you want to say that what is in the Bible is God's Word, then this quote is safe. If that's all you want to say.
2. Consumable. There is next to no one who cannot understand and digest this simple sentence. Its simplicity is really quite genius. It almost sounds like a Rick Warren slogan.
3. Clear. Its clarity is remarkable. There is no gray area whatsoever. It is so easy to do, at least it is so easy to believe you're doing it. There is only one variable with which to deal.
4. Comfortable. It provides a very settled feeling. There is no more work or discernment that needs ot be done. All of that struggling and wrestling is taken care of. There is so much that does not even have to be thought about.
I am sure there is other good to it, but we'll leave it at that.
Trouble:
1. Reductionistic. Even though Jesus said, in the Bible, "I am with you always, even to the end of the age," and even though Jesus said, in the Bible, "I will send the Comforter," and many other things, "Speak where the Bible speaks..." does not allow for the ever present Jesus, the Counselor (Holy Spirit as I understand the passage) to tell us anything besides, "read the Bible." This quote has effectively muted God for just under 2000 years.
2. Not Biblical. No where in the Bible does it say that the Bible is all there is to God's Word. Oh sure, someone is going pull out, "do not add or take away...," but to say that means the Bible is the sum of God's Word and God does not, will not, and cannot speak in any other way is such a ridiculous stretch of scripture that it would be speaking where the Bible does not speak.
3. Who's been talking to me? I believe God has spoken to me. I'm not one of those people who gets to hear the audible voice of God. I probably don't enough faith to hear it an live. However, I have heard God speak in dreams, in "coincidence," in wise words from friends the people I trust, in circumstance, in emotion, in thought. I have had instance when I spoke words of insight and wisdom to people that I was in no way capable of on my own. I wondered where that came from. Did God speak through me, or am I just that smart? If you know me and heard what I said, it would be easy to understand that it was God and not me.
4. Why pray? If God is done talking, then he's done answering prayer. There is no need to pray, just read the Bible. If it's all in there, then what's the point in praying? God's just going to point his finger at the Bible anyway.
5. Inhibits Growth. A people without struggle is a people without growth. When making sense of life, the Bible is helpful, but it is not all there is. In a way, the Bible can get in between a person and God. I am not saying it is wrong, but I am saying that God wants us to love Him more than anything else.
6. Promotes idol worship. That got your attention. :-) The Bible is one of God's creations, ranking in the top 5 of all things created, but any created thing getting between a person and God or viewed by a person as being in the place of God is, in fact, an enemy to God. We make an idol of one of God's creations, the Bible.
7. Return to the Old Law. If we cannot engage with the living God directly, then the Bible isn't true. Jesus came to "tear down the curtain," (a thing separating God and humanity) and make the Holy of Holies available to us all. If we have to funnel all interactions, relationship, and everything through the Bible, then the Bible itself becomes the curtain Jesus came to remove. Although Jesus tore the curtain, we got our sewing kits out an repaired it.
I'll stop there, although I could go on. My point is this: The Bible is some of God's word. It isn't pretty and it is isn't even safe. But "safe, who said anything about safe?"
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Supersize or Downsize My Christian Life
The Gospel of Mark and Polytheism: Supersize or Downsize Me?
By Ron Clark, Portland, OR
Polytheism is a word we do not think about to often. The word means “many gods.” The term suggests that an individual believes and worships more than one God or Lord. We do not meet many people who are polytheists, here in America, so most of us understand worship as a one on one relationship with a god or divine being. Balance is a word we do understand. Balance means that everything is equal, in harmony, or in order.
When Jesus called his disciples he called working men. Peter and Anderew were fishing and he call ed them to follow him (Mark 1:14-18). They dropped their nets. James and John were sewing/fixing their torn nets after a night of fishing. They dropped their nets (Mark 1:19-20). Matthew was working collecting taxes (Mark 2:13-14). He abandoned his calculator (maybe without even turning it off).
I remember when I was converted I was taught that these verses showed us that "Jesus calls working people." If you want something done, get someone who is busy. If you ask a busy person to do it, they will find the time and do it quickly. If someone has the time, they will not follow Jesus. If they are not working, they will not be spiritual. 20% of the people in the church do 80% of the work. This was my philosophy when I became a Christian. This was my ethic.
Then I began to study with people, baptize people, and help Christians heal and return to the front line. I found out something. 20% of the people do 80% of the work because we only ask the same 20% to work. We assume that the 80% may not work so we don't find something for them to do--unlike the guy in Matthew who invited everyone to work in the vineyard. I also found that the 20% were already maxed out--but worked on adrenaline and guilt. I am a recovering adrenalinaholic and guilt user (well not really--still struggling with addiction). Yet I continued to use the 20% and ask them over and over again to work. This, in spite of the fact that I was needing to learn to set boundaries and say "No to Adrenaline and Guilt Drugs." Then I began to hear from people that they didn't have time for God. That they were burned out. That they were tired and empty in their spirituality. My solution--"Jesus called working people--work it out." There we go, drive old Satan away--idle hands and idle minds are the devil's workshops.
In a world of polythesim worshipping many gods was very complex. Life was about balance and keeping everything and every god happy. Worshippers lived somewhat in fear and tried to keep many plates (gods) in their favor. The call to monotheism (one god) was both risky and more simpler. To follow one god meant that you risked ticking all the other gods off. But it provided a sense of peace and rest. One god meant that everything you needed came from one source. It was sort of Walmart god (one stop shopping). When Yahweh tells Israel that they were to be completely devoted to Him it was not one more thing to do--it was the only thing to do. When Jesus called the disciples to follow him, it made their life less complicated. One God and one Lord did not "supersize" or "complicate" one's life. It downsized it. God was not trying to make our lives more complicated, He was trying to make them simpler. Jesus was not piling another plate on a crowded schedule, he was calling them to downsize.
The call to follow Jesus is a chance to downsize, rest, and put things into perspective. The call to follow Jesus is not meant to make us "busier," "stressed out," or "adrenaline junkies." The call was not even meant to make guilty people guiltier. It was and is meant to give us peace. Maybe that is what it means to "repent and believe the good news" (Mark 1:15).
What think ye?
By Ron Clark, Portland, OR
Polytheism is a word we do not think about to often. The word means “many gods.” The term suggests that an individual believes and worships more than one God or Lord. We do not meet many people who are polytheists, here in America, so most of us understand worship as a one on one relationship with a god or divine being. Balance is a word we do understand. Balance means that everything is equal, in harmony, or in order.
When Jesus called his disciples he called working men. Peter and Anderew were fishing and he call ed them to follow him (Mark 1:14-18). They dropped their nets. James and John were sewing/fixing their torn nets after a night of fishing. They dropped their nets (Mark 1:19-20). Matthew was working collecting taxes (Mark 2:13-14). He abandoned his calculator (maybe without even turning it off).
I remember when I was converted I was taught that these verses showed us that "Jesus calls working people." If you want something done, get someone who is busy. If you ask a busy person to do it, they will find the time and do it quickly. If someone has the time, they will not follow Jesus. If they are not working, they will not be spiritual. 20% of the people in the church do 80% of the work. This was my philosophy when I became a Christian. This was my ethic.
Then I began to study with people, baptize people, and help Christians heal and return to the front line. I found out something. 20% of the people do 80% of the work because we only ask the same 20% to work. We assume that the 80% may not work so we don't find something for them to do--unlike the guy in Matthew who invited everyone to work in the vineyard. I also found that the 20% were already maxed out--but worked on adrenaline and guilt. I am a recovering adrenalinaholic and guilt user (well not really--still struggling with addiction). Yet I continued to use the 20% and ask them over and over again to work. This, in spite of the fact that I was needing to learn to set boundaries and say "No to Adrenaline and Guilt Drugs." Then I began to hear from people that they didn't have time for God. That they were burned out. That they were tired and empty in their spirituality. My solution--"Jesus called working people--work it out." There we go, drive old Satan away--idle hands and idle minds are the devil's workshops.
In a world of polythesim worshipping many gods was very complex. Life was about balance and keeping everything and every god happy. Worshippers lived somewhat in fear and tried to keep many plates (gods) in their favor. The call to monotheism (one god) was both risky and more simpler. To follow one god meant that you risked ticking all the other gods off. But it provided a sense of peace and rest. One god meant that everything you needed came from one source. It was sort of Walmart god (one stop shopping). When Yahweh tells Israel that they were to be completely devoted to Him it was not one more thing to do--it was the only thing to do. When Jesus called the disciples to follow him, it made their life less complicated. One God and one Lord did not "supersize" or "complicate" one's life. It downsized it. God was not trying to make our lives more complicated, He was trying to make them simpler. Jesus was not piling another plate on a crowded schedule, he was calling them to downsize.
The call to follow Jesus is a chance to downsize, rest, and put things into perspective. The call to follow Jesus is not meant to make us "busier," "stressed out," or "adrenaline junkies." The call was not even meant to make guilty people guiltier. It was and is meant to give us peace. Maybe that is what it means to "repent and believe the good news" (Mark 1:15).
What think ye?
Monday, September 19, 2005
Beyond the Rituals:Letting God Reign in Our Lives
“The Development of Faith is Frightening.”
By
Stephen Meeks
The scent of acacia pollen is bittersweet and strong in the early morning. That’s when they begin -- in the early morning.
Smoke rising from cooking fires snakes its way through thatched roofs and strikes at the dawn. It is the beginning of an African day, and they are turning boys into men.
Frightened fifteen and sixteen year olds, naked and shivering, smeared with mud, stand at attention. Today they are to become murenik (men/warriors), and join their Fathers on the distant side of an invisible bridge.
The chasm of transition from boyhood to manhood is intimidating. Young hearts approach the chasm's edge holding their breath and hoping for the courage to cross. Old hearts on the opposite bank pray that their sons will be brave.
A motiriot (initiated leader) instructs the boys, "Step where I step".
Caked mud dries and draws in the noonday sun, but the boys do not notice. They do not notice the crowd, the heat, the wild dove piping out her song, or the pounding in their hearts. Oblivious to embarassment, fatigue, thirst, or hunger they follow their motiriot as the hours advance under an oversized sky.
Eyes fixed, initiates follow their leader across the chasm of their inner doubts and fears, until, in the night, they unflinchingly brave the pain of circumcision and pass onto the side of their Fathers; greeting the morning as men.
There are spiritual passages in life-- situations and circumstances we face that shove us to the edge of dizzying decisions. Sometimes the edge drops with a nauseating steepness, and updrafts of doubt roar, "It held for them, but who can guarantee the bridge will hold for you!?” On the far bank, the Hebrews writer says we have a group of encouraging witnesses assuring us that God will lead safely through. They pray for our bravery.
Those mud-covered African boys know the secret to success. With riveted attention they march in the tracks of their motiriot. Ignoring the heat, the discomfort, the dangers they fix their attention on the steps of their teacher-- trusting him completely.
That's what faith is. Though faint with fear and dizzy with doubt, faith is releasing our life onto God's character -- following His lead, trusting Him completely.
Do you risk dismissal or demotion if you don’t follow an unethical directive at work? Do you fear being ‘paraded’ before your friends if you don't at least pretend to agree with their humanistic views? Might you loose the one you love if you obey God’s will for chastity? This is the precipice.
The depth of the chasm, the strength of the updrafts, nor the sway of the bridge really matter. The question is will you trust that God is able? That He is near? That He is good? That He is involved? The decision to trust-- regardless of consequence -- is what turns boys into men and it is what transforms belief (belonging even to demons) into faith (belonging only to disciples).
Times are different. Cultures are different. Customs are different, but the path is the same -- steep, treacherous. Faith is following Him through these frightening times of testing, these rites of passage. There is no other way to become God's man.
Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith..." Hebrews 12:2
By
Stephen Meeks
The scent of acacia pollen is bittersweet and strong in the early morning. That’s when they begin -- in the early morning.
Smoke rising from cooking fires snakes its way through thatched roofs and strikes at the dawn. It is the beginning of an African day, and they are turning boys into men.
Frightened fifteen and sixteen year olds, naked and shivering, smeared with mud, stand at attention. Today they are to become murenik (men/warriors), and join their Fathers on the distant side of an invisible bridge.
The chasm of transition from boyhood to manhood is intimidating. Young hearts approach the chasm's edge holding their breath and hoping for the courage to cross. Old hearts on the opposite bank pray that their sons will be brave.
A motiriot (initiated leader) instructs the boys, "Step where I step".
Caked mud dries and draws in the noonday sun, but the boys do not notice. They do not notice the crowd, the heat, the wild dove piping out her song, or the pounding in their hearts. Oblivious to embarassment, fatigue, thirst, or hunger they follow their motiriot as the hours advance under an oversized sky.
Eyes fixed, initiates follow their leader across the chasm of their inner doubts and fears, until, in the night, they unflinchingly brave the pain of circumcision and pass onto the side of their Fathers; greeting the morning as men.
There are spiritual passages in life-- situations and circumstances we face that shove us to the edge of dizzying decisions. Sometimes the edge drops with a nauseating steepness, and updrafts of doubt roar, "It held for them, but who can guarantee the bridge will hold for you!?” On the far bank, the Hebrews writer says we have a group of encouraging witnesses assuring us that God will lead safely through. They pray for our bravery.
Those mud-covered African boys know the secret to success. With riveted attention they march in the tracks of their motiriot. Ignoring the heat, the discomfort, the dangers they fix their attention on the steps of their teacher-- trusting him completely.
That's what faith is. Though faint with fear and dizzy with doubt, faith is releasing our life onto God's character -- following His lead, trusting Him completely.
Do you risk dismissal or demotion if you don’t follow an unethical directive at work? Do you fear being ‘paraded’ before your friends if you don't at least pretend to agree with their humanistic views? Might you loose the one you love if you obey God’s will for chastity? This is the precipice.
The depth of the chasm, the strength of the updrafts, nor the sway of the bridge really matter. The question is will you trust that God is able? That He is near? That He is good? That He is involved? The decision to trust-- regardless of consequence -- is what turns boys into men and it is what transforms belief (belonging even to demons) into faith (belonging only to disciples).
Times are different. Cultures are different. Customs are different, but the path is the same -- steep, treacherous. Faith is following Him through these frightening times of testing, these rites of passage. There is no other way to become God's man.
Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith..." Hebrews 12:2
Healing the Demoniac
The Gospel of Mark and Polytheism: Healing the Demoniac
by Ron Clark, Portland, OR
Polytheism is a word we do not think about to often. The word means “many gods.” The term suggests that an individual believes and worships more than one God or Lord. We do not meet many people who are polytheists, here in America, so most of us understand worship as a one on one relationship with a god or divine being.
Balance is a word we do understand. Balance means that everything is equal, in harmony, or in order. Balance in a polytheistic world meant that everything, good or evil, had its place and location in the world. Worship was not about praising one God, it was about keeping all the gods happy. Balance was not achieved through peace and harmony, it was achieved through manipulation, power, control, and covering your bases. This, above all, must have been exhausting.
In Mark 5 Jesus came to an area that had this form of balance. In a polytheistic society you kept the evil forces on your side (unless you wanted to curse someone) and the good forces on your side. It was even important to keep evil at bay, out of sight, out of mind. Hence we have a demoniac running around outside the city and howling around the graves and hills (where shrines tend to be). He is separated from the city. He could not be controlled so they let him run outside the city and become self destructive (Mark 5:1-5). This is convenient. Keep the bad guy with all the demons outside the city and we can continue in peace. This was balance. Yet, Jesus had a way of disrupting balance. A commitment to one God tends to do that. Just as King Josiah disrupted everyone’s system of balance, so Jesus came to seek and save (not drive out) those who are lost. Jesus exercised complete control on the demoniac and gave the many evil spirits permission to destroy the pigs (see what I mean by upsetting balance). In the minds of the people, the demons are now in the water and you never know what will happen next. His power was so strong that the people were afraid of him and begged him to go away from the whole region (Mark 5:17).
I could never understand why they did this—other than maybe they were afraid he would affect more livestock. Actually, he disturbed their nice, controlled, and balanced way of life. As long as they had a man they could call evil, they could send him away and go about their normal existence. Hearing the howls of the demoniac reminded them that evil was outside the camp and far from their safe environment.
My wife Lori and I have been in ministry for over 17 years. We began working with women and children who were victims of domestic violence in 1992. We learned to protect them and the theology behind their suffering, pain, and empowerment. In 1998 God moved us to Portland where Lori continued the work with victims and I learned how to help the abusive men. The batterer intervention counselors (most of them secular) taught me to have compassion on these men and understand how to help them by calling them to accountability. After a couple years of this training I again read the story of the demoniac. I came face to face with my own fears of these men and the realization that they are convenient demoniacs in our society.
We do not have room for these men in our cities. We drive them out, along with pedophiles and sexual addicts. I am not making excuses for their behavior--I am questioning whether we have a nice system of balance set up. As long as we demonize them and send them away we don't have to believe that evil is still among us. While they howl outside the city we publically warn people to beware of these evil creatures, not acknowledging that we all have the potential (living in a different family or place or lifestyle) to be evil, controlling, and abusive. I have had to acknowledge my own tendencies for power and control and struggle with sexual temptations as a man in a socieity that degrades women and children.
Are we any different than the citizens of Gerasa? And yet the command is still the same. "Go and tell everyone what the Lord has done for you..." The demoniacs of our age are still to be held accountable. Abusive men are called to display repentance to all and validate those whom they have destroyed by their language, fists, and attitudes rather than jump on the boat and flee with Jesus. Pedophiles must return to face their sins, their victims, and show people that repentance is more than a statement, it is a life long committment to Jesus. Sexual addicts must face the pain of those they hurt and show that women are not objects, but humans worthy of respect and love who are created in the image of Almighty God. The Savior is the same. He goes where we fear to go and has a habit of upsetting our nice balanced system of evil and good. He reminds us that evil (not flesh and blood) is to be confronted, challenged, and driven away. That all forms of evil should be faced and those under its power healed so that they can be "sitting, clothed, and in their right minds." He challenges us to embrace the demoniac and call him to repentance and health. He calls us to stop seeing evil as geographical or social and accept that it is pathological. He calls us to search out those howling among the tombs and give them a reason to sing. My Jesus loves us all and all of us includes all of them!!!!!
What think ye?
by Ron Clark, Portland, OR
Polytheism is a word we do not think about to often. The word means “many gods.” The term suggests that an individual believes and worships more than one God or Lord. We do not meet many people who are polytheists, here in America, so most of us understand worship as a one on one relationship with a god or divine being.
Balance is a word we do understand. Balance means that everything is equal, in harmony, or in order. Balance in a polytheistic world meant that everything, good or evil, had its place and location in the world. Worship was not about praising one God, it was about keeping all the gods happy. Balance was not achieved through peace and harmony, it was achieved through manipulation, power, control, and covering your bases. This, above all, must have been exhausting.
In Mark 5 Jesus came to an area that had this form of balance. In a polytheistic society you kept the evil forces on your side (unless you wanted to curse someone) and the good forces on your side. It was even important to keep evil at bay, out of sight, out of mind. Hence we have a demoniac running around outside the city and howling around the graves and hills (where shrines tend to be). He is separated from the city. He could not be controlled so they let him run outside the city and become self destructive (Mark 5:1-5). This is convenient. Keep the bad guy with all the demons outside the city and we can continue in peace. This was balance. Yet, Jesus had a way of disrupting balance. A commitment to one God tends to do that. Just as King Josiah disrupted everyone’s system of balance, so Jesus came to seek and save (not drive out) those who are lost. Jesus exercised complete control on the demoniac and gave the many evil spirits permission to destroy the pigs (see what I mean by upsetting balance). In the minds of the people, the demons are now in the water and you never know what will happen next. His power was so strong that the people were afraid of him and begged him to go away from the whole region (Mark 5:17).
I could never understand why they did this—other than maybe they were afraid he would affect more livestock. Actually, he disturbed their nice, controlled, and balanced way of life. As long as they had a man they could call evil, they could send him away and go about their normal existence. Hearing the howls of the demoniac reminded them that evil was outside the camp and far from their safe environment.
My wife Lori and I have been in ministry for over 17 years. We began working with women and children who were victims of domestic violence in 1992. We learned to protect them and the theology behind their suffering, pain, and empowerment. In 1998 God moved us to Portland where Lori continued the work with victims and I learned how to help the abusive men. The batterer intervention counselors (most of them secular) taught me to have compassion on these men and understand how to help them by calling them to accountability. After a couple years of this training I again read the story of the demoniac. I came face to face with my own fears of these men and the realization that they are convenient demoniacs in our society.
We do not have room for these men in our cities. We drive them out, along with pedophiles and sexual addicts. I am not making excuses for their behavior--I am questioning whether we have a nice system of balance set up. As long as we demonize them and send them away we don't have to believe that evil is still among us. While they howl outside the city we publically warn people to beware of these evil creatures, not acknowledging that we all have the potential (living in a different family or place or lifestyle) to be evil, controlling, and abusive. I have had to acknowledge my own tendencies for power and control and struggle with sexual temptations as a man in a socieity that degrades women and children.
Are we any different than the citizens of Gerasa? And yet the command is still the same. "Go and tell everyone what the Lord has done for you..." The demoniacs of our age are still to be held accountable. Abusive men are called to display repentance to all and validate those whom they have destroyed by their language, fists, and attitudes rather than jump on the boat and flee with Jesus. Pedophiles must return to face their sins, their victims, and show people that repentance is more than a statement, it is a life long committment to Jesus. Sexual addicts must face the pain of those they hurt and show that women are not objects, but humans worthy of respect and love who are created in the image of Almighty God. The Savior is the same. He goes where we fear to go and has a habit of upsetting our nice balanced system of evil and good. He reminds us that evil (not flesh and blood) is to be confronted, challenged, and driven away. That all forms of evil should be faced and those under its power healed so that they can be "sitting, clothed, and in their right minds." He challenges us to embrace the demoniac and call him to repentance and health. He calls us to stop seeing evil as geographical or social and accept that it is pathological. He calls us to search out those howling among the tombs and give them a reason to sing. My Jesus loves us all and all of us includes all of them!!!!!
What think ye?
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Jesus on the Run
Since the current of issue of New Wineskins explores the gospel of Mark, I'm re-posting a May 11 entry from my blog and experiencing all over again the convicting blessing of reading this dynamic gospel in one sitting.
I read the gospel of Mark last night before bed. It only takes about an hour. Especially if you're familiar with it ... if you skim the parts you know best ... if you're not looking for anything in particular ... if you can force yourself not to get hit between the eyes by something new and stop dead right there and ponder it.
What kept slapping me in the face last night was Fugitive Jesus. He is always trying to get away. He wants to preach. But people keep following Him because they are sick and they need to be healed, and He can't help Himself; He heals them. They need demons cast out, and He casts them out. He tells the demons "Keep quiet about Who I am!" It was almost as if He were saying: "Let them figure it out by themselves!"
And He says to His friends, "Let's go somewhere else so I can preach; that's what I came for," but people would still follow Him. When He heals them, He instructs them not to tell anybody. They tell anyway. One fellow He permits to go home and tell his family. The guy tells people in ten cities. And more people follow.
He needs rest; He sends out His friends. When they come back from teaching and healing, they need rest but they can't get away. People are looking for Him. They'd follow till they were too far from home to go back for dinner. Then He'd teach. Then He'd feed them. Then they'd surround Him and press him right to the edge of the lake so that He has to take a boat to escape.
He'd try to hide and people would still find Him. A Greek woman with a daughter who needed help. Jesus answers: "Go home; she's well." A deaf man who could hardly talk. "Don't tell anyone." A blind man. "Don't go into the village."
He confronts the Pharisees from Jerusalem, who just wanted to see magic tricks or argue with Him or try to prove Him wrong. He confronts His friends: "Who do they think I am? Who do you think I am?"
Peter tells Him. Jesus answers: "Don't tell anyone."
Then - three times - He tells them what is going to happen to Him.
Moses and Elijah confirm what Peter has guessed.
The running away and hiding and secrecy all cease. "Fugitive Jesus" is gone.
He starts for Jerusalem.
It's an impossible task. He can't do it all. He's on a deadline, and there are only so many more He can reach and teach and heal and bless before ....
Before He leaves the rest to us.
And it occurred to me last night ... In the first part of His ministry, Jesus didn't run from the task at hand; He ran from the recognition that was keeping Him from the task.
I tend to do just the opposite.
I read the gospel of Mark last night before bed. It only takes about an hour. Especially if you're familiar with it ... if you skim the parts you know best ... if you're not looking for anything in particular ... if you can force yourself not to get hit between the eyes by something new and stop dead right there and ponder it.
What kept slapping me in the face last night was Fugitive Jesus. He is always trying to get away. He wants to preach. But people keep following Him because they are sick and they need to be healed, and He can't help Himself; He heals them. They need demons cast out, and He casts them out. He tells the demons "Keep quiet about Who I am!" It was almost as if He were saying: "Let them figure it out by themselves!"
And He says to His friends, "Let's go somewhere else so I can preach; that's what I came for," but people would still follow Him. When He heals them, He instructs them not to tell anybody. They tell anyway. One fellow He permits to go home and tell his family. The guy tells people in ten cities. And more people follow.
He needs rest; He sends out His friends. When they come back from teaching and healing, they need rest but they can't get away. People are looking for Him. They'd follow till they were too far from home to go back for dinner. Then He'd teach. Then He'd feed them. Then they'd surround Him and press him right to the edge of the lake so that He has to take a boat to escape.
He'd try to hide and people would still find Him. A Greek woman with a daughter who needed help. Jesus answers: "Go home; she's well." A deaf man who could hardly talk. "Don't tell anyone." A blind man. "Don't go into the village."
He confronts the Pharisees from Jerusalem, who just wanted to see magic tricks or argue with Him or try to prove Him wrong. He confronts His friends: "Who do they think I am? Who do you think I am?"
Peter tells Him. Jesus answers: "Don't tell anyone."
Then - three times - He tells them what is going to happen to Him.
Moses and Elijah confirm what Peter has guessed.
The running away and hiding and secrecy all cease. "Fugitive Jesus" is gone.
He starts for Jerusalem.
It's an impossible task. He can't do it all. He's on a deadline, and there are only so many more He can reach and teach and heal and bless before ....
Before He leaves the rest to us.
And it occurred to me last night ... In the first part of His ministry, Jesus didn't run from the task at hand; He ran from the recognition that was keeping Him from the task.
I tend to do just the opposite.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
More People Who Are 'Living Christ'
Living as Christ would live if He were here now, in your body, with your name - that's a challenge that has faced Christians since century one. It's the theme of the latest issue of New Wineskins, and it calls to mind some blogs I've read from folks who have been up to the challenge.
Larry James is one of those people who is day-in and day-out living that life. He ministers in an urban environment, in central Dallas. His methods and approaches are often as unorthodox as those of his Savior.
Neal Whitlow had a moment in which he chose to live down the good-natured jabs at his fellowship's expense, to become completely transparent and let some fellow ministers see Jesus Christ in him. It became a moment of grace I will never forget.
Joel Quile experienced another kind of moment, a moment which forced a decision in the quick of a crisis that became an opportunity to minister - in his words - without a thought. Maybe, Joel, it was just that you were open to the thoughts of the Spirit.
Patrick Mead recounts a Christ-like moment with his son (who exhibits some admirable honesty as well) in a story that involves the wind, a car door, a dent in a truck, and the price of a soul at peace.
Since I'm on the subject of fathers and sons, Bob McClanahan is an old friend, and while this site is technically not a blog, it details the efforts of family and friends of his son Riley to reach out with a message of hope in Christ to families of other special-needs children. Did I mention he also manages a prayer warrior list-serve that distributes prayer requests from all over the world to folks at the church we attend?
Fred Peatross just asks people that he meets what they think about Christians and about Jesus. With a mike, camcorder and some Starbucks coupons he conducts these on-the-spot interviews once a month, inspired by the Web page ordinary attempts. The people he speaks to aren't referred to as "lost"; they are "people whom Jesus misses most."
I'll bet you know a few people like these. Ordinary people who live extraordinary lives because it's not them doing the living; it's Christ living in them.
Why don't you take a moment and enrich the rest of us by sharing a story or two about them in the comments below?
You never know. One of them might be just the thing that triggers another Christ-led life.
Larry James is one of those people who is day-in and day-out living that life. He ministers in an urban environment, in central Dallas. His methods and approaches are often as unorthodox as those of his Savior.
Neal Whitlow had a moment in which he chose to live down the good-natured jabs at his fellowship's expense, to become completely transparent and let some fellow ministers see Jesus Christ in him. It became a moment of grace I will never forget.
Joel Quile experienced another kind of moment, a moment which forced a decision in the quick of a crisis that became an opportunity to minister - in his words - without a thought. Maybe, Joel, it was just that you were open to the thoughts of the Spirit.
Patrick Mead recounts a Christ-like moment with his son (who exhibits some admirable honesty as well) in a story that involves the wind, a car door, a dent in a truck, and the price of a soul at peace.
Since I'm on the subject of fathers and sons, Bob McClanahan is an old friend, and while this site is technically not a blog, it details the efforts of family and friends of his son Riley to reach out with a message of hope in Christ to families of other special-needs children. Did I mention he also manages a prayer warrior list-serve that distributes prayer requests from all over the world to folks at the church we attend?
Fred Peatross just asks people that he meets what they think about Christians and about Jesus. With a mike, camcorder and some Starbucks coupons he conducts these on-the-spot interviews once a month, inspired by the Web page ordinary attempts. The people he speaks to aren't referred to as "lost"; they are "people whom Jesus misses most."
I'll bet you know a few people like these. Ordinary people who live extraordinary lives because it's not them doing the living; it's Christ living in them.
Why don't you take a moment and enrich the rest of us by sharing a story or two about them in the comments below?
You never know. One of them might be just the thing that triggers another Christ-led life.
Friday, May 20, 2005
The Wrong Side Of Hell
I am nearly done with Brian McLaren’s, “The Last Word…,” and I have to say that it is grinding up my view of Hell.
What’s got my head spinning today is the idea that being judged and being saved by grace are not opposites. Being saved does not necessarily negate judgment and judgment is more like a telling of the truth. I’m not sure that to make of it all.
What I find more useful is Jesus’ use of Hell. Apparently Jesus takes the prevailing view of Hell utilized by the Pharisees and turns it back on them. Kind of a so-how-does-it-feel approach to the harsh methods the Pharisees used in how they treated people. Clearly they did not appreciate being on the receiving end of their use of Hell. So, they killed Jesus.
The Pharisees used Hell against the “sinners” and tried to scare people into being moral. Jesus used Hell against the Pharisees and tried to show them that being good was of equal or greater value than being moral.
Mere morality requires no real goodness, but true goodness is moral. It’s kind of like morality is a subset of goodness and not the other way around.
What I find most disturbing is that the view of Hell I have known my whole life is almost identical to the Pharisee’s view, not Jesus’ view. I’ve been on the wrong side of Hell my whole life. I wonder how much this idea has impacted how I have treated people. I fear looking into that because I think it will expose things about me that are embarrassing, humiliating, and regrettable.
On the other hand, maybe that is the judgment of God on me (telling the truth about me) and that if I do know that truth about me, then I will have the opportunity to change, be motivated differently, to love more.
Oh God, lead me into your goodness and strip away anything less than you desire.
What’s got my head spinning today is the idea that being judged and being saved by grace are not opposites. Being saved does not necessarily negate judgment and judgment is more like a telling of the truth. I’m not sure that to make of it all.
What I find more useful is Jesus’ use of Hell. Apparently Jesus takes the prevailing view of Hell utilized by the Pharisees and turns it back on them. Kind of a so-how-does-it-feel approach to the harsh methods the Pharisees used in how they treated people. Clearly they did not appreciate being on the receiving end of their use of Hell. So, they killed Jesus.
The Pharisees used Hell against the “sinners” and tried to scare people into being moral. Jesus used Hell against the Pharisees and tried to show them that being good was of equal or greater value than being moral.
Mere morality requires no real goodness, but true goodness is moral. It’s kind of like morality is a subset of goodness and not the other way around.
What I find most disturbing is that the view of Hell I have known my whole life is almost identical to the Pharisee’s view, not Jesus’ view. I’ve been on the wrong side of Hell my whole life. I wonder how much this idea has impacted how I have treated people. I fear looking into that because I think it will expose things about me that are embarrassing, humiliating, and regrettable.
On the other hand, maybe that is the judgment of God on me (telling the truth about me) and that if I do know that truth about me, then I will have the opportunity to change, be motivated differently, to love more.
Oh God, lead me into your goodness and strip away anything less than you desire.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Living God's Love - Conversation on chapter nine
It’s the oldest one in the books when it comes to Spirituality and church today: “I’m spiritual but I don’t think I have to go to church to express it.”
At the heart of this statement is a misconception about what authentic Christian Spirituality. Spirituality does not lead purely to solitude and individual piety, nor does it lead to elitism. Instead, Christian Spirituality leads to and embodies Christian community.
In Lavender’s and Holloway’s chapter nine of Living God’s Love, they discuss the importance of a loving community, referencing the first Christ Community described in Acts 2:42-46. Through history, many Christians have departed from this model, however, favoring some form of artificial membership where those who join ascend to certain doctrines and forms and try not to miss meetings, but a relationship with God and discipleship may not be emphasized. The authors warn against both the pole of overstressing “membership” that’s merely attending and the pole of de-emphasizing membership in favor of a personal spirituality.
In community we also worship in order to remember that we are not God, that God is sovereign in the universe and over our lives. Here’s what the authors say about the worshipping community:
The last reflection coming soon is on the final chapter of Living God’s Love: “Inviting Others to Fall in Love with God.”
At the heart of this statement is a misconception about what authentic Christian Spirituality. Spirituality does not lead purely to solitude and individual piety, nor does it lead to elitism. Instead, Christian Spirituality leads to and embodies Christian community.
In Lavender’s and Holloway’s chapter nine of Living God’s Love, they discuss the importance of a loving community, referencing the first Christ Community described in Acts 2:42-46. Through history, many Christians have departed from this model, however, favoring some form of artificial membership where those who join ascend to certain doctrines and forms and try not to miss meetings, but a relationship with God and discipleship may not be emphasized. The authors warn against both the pole of overstressing “membership” that’s merely attending and the pole of de-emphasizing membership in favor of a personal spirituality.
We must avoid the dangers of a private spirituality outside of the context of community. Such “spirituality” ultimately makes one less useful to God. The proper exercise of the spiritual disciplines will always lead us to a deeper participation in community, not to a spiritual elitism.In Christ we put to death selfishness and individualism. We put on new clothes of Christ and that also means we join a community of those clothed with Christ as well. Peace of Christ rules our hearts and we display an exaggerated sensitivity for others, one that goes overboard to make sure we are preferring others rather than ourselves. The word of Christ dwells in us richly. Lavender and Holloway show how Ephesians 4:12-16 provides a complete picture of Christian community in action. Christ gives us each gifts to use in the body of Christ. Paul expects the churches to function as those who are being shaped in Christ’s image, growing toward maturity in Christ together.
In community we also worship in order to remember that we are not God, that God is sovereign in the universe and over our lives. Here’s what the authors say about the worshipping community:
The assemblies discussed in the New Testament reflect a joyful gathering for praising God for the blessings received through Christ Jesus. Trying to figure out exactly the right formula that would satisfy God is to miss the point of the assembly. He is not a God who needs us (Psalm 50), but he is a God who wants us. We need him! We need the worship assembly in order to remember that life is not about us. We come before him with the sacrifice of our lives and renew our covenant to live for his glory. So we lift our hearts in song and prayer, we study his written truths, we dine at his spiritual feast. We remember his magnificent works. We rejoice in our certain place in his eternal feast. Our lives are changed. And God delights in the submissive, worshipful heart.One last thing about this chapter. Group discernment is raised as a spiritual discipline of the Christian community. There’s a great example of a life-shaping decision that Earl Lavender had to make, and he gathered several of his wise friends to help him talk and pray about it and discern what to do. He even invited one person along with whom he rarely agreed. He said with the help of God’s Spirit and collective wisdom, he knew what he needed to do. Looking back, he says, what he was encouraged by the group to do was clearly the right choice. Along with group discernment, part of living in God’s love and community is Spiritual friendship, what some call having a mentor. The greatest mentor, Jesus, invites us to be “joined at the neck” (yoked) with him as he embodies the life of the Father.
The last reflection coming soon is on the final chapter of Living God’s Love: “Inviting Others to Fall in Love with God.”
Friday, May 06, 2005
Spiritual Formation through Desperation
Is it possible that God really doesn't want us to be happy?
People will justify all kinds of things they do because "I just know God wants me to be happy."
What if He doesn't?
What if He wants us to suffer? To be challenged? To give up things we want in order to seek the things He wants for us? To grow?
What if He wants us to die to self and the goal of our own happiness?
Would we become people after God's own heart - like the penitent King David after his murderous adultery? Would we have a deeper understanding of Christ's sacrifice if we made a few sacrifices of our own? Would we appreciate what it's like to be despised and rejected if we suffer some of it for ourselves?
If that's not in store for us, then why does Jesus offer the reassurance of the Beatitudes?
Wouldn't the happiness that's in store for us with Him forever be worth a few moments of unhappiness here and now?
I can't forget what one of my roommates in college said while we were discussing the spiritual "thing" of the moment back then: "Mountaintop experiences are overrated. It's when I'm in the valleys - in the very pits - that God lifts my face."
I think he was on to something.
People will justify all kinds of things they do because "I just know God wants me to be happy."
What if He doesn't?
What if He wants us to suffer? To be challenged? To give up things we want in order to seek the things He wants for us? To grow?
What if He wants us to die to self and the goal of our own happiness?
Would we become people after God's own heart - like the penitent King David after his murderous adultery? Would we have a deeper understanding of Christ's sacrifice if we made a few sacrifices of our own? Would we appreciate what it's like to be despised and rejected if we suffer some of it for ourselves?
If that's not in store for us, then why does Jesus offer the reassurance of the Beatitudes?
Wouldn't the happiness that's in store for us with Him forever be worth a few moments of unhappiness here and now?
I can't forget what one of my roommates in college said while we were discussing the spiritual "thing" of the moment back then: "Mountaintop experiences are overrated. It's when I'm in the valleys - in the very pits - that God lifts my face."
I think he was on to something.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
Parental Pride Party and Our Kids' Spiritual afFormation
Carolyn Anderson's excellent New Wineskins article on the spiritual formation of children prompted me to post a column I wrote for the August 23, 2002 edition of the Abilene Reporter-News:
Our small group at church has been studying Christian parenting every Wednesday evening since September and recently came to the conclusion that we don’t tell our kids often enough just how proud of them we are and why.
So a couple of weeks ago, six pairs of parents gathered in our living room to tell our 15 children — ages 2 through 9 — exactly that, a “parental blessing,” if you will.
I really didn’t know what to expect since the gathering was the brainchild of our small group leader, and he had planned the itinerary. And I confess I had my doubts about having that many little ones tearing through the house. Some of them are real tornadoes — and two of them are mine!
Together we gobbled down a potluck dinner in which every family had contributed ingredients for curry chicken. The kids played together for a while, as they always do. Then we collected everyone.
Each dad read a short scripture that has special meaning for him when he’s interacting with his kids. Every reading was different, and each one gave a little more insight about that family.
Because our two children are adopted, I read from Romans 8 and told them that not only is the whole creation on the edge of its seat waiting for God’s adoption, but that I’m sure he is, too — because I know how their mom and I felt, waiting for those two calls from our adoption agency.
Each parent, in turn, told each of his or her children one or two reasons we are so proud of them, right there in front of their friends and family. Every kid beamed when hugged and kissed and given a simple white ribbon that said “#1 Kid.” The reasons were as varied as the kids’ natures and interests. It took a while — 45 minutes or more.
There was a little squirming, but for the most part the children were riveted by the events.
Parents expressed pride in athletic and academic achievement … in hobbies and interests … in sweet natures and curiosity and compassion.
The youngest one — a precious little blond-curled toddler — gave her daddy extra pride “because she’s always singing happy little songs about Jesus.” When she heard that, she giggled and did a little dance of joy.
We briefly thanked God for them and prayed his blessing on them throughout their whole lives. Then we let them go play together again. (While romping, one 7-year-old girl fell on our sidewalk and knocked out two loose front teeth. We all scoured the walk for the missing teeth so the Tooth Fairy wouldn’t pass her by.)
Nobody complained that it took too long. None of the kids asked how they could all be “#1 Kid.”
Maybe curry chicken isn’t your taste. Maybe you could do without the prayer and the scripture. Maybe six or seven families and 15 kids are too many for your house.
But I can’t help but think that every family would feel as uplifted as we did, just by getting together with a few dear friends and having a little parental pride party for the kids.
Our small group at church has been studying Christian parenting every Wednesday evening since September and recently came to the conclusion that we don’t tell our kids often enough just how proud of them we are and why.
So a couple of weeks ago, six pairs of parents gathered in our living room to tell our 15 children — ages 2 through 9 — exactly that, a “parental blessing,” if you will.
I really didn’t know what to expect since the gathering was the brainchild of our small group leader, and he had planned the itinerary. And I confess I had my doubts about having that many little ones tearing through the house. Some of them are real tornadoes — and two of them are mine!
Together we gobbled down a potluck dinner in which every family had contributed ingredients for curry chicken. The kids played together for a while, as they always do. Then we collected everyone.
Each dad read a short scripture that has special meaning for him when he’s interacting with his kids. Every reading was different, and each one gave a little more insight about that family.
Because our two children are adopted, I read from Romans 8 and told them that not only is the whole creation on the edge of its seat waiting for God’s adoption, but that I’m sure he is, too — because I know how their mom and I felt, waiting for those two calls from our adoption agency.
Each parent, in turn, told each of his or her children one or two reasons we are so proud of them, right there in front of their friends and family. Every kid beamed when hugged and kissed and given a simple white ribbon that said “#1 Kid.” The reasons were as varied as the kids’ natures and interests. It took a while — 45 minutes or more.
There was a little squirming, but for the most part the children were riveted by the events.
Parents expressed pride in athletic and academic achievement … in hobbies and interests … in sweet natures and curiosity and compassion.
The youngest one — a precious little blond-curled toddler — gave her daddy extra pride “because she’s always singing happy little songs about Jesus.” When she heard that, she giggled and did a little dance of joy.
We briefly thanked God for them and prayed his blessing on them throughout their whole lives. Then we let them go play together again. (While romping, one 7-year-old girl fell on our sidewalk and knocked out two loose front teeth. We all scoured the walk for the missing teeth so the Tooth Fairy wouldn’t pass her by.)
Nobody complained that it took too long. None of the kids asked how they could all be “#1 Kid.”
Maybe curry chicken isn’t your taste. Maybe you could do without the prayer and the scripture. Maybe six or seven families and 15 kids are too many for your house.
But I can’t help but think that every family would feel as uplifted as we did, just by getting together with a few dear friends and having a little parental pride party for the kids.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Cross-Shattered Christ: Reflection on "The Seventh (and Final) Word"
"Father, into your hands I commend my spirit" (Luke 23:46).
Stanley Hauerwas ends his 102-page book with this invitation: "So come, draw near, fear not, and behold the mystery and wonder of Jesus's cross."
What leads up to this point is a final reflection on the seventh word of Jesus. The final prayer of Jesus, like much of his life, is a direct conversation with the Father. "My Father" is one of Jesus' most-uttered phrases in John. Now, here on the cross Jesus again speaks to his Father and gives the ultimate trusting word. My life is in your hands.
Only through Jesus' laying his life in the hands of the Father can we do so. We join Jesus in his death and resurrection because Jesus at this moment trusted the Father enough to lay down his life and face hell and mysteries of the world he entered on Friday and Saturday that we'll never fully understand on this side of eternity.
Hauerwas points out that since Jesus has done this great work, he can say in Revelation 1:17-18, "Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last, and the living one. I was dead, and see, I am alive forever and ever; and I have the keys of Death and of Hades."
The person of Christ (that he took on our humanity) and the work of Christ (that he gave his life willingly to the Father) allow us to join him in his life, death, resurrection. "By giving himself up and commending his spirit to the Father," Hauerwas says, "Jesus invites and enables us to give ourselves up and become 'united with him in a death like his' (Romans 6:5)."
Jesus died so that we join with Israel, with the church worldwide in the hope that death is not the final word. Hauerwas quotes Christopher Seitz, who says God has become for us death, destroying "whatever gap we might have suspected existed between God and his complete disclosure of himself to us."
Thank you for joining me in these seven reflections on Stanley Hauerwas's Cross-Shattered Christ:Mediations on the Seven Last Words.--Greg Taylor
Stanley Hauerwas ends his 102-page book with this invitation: "So come, draw near, fear not, and behold the mystery and wonder of Jesus's cross." What leads up to this point is a final reflection on the seventh word of Jesus. The final prayer of Jesus, like much of his life, is a direct conversation with the Father. "My Father" is one of Jesus' most-uttered phrases in John. Now, here on the cross Jesus again speaks to his Father and gives the ultimate trusting word. My life is in your hands.
Only through Jesus' laying his life in the hands of the Father can we do so. We join Jesus in his death and resurrection because Jesus at this moment trusted the Father enough to lay down his life and face hell and mysteries of the world he entered on Friday and Saturday that we'll never fully understand on this side of eternity.
Hauerwas points out that since Jesus has done this great work, he can say in Revelation 1:17-18, "Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last, and the living one. I was dead, and see, I am alive forever and ever; and I have the keys of Death and of Hades."
The person of Christ (that he took on our humanity) and the work of Christ (that he gave his life willingly to the Father) allow us to join him in his life, death, resurrection. "By giving himself up and commending his spirit to the Father," Hauerwas says, "Jesus invites and enables us to give ourselves up and become 'united with him in a death like his' (Romans 6:5)."
Jesus died so that we join with Israel, with the church worldwide in the hope that death is not the final word. Hauerwas quotes Christopher Seitz, who says God has become for us death, destroying "whatever gap we might have suspected existed between God and his complete disclosure of himself to us."
Thank you for joining me in these seven reflections on Stanley Hauerwas's Cross-Shattered Christ:Mediations on the Seven Last Words.--Greg Taylor
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Eleven-year-olds talking about denominations
Ashley, our eleven-year-old, had a sleepover, and the next morning the girls were talking around the island in the kitchen.
Ashley to her friend Kira: "Is your church Baptist or a Christ Church, or what?"
Kira: "It's not a denomination." Kira attends a community church.
In the other room, I had been talking to the mom of Heidi, another friend of Ashley's, and they attend a different church, called Community Bible Church. We walked into the kitchen and the girls got quiet, as eleven-year-olds often do when adults enter, like the animals stop talking when people appear in the old Far Side cartoons.
Me: "Talking religion in here, girls? Do you know what denomination means?"
The eleven-year-olds all shrugged or nodded their heads no.
Me: "It basically means a particular church group or organization of churches. All three of you girls attend non-denominational churches." I could tell I'd lost them at hello.
Heidi's mom: "The Church of Christ is a denomination."
I just smiled and asked if the girls had everything before they left. When Kira's mother arrived, I told her about the conversation. She looked puzzled. She had no idea the church of Christ had been a "non-denominational" unity movement.
Ashley is a fifth generation member of the non-denominational churches of Christ. Kira and Heidi both attend community churches. Who flipped the script on the Restoration Movement? The non-denominational unity and Christ-centered, Bible-reading, and Christian-name-wearing legacy of restoration lives on in tens of thousands of churches and many varieties worldwide.
But many people in these churches--anecdotally, at least these two families--are not aware of this legacy in the churches of Christ.
Ashley to her friend Kira: "Is your church Baptist or a Christ Church, or what?"
Kira: "It's not a denomination." Kira attends a community church.
In the other room, I had been talking to the mom of Heidi, another friend of Ashley's, and they attend a different church, called Community Bible Church. We walked into the kitchen and the girls got quiet, as eleven-year-olds often do when adults enter, like the animals stop talking when people appear in the old Far Side cartoons.
Me: "Talking religion in here, girls? Do you know what denomination means?"
The eleven-year-olds all shrugged or nodded their heads no.
Me: "It basically means a particular church group or organization of churches. All three of you girls attend non-denominational churches." I could tell I'd lost them at hello.
Heidi's mom: "The Church of Christ is a denomination."
I just smiled and asked if the girls had everything before they left. When Kira's mother arrived, I told her about the conversation. She looked puzzled. She had no idea the church of Christ had been a "non-denominational" unity movement.
Ashley is a fifth generation member of the non-denominational churches of Christ. Kira and Heidi both attend community churches. Who flipped the script on the Restoration Movement? The non-denominational unity and Christ-centered, Bible-reading, and Christian-name-wearing legacy of restoration lives on in tens of thousands of churches and many varieties worldwide.
But many people in these churches--anecdotally, at least these two families--are not aware of this legacy in the churches of Christ.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Cross-Shattered Christ: Reflection on "The Sixth Word"
It is finished (John 19:30)
A quarter of the world’s population witnessed the funeral of the pope . . . I woke at 3 a.m. to watch with them . . . the pope’s last words may have been, “be not afraid” . . . when Terry Schiavo died, we heard no audible last words . . . famous last words . . . Jesus’ last words spoken on the cross as recorded in John were, “It is finished.” Other Gospels, Jesus says, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”
A shocking realization came over me recently when I realized something simple yet profound: the seven words of Christ on the cross were prayers.
For a few minutes this morning, I want us to reflect on the word of Christ, “It is finished.”
First, read the passage with the prayer, “Open not just my ears but all my senses this morning to your word.”
John 19:28-30
Was Christ talking about the end of his suffering that day? Like a man competing in an Ironman race? Or was he talking about something more cosmic and apocalyptic? Was this that last gasp that Matthew and Mark record, that great cry before he died, and what does it mean? Was it merely a famous last word or does it mean something life-shaping to us?
In Uganda when something was used up, they said "it is finished." If you ordered chicken at a restaurant and the supplier hadn’t shown up that day on his bicycle with five live chickens tied to the back of his bicycle because he had to attend a funeral for his neighbor who died with AIDS, the waiter would come back and say, “the chicken, it is finished.” He might offer the aforementioned explanation if pressed.
So when my friend Oneka, who has HIV, hears the words of Jesus on the cross in English at least, he hears that life has been totally emptied. Nothing left. Africans, as do American Indians, often describe or name things by their actions. Dances with Wolves. In Africa, AIDS is often called SLIMs, a reference to the emaciated state of the dying. What would be the last words of the dying in Africa? Perhaps, "Life is emptied."
Prayer, said one saint, should be uttered as if you will die when the prayer is over. It is finished.
This word, one of seven of the classic words of Jesus from the cross, is simply put, a prayer. We often consider the prayer of Jesus in Gethsemane as his last prayer . . . he prayed in the greatest crisis, in terror and pain: Father forgive them. I thirst. Behold your mother. Behold your son. Into your hands I commit my spirit. It is finished.
What if we prayed this ourselves today? Lord and Father, the work you have done is finished. Now, send your servant into the world to proclaim it. What if our prayers were more urgently about the mission of God and less about our missing life or some privilege we think we deserve? As if life itself were teetering on the razor’s edge? Would we then be praying closer to the kingdom prayers than those “please God” prayers and “give me” prayers?
What if we prayed, “I am finished.” Religion is finished. Racism is finished. Subjugation of women is finished. My selfishness is finished. Sin is finished. Suffering is finished. Is it over? No, but it’s finished, emptied of its power by Christ on the cross who finished the work the Father sent him to do. It is finished.
Draw near to the cross and hear his words. The work that Christ came to do is finished, but as Hauerwas says, it's not over. It continues in us as the finished people of God. Creation’s end and consummation is Christ himself becoming human and suffering in every way as man. Only through him do we become “the finished,” the body of Christ.
Cancer can not undo us, neither can disappointment or fear. A child who strays cannot bring our faith to ruin. It is finished. Christ will draw all men and he will draw your child who seems to be running away. Church splits cannot undo us. It is finished. We are the done. Divorce and hate-filled emails and phone calls from the ex-spouse cannot unravel us. We are the finished, the body of Christ. We may feel undone at times, unfinished and certainly God is not through with us. It’s finished but it is not over . . .
It’s not over and we are witnesses to the beauty and power of the coming kingdom that we see with finished eyes by faith. Marantha, come Lord Jesus. It is finished. It is finished. It is finished.
A quarter of the world’s population witnessed the funeral of the pope . . . I woke at 3 a.m. to watch with them . . . the pope’s last words may have been, “be not afraid” . . . when Terry Schiavo died, we heard no audible last words . . . famous last words . . . Jesus’ last words spoken on the cross as recorded in John were, “It is finished.” Other Gospels, Jesus says, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”
A shocking realization came over me recently when I realized something simple yet profound: the seven words of Christ on the cross were prayers.
For a few minutes this morning, I want us to reflect on the word of Christ, “It is finished.”
First, read the passage with the prayer, “Open not just my ears but all my senses this morning to your word.”
John 19:28-30
Jesus, seeing that everything had been completed so that the Scripture record might also be complete, then said, "I'm thirsty."The human spirit yearns to finish, to be finished, to be done.
[29] A jug of sour wine was standing by. Someone put a sponge soaked with the wine on a javelin and lifted it to his mouth. [30] After he took the wine, Jesus said, "It's done . . . complete." Bowing his head, he offered up his spirit.
Was Christ talking about the end of his suffering that day? Like a man competing in an Ironman race? Or was he talking about something more cosmic and apocalyptic? Was this that last gasp that Matthew and Mark record, that great cry before he died, and what does it mean? Was it merely a famous last word or does it mean something life-shaping to us?
In Uganda when something was used up, they said "it is finished." If you ordered chicken at a restaurant and the supplier hadn’t shown up that day on his bicycle with five live chickens tied to the back of his bicycle because he had to attend a funeral for his neighbor who died with AIDS, the waiter would come back and say, “the chicken, it is finished.” He might offer the aforementioned explanation if pressed.
So when my friend Oneka, who has HIV, hears the words of Jesus on the cross in English at least, he hears that life has been totally emptied. Nothing left. Africans, as do American Indians, often describe or name things by their actions. Dances with Wolves. In Africa, AIDS is often called SLIMs, a reference to the emaciated state of the dying. What would be the last words of the dying in Africa? Perhaps, "Life is emptied."
Prayer, said one saint, should be uttered as if you will die when the prayer is over. It is finished.
This word, one of seven of the classic words of Jesus from the cross, is simply put, a prayer. We often consider the prayer of Jesus in Gethsemane as his last prayer . . . he prayed in the greatest crisis, in terror and pain: Father forgive them. I thirst. Behold your mother. Behold your son. Into your hands I commit my spirit. It is finished.
What if we prayed this ourselves today? Lord and Father, the work you have done is finished. Now, send your servant into the world to proclaim it. What if our prayers were more urgently about the mission of God and less about our missing life or some privilege we think we deserve? As if life itself were teetering on the razor’s edge? Would we then be praying closer to the kingdom prayers than those “please God” prayers and “give me” prayers?
What if we prayed, “I am finished.” Religion is finished. Racism is finished. Subjugation of women is finished. My selfishness is finished. Sin is finished. Suffering is finished. Is it over? No, but it’s finished, emptied of its power by Christ on the cross who finished the work the Father sent him to do. It is finished.
Draw near to the cross and hear his words. The work that Christ came to do is finished, but as Hauerwas says, it's not over. It continues in us as the finished people of God. Creation’s end and consummation is Christ himself becoming human and suffering in every way as man. Only through him do we become “the finished,” the body of Christ.
Cancer can not undo us, neither can disappointment or fear. A child who strays cannot bring our faith to ruin. It is finished. Christ will draw all men and he will draw your child who seems to be running away. Church splits cannot undo us. It is finished. We are the done. Divorce and hate-filled emails and phone calls from the ex-spouse cannot unravel us. We are the finished, the body of Christ. We may feel undone at times, unfinished and certainly God is not through with us. It’s finished but it is not over . . .
It’s not over and we are witnesses to the beauty and power of the coming kingdom that we see with finished eyes by faith. Marantha, come Lord Jesus. It is finished. It is finished. It is finished.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
The Spiritual Formation of a Pope
A lot of folks these days are wondering and looking into how a pope is elected.
I wonder how a pope is made. Reading about John Paul's young life and training and early career as a priest is interesting, and solidifies my impression about his integrity within the culture of the church in which he was reared.
But how does a pope deal with the question of papal infallibility, knowing what goes on in his own heart; what has gone on in the hearts and lives and edicts of his predecessors? Because - and I'm using New Advent's definition linked above - it is the infallibility of doctrinal interpretation that is at the heart of the question.
How does a pope maintain his humility in the face of being regarded as such? How does he shoulder the burden of this infallibility when the papal robes are placed upon him? The implication is that while he may do wrong, he cannot say wrong on the matter of doctrine.
How intensely does he study - both the Bible and his own church's history, for he must conform to both - and prayerfully approach the answer to all of the new questions that arise from tumultuous change in sociology, biology, technology, politics ... even weather? Knowing that whatever he says will be regarded by the better part of a billion people as the very utterance of God?
Does he pray for the guidance of the Holy Spirit in such matters? Do millions of his flock pray with him for it?
Does God grant their petition?
I'm not intentionally trying to cloud the distinction between papal infallibility, revelation and inspiration that Catholics perceive. It's tough, though, because they are integrally related. And they must have a profound impact on the one chosen as pope.
We non-Catholics tend to be skeptical of such a core belief as doctrinal infallibility.
But I also wonder - and it's easy for me to wonder, since I don't have a pulpit - do the ministers and preachers among us feel that same burden when they step up to the lectern or visit a hospital bed or sit in on an elder's meeting? Do they pray constantly that each word they proclaim is the very word of God? Do we, their various flocks, pray with them for the guidance of His Spirit?
As members of a universal priesthood, do we pray for that kind of infallibility for ourselves?
"Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect." - Matthew 5:48
I wonder how a pope is made. Reading about John Paul's young life and training and early career as a priest is interesting, and solidifies my impression about his integrity within the culture of the church in which he was reared.
But how does a pope deal with the question of papal infallibility, knowing what goes on in his own heart; what has gone on in the hearts and lives and edicts of his predecessors? Because - and I'm using New Advent's definition linked above - it is the infallibility of doctrinal interpretation that is at the heart of the question.
How does a pope maintain his humility in the face of being regarded as such? How does he shoulder the burden of this infallibility when the papal robes are placed upon him? The implication is that while he may do wrong, he cannot say wrong on the matter of doctrine.
How intensely does he study - both the Bible and his own church's history, for he must conform to both - and prayerfully approach the answer to all of the new questions that arise from tumultuous change in sociology, biology, technology, politics ... even weather? Knowing that whatever he says will be regarded by the better part of a billion people as the very utterance of God?
Does he pray for the guidance of the Holy Spirit in such matters? Do millions of his flock pray with him for it?
Does God grant their petition?
I'm not intentionally trying to cloud the distinction between papal infallibility, revelation and inspiration that Catholics perceive. It's tough, though, because they are integrally related. And they must have a profound impact on the one chosen as pope.
We non-Catholics tend to be skeptical of such a core belief as doctrinal infallibility.
But I also wonder - and it's easy for me to wonder, since I don't have a pulpit - do the ministers and preachers among us feel that same burden when they step up to the lectern or visit a hospital bed or sit in on an elder's meeting? Do they pray constantly that each word they proclaim is the very word of God? Do we, their various flocks, pray with them for the guidance of His Spirit?
As members of a universal priesthood, do we pray for that kind of infallibility for ourselves?
"Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect." - Matthew 5:48
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
What place does the pope have in lives of non-Catholics?
What place does the pope have in the lives of non-Catholics?
Though I’ve lived through three papacies, Pope John Paul II has defined what a pope is and does for a billion Catholics and for the rest of the world. He was very conservative on most issues but no other pope had traveled and perhaps few others had advocated for the poor like he did. He traveled to 129 countries. When he visited Africa, many non-Catholics wanted to see him, hear him say, "Do not be afraid."
Pope John Paul II set the tone for how widely a modern pope is expected to travel and bring a message of hope and love for humanity through Jesus Christ. He did not stand down against leaders, from Reagan to Bush, on the call for peace. He is credited for a major role in the fall of communism and the movement in Poland. Yet, he also perpetuated a hard-line role against contraception, even as a protector against HIV, which gravely impacts poor nations in their fight against AIDS. He also remained firm on celibacy and unmarried priesthood, which many believe should change, particularly in light of the sex scandal of the American Catholic Church.
I was not raised to revere or honor the pope. Too much of the priesthood of all believers, calling no one “father” and perhaps influence of democracy had surged through my veins to think much about the pope. I was not even “Protestant,” those who protested against Rome and how they were raising money for the Vatican by charging indulgences for absolution of sin and eternal damnation and other corruption. I came from a “free” church. Free of hierarchy, free to choose (sounds more like economics), free to interpret Scripture (as long as it fit within certain pre-set and unwritten parameters).
Twenty-six years ago, my memory of the choosing of Pope John Paul II was the smoke billowing out of the Vatican near the Sistine Chapel where the Cardinals were meeting for the Conclave. Then, several years into the papacy of John Paul II, I went to Italy and visited several cities, including Rome. The Vatican is one of the most jaw-dropping places in the world. Walking into St. Peter’s Basilica and the amazement of seeing Michelangelo’s Pieta
grows in me still today, eighteen years later. Again, I was pre-disposed to dismiss the extravagance of religious iconography. At the time, I was only nineteen and though taking art appreciation, I was yet to appreciate art as Spiritual, as I am learning to do now. My wife, Jill, also traveled to Italy with Harding University in Florence program. She, however, saw Pope John Paul II.
Yesterday, Jill gathered our children around her scrapbook (she had not pulled it out in years) and showed them the photo she had taken when the pope walked past her in St. Peter’s. Our children want to know why the pope is so important, why all the attention is on his death right now. We talked about how he's the leader of one billion people, their church, and he is in the line of many who have decided important things about what Christians have believed about Jesus and his mission. Yet, we temper it with our own understanding of the priesthood of all believers, the message of Hebrews, the way we are shepherded by loving elders in our lives today. Though we are not "told" what to believe by the pope, his office has still influenced what we believe over the years and I would venture to say, still does. His stands make a difference to many beyond the Catholic faith, in what they come to believe for themselves. Here is the photo Jill took of John Paul II in 1987 in St. Peter's Basilica.
A few years ago I took a course that centered on Historical Theology. That means the study of doctrines as they have emerged through Christian history. For the first time, I considered the importance of theological decisions, good and bad, of important leaders in the church over the last two millennia. For the first time I came to grips with the idea that perhaps the Catholic Church’s concern for accurately and theologically interpreting Scripture was at its heart, like mine, but lived out and structured much differently. One central role of the pope through the ages has been to safeguard doctrine.
The Catholic Church and the Church Fathers developed much of the understanding that many of us take for granted today: for example, the doctrine of Jesus Christ, that he is God and man, that he was not created but that all was created through him. Yes, Scripture on who Jesus may seem clear to us today, but remember that Scripture was not widely distributed and translated into many languages until after the Reformation. Many centuries of debate, martyrdom and struggle came over this belief about the Christ.
This is not a thesis in support of hierarchy or non-Catholics following the pope, but it is an exercise in thinking through how the church through the ages, and today, has influenced and continues to influence us, both negatively and positively.
Though I’ve lived through three papacies, Pope John Paul II has defined what a pope is and does for a billion Catholics and for the rest of the world. He was very conservative on most issues but no other pope had traveled and perhaps few others had advocated for the poor like he did. He traveled to 129 countries. When he visited Africa, many non-Catholics wanted to see him, hear him say, "Do not be afraid."
Pope John Paul II set the tone for how widely a modern pope is expected to travel and bring a message of hope and love for humanity through Jesus Christ. He did not stand down against leaders, from Reagan to Bush, on the call for peace. He is credited for a major role in the fall of communism and the movement in Poland. Yet, he also perpetuated a hard-line role against contraception, even as a protector against HIV, which gravely impacts poor nations in their fight against AIDS. He also remained firm on celibacy and unmarried priesthood, which many believe should change, particularly in light of the sex scandal of the American Catholic Church.
I was not raised to revere or honor the pope. Too much of the priesthood of all believers, calling no one “father” and perhaps influence of democracy had surged through my veins to think much about the pope. I was not even “Protestant,” those who protested against Rome and how they were raising money for the Vatican by charging indulgences for absolution of sin and eternal damnation and other corruption. I came from a “free” church. Free of hierarchy, free to choose (sounds more like economics), free to interpret Scripture (as long as it fit within certain pre-set and unwritten parameters).
Twenty-six years ago, my memory of the choosing of Pope John Paul II was the smoke billowing out of the Vatican near the Sistine Chapel where the Cardinals were meeting for the Conclave. Then, several years into the papacy of John Paul II, I went to Italy and visited several cities, including Rome. The Vatican is one of the most jaw-dropping places in the world. Walking into St. Peter’s Basilica and the amazement of seeing Michelangelo’s Pieta
grows in me still today, eighteen years later. Again, I was pre-disposed to dismiss the extravagance of religious iconography. At the time, I was only nineteen and though taking art appreciation, I was yet to appreciate art as Spiritual, as I am learning to do now. My wife, Jill, also traveled to Italy with Harding University in Florence program. She, however, saw Pope John Paul II.Yesterday, Jill gathered our children around her scrapbook (she had not pulled it out in years) and showed them the photo she had taken when the pope walked past her in St. Peter’s. Our children want to know why the pope is so important, why all the attention is on his death right now. We talked about how he's the leader of one billion people, their church, and he is in the line of many who have decided important things about what Christians have believed about Jesus and his mission. Yet, we temper it with our own understanding of the priesthood of all believers, the message of Hebrews, the way we are shepherded by loving elders in our lives today. Though we are not "told" what to believe by the pope, his office has still influenced what we believe over the years and I would venture to say, still does. His stands make a difference to many beyond the Catholic faith, in what they come to believe for themselves. Here is the photo Jill took of John Paul II in 1987 in St. Peter's Basilica.
A few years ago I took a course that centered on Historical Theology. That means the study of doctrines as they have emerged through Christian history. For the first time, I considered the importance of theological decisions, good and bad, of important leaders in the church over the last two millennia. For the first time I came to grips with the idea that perhaps the Catholic Church’s concern for accurately and theologically interpreting Scripture was at its heart, like mine, but lived out and structured much differently. One central role of the pope through the ages has been to safeguard doctrine.
The Catholic Church and the Church Fathers developed much of the understanding that many of us take for granted today: for example, the doctrine of Jesus Christ, that he is God and man, that he was not created but that all was created through him. Yes, Scripture on who Jesus may seem clear to us today, but remember that Scripture was not widely distributed and translated into many languages until after the Reformation. Many centuries of debate, martyrdom and struggle came over this belief about the Christ.
This is not a thesis in support of hierarchy or non-Catholics following the pope, but it is an exercise in thinking through how the church through the ages, and today, has influenced and continues to influence us, both negatively and positively.
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