And Advent Begins

Hebrews 1:2  "In these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, and through whom also he made the universe."

Place yourself back in time.  Imagine, no books have been written about Jesus yet, and in fact the thing we know of as the New Testament isn't even a remote thought in anyone's mind. A few copies of letters about The Way are floating around, back and forth among the church leaders in the towns and cities of the empire.  There's also a copy of Jesus' sayings, though you have no idea that someday people named Matthew and Luke will use this as a source for their own gospels.  Those classic accounts have yet to be written. There is no liturgy, no hymnal, no church hierarchy, in fact, no solid body of teachings…in your world there’s just you, your group of believers, and a few itinerant preachers, wandering the Mediterranean.

You’re Jewish.  You’ve given up everything to follow this idea of Jesus the Christ.  Your parents disowned you.  Your synagogue made it clear they don’t want to see your face again.  People who used to do business with you now actively ignore and malign you. 

The Roman occupiers don’t see a big difference between Jews and the new Christians, but they don’t trust your movement anyway.  Something about it seems seditious to them.  So you worship underground, sometimes literally so.  And given the circumstances some days come when you wonder if you’re just a fool for believing in this man who said he was coming back again someday.

And then, one day, you hear a sermon at one of your gatherings.  This is a special sermon, one circulated among the church leaders and written by some great preacher, though already people are unsure of who wrote it.  You hear some people guess it was Apollos.  You've never met him but you know he has a reputation for eloquence.  A few people wonder if it was written by Paul.  You've never met him either but you've heard he is a learned man.  Either way, it's largely unimportant to your fellow Christians who wrote this message, you all just know it is something special.  And moreover, though there are already a lot of gentile Christians, this sermon is meant for you, a Jew.

In the past God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, and through whom also he made the universe.

You feel a chill to hear the speaker just come out and talk like this.  He is explaining exactly what makes this faith different, and why it cannot be reconciled with Judaism as you grew up knowing it.  He explains, right here, why everyone who you know and love has turned against you.  These are the words of a spiritual revolution.  To truly believe them is an act of rebellion against all you have ever known.

But the preacher is bold.  He has this gift you’ve been hearing about called the Holy Spirit. You’re a Jew, so you know of the ruach, the spirit of God, but this is something more personal, more real, more immediate.  You don’t really understand it but you certainly know it is real.  Its power cannot be denied.  And is shivers in the bold voice of the speaker as he declares the divinity of this man:

The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word.

You were raised in a mad, mad world, full of violence and oppression. Growing up, you weren't a brilliant scholar of the Torah, but you learned a lot of it, and certainly enough to know the history of your people, where they had been, what they had been, and what had become of them over time. Many times in your youth, and now as well, you were dogged by questions.  If God’s people had sinned so badly that they were now in this sad predicament, how could they ever get out of it?  How could the people ever atone and win God’s favor back?  Was it even possible?  Did God even care anymore?  Was He simply tired of Israel?  Had He turned His back on His nation?

So when you had first heard about Jesus you were skeptical, but your interest was piqued.  You're reminded now of that first flush of hope but also of amazement; aamazement, that a man could provide purification for sins, and then go to Heaven and be there to speak for us.  The preacher mentions it as a matter of fact, but it still awes you.

After he had provided purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty in heaven.

And he keeps saying things that rock the foundations of your world.  Things your parents would curse at you for saying:

So he became as much superior to the angels as the name he has inherited is superior to theirs. For to which of the angels did God ever say, “You are my Son; today I have become your Father”?  Or again, “I will be his Father, and he will be my Son”?

The preacher uses bits of scripture to point to Jesus, and it makes a lot of sense to you, but to so many outside the walls of your little house church it just sounds like heresy and blasphemy.  The very Psalms themselves are used to prove the speaker’s point, and you shudder to think that the Lord the psalmist spoke of would have been this man who was executed on a cross.

Yes, step back in time and hear these words as they once were heard. Your world has been shaken, your past ripped from you and transformed into mere prelude; all your faith changed, energized, and challenged...and the sermon has only just begun.  By the end of the hour you will be in tears and your limbs shivering, because you are accepting the unacceptable; believing the unbelievable.  God became man, and died for your sins, and waits for you in heaven.  

These are not mere words on a page. These are not mere pages in a book.  This is the spoken message about the Word, the Logos, the very breath of God Almighty.  This is the first flush of hearing the message and believing it.  If you want to comprehend Advent, you have to understand that.  You have to live it, or re-live it.  You have to go back in time, put yourself in that frightening, exciting place, and believe.

Two or Three...or One

Matthew 18:20  "For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them."

Oddly enough, I've never been particularly comfortable with this verse, as benign as it appears.  Whenever I have heard it I have wondered, What about when I am alone?  It may seen naive or nitpicky to think that but really, is Jesus saying here that he is only present with us when we are in community?

Considering it though, I find my comfort in the word, "with."  When I consider my relationship with Jesus, I don't think of him being "with" me so much as "in" me.  We may say things like, "He walks with us," but when it comes right down to it I carry Jesus in my heart -- he's not sitting in the chair over there or something.  He abides in me, not in the next room.  So perhaps that's all there is to it -- Christ is "in" me, and yet when I am with other believers, he is "with" us.

I've read that the Mishnah, a set of ancient rabbinic teachings and expositions, tells us that, "If two sit together and there are words of the Torah between them, the Shekhinah [the presence of God] rests between them." Jesus obviously knew this saying from the oral traditions that eventually made up the Mishnah, and here gives it new meaning and a new dynamic by essentially proclaiming himself to be that presence of God.  Seen in that way, we realize that this simple sentence would have been earth-shaking to his original audience.

One concrete example of this concept comes to mind immediately, and that comes from the Prophet Daniel.  In Chapter Three of Daniel, we are told about how members of the court basically tricked King Nebuchadnezzar into having three talented young Hebrew men executed -- Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.  They were thrown into a blazing furnace despite absolute innocence, but they placed their trust in God, saying:

“King Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.” 

Once they were in the fire the king was amazed to see, not only that they did not burn, but that a fourth person was in the midst of the furnace with them. Convinced that an angel, a god -- or The God -- was in the furnace protecting the three young men, Nebuchadnezzar had the men brought out and he praised the God of Israel. 

In much more mundane situations we can have the confidence of knowing that when we are together in God's name, Jesus is indeed there amongst us, protecting us and guiding us.  He is as present with us as he was with his disciples two millennia ago.  If we don't hear his voice or see his face, that is not his fault, but our own.

Getting Priorities Straight

Luke 12:15b  "One's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions."

Recently we drove to a church in a nearby town for a meeting.  Over one hundred years old, that building is one of the grand structures that harken back to a time when many churches were spacious, ornate, and majestic. It was a symbol of the heyday of the old Mainline churches.  Inside, we were struck by the soaring ceilings, lustrous woodwork, intricate stained glass, and numerous "extras," such as giant wooden pocket doors which could be lowered from the ceiling as dividers.  A towering pipe organ took center stage behind the pulpit, and everywhere were paintings and other artwork.


And yet a placard ff to the side bore witness to the reality of this beautiful place.  "Last Sunday Attendance: 56"  This grand structure, with a balcony big enough to accommodate entire congregations, was simply limping along as a shadow of its former self. 


Don't get me wrong, art and architecture have an important role to play in the life of the church.   I am no iconoclast.  It is important for churches to display art and utilize architecture that instructs and inspires, and I can be just as awestruck as the next person by the grandeur of such a church.  Nevertheless, standing in this place, one imagines a time when the emphasis was on the edifice, not on the spirit within it.  Small town money was poured into this project during the Gilded Age, while not nearly as much was invested in the building and upkeep of souls.  Along one wall the original blueprints of the church, laminated and carefully hung in layers, are on display.  It's as if to say herein lies our solid footing -- in a cold, unyielding architect's draft.


Isn't it easy for us to treat our own lives in the same way?  We measure success and stability on the basis of material gain, something that can easily be lost, destroyed, or left behind.  Almost all of us fall into the trap, forgetting that Jesus and his disciples had nothing to speak of in terms of money or possessions.  Yet the pull is a heavy one and the temptation to think this way comes from every corner.


After Jesus states in Luke, “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions,” he follows up with a parable:

And he told them a parable, saying, “The land of a rich man produced plentifully, and he thought to himself, ‘What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?’ And he said, ‘I will do this: I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.”’ But God said to him, ‘Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ So is the one who lays up treasure for himself and is not rich toward God.” 

Jesus' point is that the rich man was foolish to rely on his abundant wealth alone.  When death comes, possessions are entirely unimportant, and priorities are switched.  When his death came all the man's savings had done no good.  He would not be judged by his acquisitions but by his life.  Jesus isn't saying that saving resources for the future is bad, but he is pointing out that all our goods have a finite purpose.  It is spiritual richness that should be our priority.


It should be instructive for us that the most vital churches in our world are in fact our poorest.  Suburban megachurches may attract a lot of people, but the truest spirit of Pentecost is found in half-built structures without chairs or running water, found in parts of the world where "want" and "need" take on different meanings than we normally experience in America.  There, people walk miles to church, stand for hours, and give of meager resources all because of a fiery love of God.


There is no doubt that the beautiful church we saw has produced and nurtured some true saints over time.  Yet I almost feel sorry for those who worship there week by week.  They are distracted by man-made beauty which far too often obscures the true, more perfect beauty of the Savior.
 

The Error of Their Ways

Matthew 22:29  "Jesus replied, 'You are in error because you do not know the Scriptures or the power of God.'"

I always say that the Church is its own worst enemy.  With all of the tasks left undone in this world, with all the lost people walking the streets and all the evil rampant across the globe, the Church too often spends its time and energy wrapped up in the silliest, most ignorant issues and arguments.  Sometimes the only possible explanation to what we see happening is that Satan himself is moving the in-fighting along, and accentuating piddling details that are almost designed to divide.


Not that church people -- and especially church leaders -- are free of guilt in these instances.  Far from it, if people had a sufficient focus upon the true Gospel message, then these issues would not ruin our work.  We must be a true exasperation to God when we bicker with each other over fine points of doctrine and praxis [how we go about things].  But even worse, we must surely enrage him when we stymie others by imposing our own silly laws upon them, judge them by Pharisaical standards, and all-in-all pretend to play God.


During Bible study a couple of weeks ago conversation turned to a time in the Nazarene denomination when legalism had crept into the church and become a defining mark of its character.  Open-toed shoes, television sets, and going to the prom were sinful things that God apparently forgot to mention when handing Moses the tablets.  In diving into the minutiae of people's outward appearance and  in declaring them too susceptible to the devil's snares to dare exposure to the culture around them, the church floundered about while the moral compass of the world most needed its vision.  Entire congregations awoke in the '80s to a new world where everything they believed was challenged, and where Americans by the millions were utterly uninformed about the love of God.  Why?  Because Satan had blinded them to their real work in this world.  This was the reality for most of the so-called evangelical churches of the United States.  They experienced incubated evangelism at best.


But there's nothing new about all this.  Think back to these Sadducees, wise and learned, asking Jesus a theoretical question about a woman whose husband dies, and then the next husband, and then the next, until she goes through seven altogether (all of whom are brothers, which is creepy enough, but that's a different subject).  So in the time of the resurrection, they ask, whose wife will she be?


Jesus dismisses their question and dismisses them as well.  "You are in error," he says, "because you do not know the Scriptures or the power of God."  They spent their time on asking questions that only showed a lack of imagination about God.  In heaven, and in the resurrection, things will be perfect, and so these humanly issues will not exist.  How they will be handled is not our business.  God knows, and that should be sufficient for us.  


We still have such thinkers today, heading up our churches, asking questions about things that are below God.  They forget that they are not called to argue over fine points and silly questions, they are called to spread the Gospel. For instance, they forget that the Great Commission says, "Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit;" it doesn't also say to bicker over what Jesus means by "baptize," nor does it say to fidget over whether making disciples of all nations is a form of colonialism.  No, Jesus is more straightforward than that.


Worse though are those insular church leaders -- clergy or laity -- who feel so secure in their place at God's table that they think they can make the rules for who gets to eat there with them.  Though we are of course called to discern right from wrong, we are not called to burden other believers with our personal judgements at every turn.  We can become so obsessed by the perceived peccadilloes of our brothers and sisters that we forget the overarching needs of this world.  As Thoreau put it, "Men will lie on their backs, talking about the fall of man, and never make an effort to get up."  And so it is with the church leader who lacks the pastoral graces.  His fruit is acidic, and he works not for God, but against him.  He is one of a type that pushes people away from God's grace instead of drawing them inwards.  The Gospel is bigger than them -- so much so that it will consume them in the final refining fire, for they are the chaff of this world.


"If anyone causes any of these little ones who believe in me to sin," Jesus says in Mark 9, "it would be better for him to be thrown into the sea with a large millstone tied around his neck."  Indeed, how many young Christians have been turned away by a hypocrite who saw the speck in their eye but not the plank in their own, and would have rather seen their soul condemned than to see them sitting in their church?  Thankfully, this is the exception, not the rule, but for those who have faced the church at its ugliest, where is the direction?  It is in knowing that the Church is bigger than a building or a single set of people.  It stretches across time and space and at its best it exists in the heart of Christ himself, to whom there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female.  He is the only person, in the end, we really need to answer to, and his judgement can already be conveyed by the Spirit.  Jesus is God of the living, not of the dead.  So where we encounter dead Christians, who are no longer stirred by the Gospel but instead by gossip, let us leave them to their own devices.  God has work for us to do.  Let's arise and move forward.

Joy in the Morning

Psalm 30:5  "Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning."

I have always been a night owl, and it is easy for me to stay up until two or three in the morning.  I am fortunate to be one of those persons who can function well on just three or four hours of sleep for days in a row, and in fact I find that too much sleep makes me groggy and unfocused.  So given all of this it should come as no surprise that I have had plenty of experience with "all-nighters."  Even now
in my late thirties I stay up all night at least a couple of times per year.  The spring semester of my last year in divinity school, when I was 30, I had ten all-nighters in about a six week period.  That was a bit much, but an occasional night spent working away at something isn't a big problem for me at all.

This verse from the Psalms has always seemed beautiful to me but I never fully understood it until I put it in terms of an all-nighter.  As a night owl, the morning is my least favorite time of day.  I drag myself out of bed and slowly get back into the day's action.  I envy those people who can get up at dawn and hit the ground running, because I'm certainly not one of them.  Because of my aversion to mornings I also find them depressing.  So if something is deeply bothering me I don't find myself imbued with a bright and shiny attitude when I awake -- not at all -- if anything I feel more fear and anxiety as I wake up than at any other time in the day.  It is then that I feel the most vulnerable and the least prepared to deal with life's troubles.  So where is the joy?

But thinking more deeply not just about the verse, but about the entire psalm, I realize that David, the psalmist, wasn't just talking about life's anxieties. He was talking about those rare and horrible times that force us into an entire night's worth of worry and despair, those times when our soul most pitifully and helplessly cries out to God. 

To you, O Lord, I cry,
   and to the Lord I plead for mercy:
“What profit is there in my death,
   if I go down to the pit?
Will the dust praise you?
   Will it tell of your faithfulness?
Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me!
   O Lord, be my helper!”

David knew those times. He feared for his life, he felt utter abandonment, he broke God's own laws and knew contrition.  He had been through it all in his life.  And he knew that despite the immense pain and agony that life can produce, our God can wipe it all away and replace it with joy:

You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
   you have loosed my sackcloth
   and clothed me with gladness,
that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent.
O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever!

And yet the most famous night anyone in the Bible ever spent without sleep did not turn out this way.  When Jesus prayed through the night in the Garden of Gethsemane, sweating drops of blood in his anguish, he was not rewarded with a joyful daybreak.  He was instead faced with arrest, slander, beatings, and crucifixion.  And here again we see another example of how Jesus Christ went through suffering so that we may have those moments of God's grace, those mornings where we are freed from the shackles of our sinful world and provided a glimpse of God's love and glory.  For let us remember that the verse above is but half a verse; the entire verse makes it clear that what David fears here is not an earthly power or an earthly problem, but God's own anger.  From that, through Jesus' death, we can also be preserved...

For his anger is but for a moment,
   and his favor is for a lifetime.
Weeping may tarry for the night,
   but joy comes with the morning.

Melting the Mountains

Psalm 97:1, 5-6  "The LORD reigns, let the earth be glad; let the distant shores rejoice... The mountains melt like wax before the LORD, before the Lord of all the earth. The heavens proclaim his righteousness, and all peoples see his glory."

Ever since I was young I always enjoyed the hymn, "This is My Father's World."  It's a bouncy tune [I'm displaying my ignorance of music by using a term so non-technical as "bouncy"] with vivid imagery and a hopeful, positive quality.  But it dawned on my today that the concluding line is from a psalm that portrays God as anything but, well, bouncy.  "God reigns; let the earth be glad," the concluding line of the hymn, is indeed the first line of Psalm 97.  And though the psalm tells us to rejoice, it goes on to present horrifying imagery:

Clouds and thick darkness surround him;
   righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne.
Fire goes before him
   and consumes his foes on every side.
His lightning lights up the world;
   the earth sees and trembles.
The mountains melt like wax before the LORD,
   before the Lord of all the earth.
The heavens proclaim his righteousness,
   and all peoples see his glory. 

Theologically uninformed people often go around talking about "the God of the Old Testament," as if that God were indeed a different one than the God of Jesus and Christianity.  In fact, one of the Church's earliest heretics, the second-century bishop Marcion, taught basically this exact same thing -- that the Old Testament was about one God, and the New Testament was about another.  We know (or should know) that this is not the case.  But it is still hard to reconcile the imagery of these verses with our view of a gentle God, such as the hymn itself praises:

This is my Father's world,
the birds their carols raise,
the morning light, the lily white,
declare their maker's praise.

But look again, after the destructive language of Psalm 97 -- mountains melting like wax, foes consumed by fire -- we see the hope:

Zion hears and rejoices
   and the villages of Judah are glad
   because of your judgments, LORD.
For you, LORD, are the Most High over all the earth;
   you are exalted far above all gods...
Light shines on the righteous
   and joy on the upright in heart. 

One can't help but be reminded of Jesus' words in Luke 21, "When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near." This psalm is eschatological, it has to do with the end of time and judgment, whether a literal end of time or a moment of redemption for the people or Israel.  Either way, the psalm is to be seen as one of hope, that even when things are at their worst for the people of God, we can remember that God always has the last word, and he is powerful enough to handle anything that comes against us.  If mountains can't stand in his way, if his lightening lights up the world, then when he is on our side, what can come against us in the long run?

And as bouncy as the hymn may sound, it concludes with the very same message, because Jew or Christian, Old Testament or New, the One God rules heaven and earth, and of that we can rejoice indeed:

O let me ne'er forget
that though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father's world:
why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King; let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let the earth be glad!

Overcome the World

John 16:33b  "In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart!  I have overcome the world."

The more I look at this verse the more I think, really, is there any greater understatement in the Bible than the words, "In this world you will have trouble"?  Yet this understatement is immediately followed by an overstatement: "I have overcome the world."

"I have overcome the world."  What a claim.  What a comfort.  If we can truly believe it, it can make all the difference.

The last few months I've been reminded over and over again of the lines from a Fleetwood Mac song:

Can the child within my heart rise above?
And can I sail through the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life?

I suppose the [eventual] encroachment of 40 makes such lines more poignant.  Nevertheless, we all ask these sort of questions at all manner of times in our lives.  At any age, in any situation, as we face the troubles this world has in store, we want to know, can I handle it?  How can I handle it?  How can I navigate the waters and deal with the changing seasons?  Where will I get the wisdom?  Where will I get the strength?

The answer to the questions posed by the Landslide lyrics is, no.  You can't do it.  Or more to the point, you can't do it alone.  You can try, and you can try really hard, but on your own you don't have the wisdom or the strength to make it through.  It takes something bigger than you are.  It takes the one who overcame this world.

I have always loved Paul's encouragement that we are "more than conquerors," a phrase that reminds us that in Christ we can do more than conquer; we can transcend.  Imagine that: we have the power at our disposal not just to beat the enemy, but to live above him and do so for eternity. 

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:37-39)

Just attempt to fathom that list of "neither...nors":

death....life
angels....demons
present....future...powers
height...depth....anything else in all creation

None of this will separate us from God's love in Christ.  None of it.  Nothing can.  There is nothing between us and God unless we allow it to step in the way.  But we don't have to allow it. We're more than conquerors.  We can transcend anything this world has to throw at us and still find the one who made us and saves us.  It's mind-bending.

Paul also points out, "If God is for us, who can be against us?"  Well, who can?  What can?  Sure, things appear to come against us all the time, but what are these things in the scope of eternity?  What can we not overcome through God's power working for us?  We have the complete storehouse of supply at our disposal.  The God who made the world, who sacrificed his son, will surely provide what we need.

He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?

Do we have an answer?  No.  As long as we believe at all we need to also recognize that through faith, through trust, we have access to all the power of the universe, and the worries and cares and wants and needs of this sad and sorry little world are really nothing in our sight.  We are above it all.  We are more than conquerors.

But we are only more than conquerors because first, he ovecame the world.  Through his victory we also have the victory.  Claim your victory.  And praise God you can.

What Next?

Romans 1:16  "For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes."

It is Sunday, May 22, 2011.  Harold Camping is a disappointed man.  But no less so than his followers, I am sure, who spent life savings, quit jobs, severed family ties, all because they believed what Camping told them to believe: the world was going to end.....yesterday.

Well it didn't happen.  Across the nation this morning Christian preachers will remind their congregations of that simple verse which Camping conveniently ignored: "But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father."  All very well, but we knew that already.  It's easy to see Camping as either a deluded nut or an ingenious con artist.  In either case, we know he does not represent us.  Or does he?

If you're like me, your Facebook news feed has been full of jokes about the rapture for the past two or three days.  But a lot of my friends are non-Christians, and as I read their jokes, I realize they aren't just making fun of one crazy man; they are making fun of what they see as the latest Christian crazy man.  Let's face it, the media loves to latch on to the most insane and outlandish of what Christians do.  Be it a minister burning a Qur'an, a priest molesting children, a televangelist having an affair, or a wannabe prophet picking the wrong time for the Second Coming, Christianity can easily get a bad rap.  So as we wake up on the day-after-the-rapture-that-wasn't, what do we do about this dilemma?  How do we face non-Christians who think we're a bunch of crazies?

The key, as Paul makes clear, is to remember that we are very, very sane.  We have nothing to be ashamed of.  Indeed, as his one sentence makes clear, we are telling a story that is all about the power of God, and it's a story that brings salvation to those who believe it.  It frees people.  It empowers people.  It saves people.  Harold Camping doesn't speak for us; Jesus Christ does.

Yet even within that sanity, we need to be bold.  Timidity never saved anybody.  And so it was that Paul went to extraordinary lengths to spread his message, risking life, reputation, and career -- and in fact losing all three -- in order to share the Gospel.  He was sane but driven, and while some thought him mad, he was simply on fire for God, a God who had touched him personally, changed his life, made his life worthwhile, and ensured him a life ever-lasting.

So, I'm sorry for Harold Camping and the farce he has created, but don't let that stop you from discussing the real news story here.  It's ancient news, but relevant to every fresh day.  Jesus Christ was crucified, died, and rose again.  He ascended into heaven.  And someday, someday, he's coming back once more.

Looking for Life

Luke 24:5b  "'Why do you look for the living among the dead?'"

[Here's a taste of my Easter sermon at New Market and Waveland Covenant United Methodist Churches.]

The women who had followed Jesus throughout so much of his ministry had come back to his tomb on that first Easter Day to perform the duties their religion required.  But when they arrived, they were shocked to find that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance.  Entering, they were distressed to find the body of Jesus was gone.  But in the moment of their confusion, two angels appeared, gleaming like white lightening.  And then came the question that changed the course of their lives, and the course of history: "Why do you look for the living among the dead?"

Whether we know it consciously or not, we are all searching for life -- a meaning to life, joy in life, fulfillment in life...life itself.  Yet too often, we search for life among the dead.

Augustine, arguably the greatest Christian thinker, writer, and theologian outside of the Apostle Paul himself, searched long and hard for life before finding it in Jesus Christ.  His classic autobiography, Confessions, tells the story of his tumultuous youth and early adulthood.  Born in 354 to a Christian mother and a pagan father, the precocious Augustine soon went his own way, both intellectually and morally. He studied astrology, fell into the Manichaeist philosophy, and finally followed the Neo-platonist school of mysticism.  All the while he learned and taught rhetoric as an up-and-coming intellectual of the late Roman age.  Yet his youthful lifestyle was also one marked by hedonistic abandon.  After finally accepting the truth of the Christian religion in his early thirties, he struggled one day in a garden with the sins of his past, wondering if he really could be forgiven, accept that forgiveness, and move on.  At that moment he heard a little child chanting, "Take it and read!  Take it and read!"  Seeing this as a sign from God to read the first bit of scripture his eye should fall upon, he grabbed his copy of Paul's letters and turned randomly to what we know know as Romans 13:13-14:  "... not in revelling and drunkeness, not in lust and wantonness, not in quarrels and rivalries.  Rather, arm yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ; spend no more thought on nature and nature's appetites."

Augustine had been searching for years for life.  He wanted something that gave meaning and purpose to his life, and a concrete reason to live. Yet he had done his searching among the dead, and felt consistently unfulfilled.  Finally, however, he came to see Christ as the source of purpose and joy in life, and his world would never again be the same.

This world gives us plenty of false religions to follow.  Some have names and leaders, others are more nebulous, more constructs of our minds than anything else.  We can waste our time in pursuits as diverse as watching sports to following the latest fashions, elevating our avocations to the importance of sources of meaning for our lives.  We can throw ourselves into family or work, or even good deeds for others, but forget that these things, though positive, do not in and of themselves provide us with life. 

The writer of Ecclesiastes, seeking pleasure in his life, tried every route available, ranging from the building of houses and planting of vineyards to the buying of slaves and the aquisition of a harem.  Yet in the end, all these things, good and bad, brought him no real meaning in life:

I denied myself nothing my eyes desired;
   I refused my heart no pleasure.
My heart took delight in all my labor,
   and this was the reward for all my toil.
 Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done
   and what I had toiled to achieve,
everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind;
   nothing was gained under the sun.  (Eccl. 2:10-11)

Like Augustine had learned, nothing we can build with our hands or devise with our minds can provide us with life. All that we do is fleeting, and we ourselves end in death.  So, why do we seek the living among the dead?

And yet we so rarely realize this obvious reality.  Plato tells us that humans live life as if in a cave, seeing not things but only the shadows of things.  If, however, they are led to the mouth of the cave and bathed in the light of the sun, we can at long last see things as they really are.

On that first Easter day, these women found themselves standing in a cave, looking at shadows.  They had been in that cave, so to speak, for a long, long time.  And then along came an angelic presence, flooding their world with light, so that they might see things as they were at last.  Christ was not dead; he had risen.

Stop standing there, looking around an empty cave.  Stop looking for the living among the dead.  The light of truth is available to us.  If you have called yourself a Christian, start living it.  Jesus invites us to find our life in him, in him alone, and live it fully and eternally.  Remember, Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again.

Temptation


Matthew 4:1  "Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil."

From Pasolini's "The Gospel According to
St. Matthew" - 1964

In a way it seems peculiar, even cruel.  As soon as Jesus is baptized, as soon as the Spirit descends and the voice of the Father proclaims his sonship, at the culmination of that high moment, Jesus is, in a way, cast out of Eden.  From the cleansing waters of John's baptismal Galilee, Jesus is led straight to the cleansing pain of a desert encounter.  There, fasting for 40 days, alone, Jesus meets the enemy -- his and ours.  It is an assignation as planned and as unavoidable as the crucifixion, and just as mysterious.  God in the flesh, lowering himself to the state of a starving man, meets evil incarnate in a lonely place.  If ever Jesus deigned to live a human life to know and feel what we know and feel, it was here, in the desert.

Temptation is everywhere.  It takes on countless forms and it meets us every hour. From the trivial to the momentous, it surrounds our lives. Even the non-believer must grapple with temptation, and every person must find their ethical balance on a daily basis. But for the believer there is a special strength that comes from knowing that even Christ himself was tempted, seriously so, and yet conquered.  If he can do it, then we can do it also.
In the fourth century a man we now know as Saint Antony went into the desert to find God, to find himself, and to find his strength in God.  We know about him because a great church leader, Athanasius of Alexandria, wrote the story of Antony's life.  Antony was basically the first monk.  But he was more than that.  He was a champion, of sorts, who went up against the devil in hand-to-hand combat. And he won.

During the lonely nights in the North African wilderness, demons tempted and terrorized Antony with impunity.  He lived out a horror movie in his daily life, beleaguered by apparitions, physically abused by the devil's minions.  Yet he found that his faith would always save him, and that the simple mention of Jesus' name was often enough to make these visions melt. But he knew that all of us, no matter our level of maturity and no matter our walk of life, encounter persecution and temptation, and this was his advice:

The demons, therefore, if they see all Christians, and monks especially, labouring cheerfully and advancing, first make an attack by temptation and place hindrances to hamper our way, to wit, evil thoughts. But we need not fear their suggestions, for by prayer, fasting, and faith in the Lord their attack immediately fails. But even when it does they cease not, but knavishly by subtlety come on again. For when they cannot deceive the heart openly with foul pleasures they approach in different guise, and thenceforth shaping displays they attempt to strike fear, changing their shapes, taking the forms of women, wild beasts, creeping things, gigantic bodies, and troops of soldiers. But not even then need ye fear their deceitful displays. For they are nothing and quickly disappear, especially if a man fortify himself beforehand with faith and the sign of the cross.

The temptation to sin, the temptation to fear, the temptation to doubt -- all of these are external forces caused by our enemy.  God does not tempt.  He allows temptation to occur, but He does not create it.  Instead, he carries us through it. 

God also knows that sometimes we lose sight of him and fail.  Sometimes we sink into the water; sometimes we forget that He is more powerful than our enemy.  When those moments come, when we fail to live up to the standard of Jesus in the desert, God is there to remind us that He still understands, and still forgives.

In Romans 7, Paul explains his struggle with temptation:

I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good.  As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord! (15-25a)

In the Nazarene church I have heard it argued that this portion of scripture applies to those who were living under the Law, not to Christians.  Yet others interpret it as a reflection of Paul's lifelong struggle with temptation, just as we all struggle with our earthly, imperfect bodies and minds in this world.  Either way, I remember my relief, and my hope, when I first encountered these words, and realized through them that even when we fall short of the mark, Jesus' grace is still sufficient to let us start again, to stand up with dignity and move ahead.  His grace blots out our sins and our mistakes.  We face temptation every day.  Sometimes, we stumble.  But He who did not stumble loves us anyway, and is there to set us right again, time after time.

Prayer is Faith

It's been a busy week and I haven't gotten to add anything here (though some ideas are in my head).  So, to keep the blog fresh, I am at least posting a selection from a manuscript I am working on (and have been working on, for a long time). I hope you'll enjoy it:


            Prayer is faith.  Prayer transcends mere words to embrace the unspoken communication between God and the believer.  It can take the form of words, but it is first and foremost an expression of faith. 

            The disciples were perplexed, and perhaps not a little bit frightened, when they failed to drive an evil spirit out of a young boy.  The spirit, according to the boy’s father, had afflicted him most of his life, robbing him of speech, and making him fall to the ground, foaming at the mouth.  Unlike other cases, the disciples seemed unable to cast the spirit out, and a crowd was forming around them, arguing.

            Jesus came upon this scene and asked what was happening.  The father explained the situation, and pleaded with Jesus, “If you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”  In answering, Jesus explained that “Anything is possible for him who believes.”

            The boy’s father replied with words which resound even now in our ears and our hearts.  “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief.”

            Jesus went on to cast the demon out of the boy.  When the disciples later asked him why they had been unable to drive it out, Jesus’ answer was both simple and cryptic: “This kind can come out only by prayer.”

            Nowhere in the account does Jesus pray; he simply commands.  But what Jesus does which the disciples did not do, and the father could not do, was to believe.  Jesus harbored no doubts, and even as faithful as the others in this story may have been, they did not have his level of faith.  Jesus prayed to the Father simply by believing, by being in constant communion with him.  When Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, he prayed aloud, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me.  I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me.”  Jesus and the Father were never distant; they could always hear one another.  And so when Jesus prayed, it was a prayer that transcended words, for the father already knew the prayer, and was already responding.  This is a prayer that comes only through faith, pure faith.  It is a prayer which is within our grasp, but to take hold of it, we must first let go of so much else.

            Once we give ourselves up to God, prayer becomes the root of our ministry.  Only through prayer can we maintain our strength and do anything constructive for others.  Prayer is not magical, but it is miraculous.  Prayer is not part of a cause and effect formula; it transcends such logic, because prayer is faith.  Prayer is an expression of love not between, but among – among the believer, God, and all others.  I do not need to pray to God to tell him my needs or the needs of others, as if he didn’t already know.  But when I pray I am adding my love and my faith to the great communion of which Christ is the head.  My prayer does not help something happen as if I were voting or adding a brick to a wall, but instead my prayer becomes a part of the miracle that God can and will cause to occur.  That the miracle rarely appears to be extraordinary does not make it less miraculous.  Even a smile is a miracle when God makes it happen.

            The first prayer in the Bible, or the first mention of a prayer, belongs to Abraham.  After having entered Gerar he feared for the safety of himself and his wife, Sarah, so he told the people there that she was his sister, not his wife.  The king, Abimelech, took Sarah as his own.  But before he could unknowingly commit adultery, God intervened and told him the truth.  God also demanded that he give Sarah back to Abraham, and have Abraham pray for him, so that no harm would befall him.  Having given Sarah back and having made every effort to make Abraham welcome, Abraham did indeed pray to God, and God healed Abimelech and his household. 

            Abraham’s prayer was not needed in a material way in order for God to save Abimelech.  In other words, God could do as he wished, and Abraham’s prayer would not in and of itself cause God to act (or not to act).  However, Abraham’s prayer, his expression of faith, was a necessary sign of forgiveness and communion between the two men, bonding them together and bonding them to God.   The most important lesson for us is that Abraham was empowered to pray despite being at fault himself.  Having told everyone that Sarah was his sister, Abraham had made an opportunity for Abimelech to unknowingly sin.  And yet Abraham’s prayer was still valid and, in fact, God ordained it.  Our own sinful nature and our own wrong actions do not preclude us from praying, either for others or for ourselves.  In a way, that fact is part of the miraculous nature of prayer.

In praying, in exercising our faith, we move closer into the embrace of God.  Without prayer we are susceptible to our spiritual enemies. With prayer we ward off temptations and doubts.  Paul tells us to put on the full armor of God.  He calls upon us to wear the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and to wield the sword of the Spirit.  But above all this, he tells us to “pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints.”  Only through prayer can we defend ourselves against the Evil One, and only through prayer can we become worthwhile ministers to the people of God.

            Prayer is the seminal tool which we can use to care for others, for when we pray we share our very love with others through the intercession of Christ.  The greatest mistake Job’s friends made when they came to comfort him was that they did not pray for Job.  Upon arriving they were amazed by his condition and his suffering, and they sat in apparent silence with him for seven days and nights.  But nowhere are we told that they prayed for him.  Their malicious comments to him, their certainty of his guilt, were not as malignant as the fact that they did not pray.  In prayer, they would have been together; without prayer, they remained apart.  At the end of Job’s story God renounces the three friends for speaking wrongly of the Lord, and he demands their contrition.  But just as with Abraham and Abimelech, God states that Job will pray for his friends, and the prayer will be accepted.  In the end, Job himself does the only true human ministry in this story, praying for those who did not know how to pray for him.

James explains to us the power of prayer:

Is any one of you in trouble? He should pray. Is anyone happy? Let him sing songs of praise.  Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord.  And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up.  If he has sinned, he will be forgiven.  Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.  The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.

This short exhortation tells us so much.  We are to pray at all times, for our needs as well as for our joys, and for the needs of others.  We must pray in righteousness and in faith, because prayer is faith.  And, we are told, prayer works.  But perhaps James would add that the power of prayer is simply a manifestation of God’s love for us, oftentimes reflected in our love for each other.

            Paul told the Thessalonians, “Pray continually,” and he backs up this command with his own practice, telling them also, “We constantly pray for you, that our God may count you worthy of his calling.”  But what does it mean to pray continuously?  Some have implemented this command in their lives by keeping a particular prayer always on their lips – The Jesus Prayer.  But perhaps Paul’s statement is about something deeper than mere words, or even mere thoughts.  If prayer is faith, then by being always faithful, we are always in prayer.  When we place our life and spirit into the hands of God, he will open us up as a living prayer, just as the sun opens a flower in the morning to release its beauty and its scent.  Spoken prayers may come of this submission, but a deeper prayer is always in our heart, one which words cannot express. 

            After Paul, or Saul, had been stricken blind on the road to Damascus, he prayed.  Simultaneously, the Lord called to a man named Ananias is a vision.  God’s command to Ananias is startling: “Go to the house of Judas on Straight Street and ask for a man from Tarsus named Saul, for he is praying.”  For he is praying.  In seeking guidance from God, God gives Saul guidance, and he does so through the instrument of another believer.  The fabric of faith is revealed in prayer.

            Our prayers and our faith are commingled and joined with the love of God.  Paul tells the Ephesians, “Pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints.”  Our prayers are to be universal, for all persons and all situations.  Our prayers are joined with those of other believers and are recognized in heaven.  John of Patmos in his vision encountered “golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints,” and an angel with a golden censer, who was “given much incense to offer, with the prayers of all the saints, on the golden altar before the throne.”  To consider our prayers as incense before the throne of God is to put their importance and depth in an entirely new light.  They are more than messages to God, they are offerings to him.  Together, the combined prayers of all believers are the greatest, and perhaps the only, gift we are able to give to the Lord.  They represent the gifts of our love and faith, which are themselves first a gift to us from God.

Better Off Dead

Philippians 1: 21-24   "For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body."

I was reading tonight about Said Musa, an Afghan man who was arrested and faced with the death penalty for having converted to Christianity.  He has endured beatings, sexual abuse, sleep deprivation, and other horrors for the crime of choosing the Christian faith.  My understanding is that he was recently released, an outcome that was not expected.  Yet just as easily he may very well have been executed, and I am certain that his life is still in danger as it is.

At moments like this I have to contemplate just how utterly coddled I am, and most of the rest of us are, as Christians.  I hear a lot of talk about the "persecution" of Christians in America.  We have no right to use the word. 

Paul knew what it meant to be persecuted, and he knew what it meant to see beyond persecution to the promise of eternity with Christ.  He states here plainly that he yearns for the day when he can join Christ and abide in paradise, leaving the problems of this world behind.  Yet he also knows that for the fleeting moment of his life, he has a job to do, and so he grudgingly accepts his present work knowing that the future is not that far away.

How is it that a persecuted Christian, an embattled Christian, an imprisoned Christian, can stare death in the face and accept it with open arms while we, in the modern, safe, Western world, remain petrified of our end?  Why can't we grasp the fact that when we, as believers, come to the end of this life, eternity begins?  Too often we see our death as a thing to fear, when we should be seeing it as a tremendous gift.  The great Christian apologist Malcolm Muggeridge may have said it best: "I rejoice in it.  I love it.  If it weren't for death, life would be unbearable."

I would maintain that there is indeed a healthy form of Christian fatalism.  I say this because I also know the unhealthy form. It was a burden I carried for years, and I know I am not alone it that experience.  As a younger man I was steeped in depression, though I managed to function despite its effects.  In fact, I saw it as an inspiration, a form of impetus, and a companion of sorts.  It was that part of me that forced me to work harder and think harder in order to avoid the pain of meaningless despair.  It drove me toward a deeper spiritual journey as I sought out purpose, and it made me gain a sense of empathy for others as I felt a lingering pain in my heart almost all the time, and I therefore realized better the pain others feel. 

As I struggled with depression, I found myself realizing again and again how much I yearned for it to finally be over in a complete and permanent sense.  I found myself yearning for death, as it was in death that joy would finally enter my heart.  I was not suicidal, as I had no thoughts of taking matters into my own hands, but I was indeed guilty of what I have heard described as the worst of sins -- despair.

But then, out of the blue, God came to my aid.  In May 2005, I had an awakening that changed my life forever.  Here is how I described it in my journal:

I had a great epiphany last week, on the 12th I believe, while in the midst of one of my depressions.  I have long struggled with thoughts of and desires for death, and have wished many times for my death when in the midst of depression.  But after having heard the hymn "He Touched Me" on the radio, and somehow having been deeply moved, I realized that all along it had been an illusion -- it had been the devil who wanted me dead, not me.  All of this time, all of these years, my fatalism had simply been placed there in my mind by the enemy, and it was not natural to me.  I have been greatly strengthened by this realization.

I still remember standing there in my living room, awestruck, almost stricken, by this simple, seemingly obvious revelation.  But I had been blind, and then suddenly, I could see.

And what did that song say?

Shackled by a heavy burden
'Neath a load of guilt and shame
Then the hand of Jesus touched me
Now I am no longer the same.

He touched me, oh He touched me
And oh the joy that floods my soul
Something happened and now I know
He touched me and made me whole.

What I may have recalled as I listened to the radio was the fact that I had suggested this hymn for my grandmother's funeral service just a few months earlier.  After decades of bad health, she had been made whole at last.  And that was the lesson that stuck with me.  Death is not the panacea, but it is the reward.  For people of faith it is indeed to be hoped for, looked forward to, but it must never usurp the work of the present day.  It must never usurp the joy of the present day.  Paul knew this full well.  His rest would come in time; until then he had God's work to do.  And God would be with him on the journey.

The key to dealing with death is to see it for what it is, the final door to total life.  I truly pity those who have no belief in the afterlife and who fully assume that at the moment they die, everything is over.  What kind of terrifying prospect that has to be.  I am thankful to know, in the depths of my being, that when my last moment arrives, I will be welcomed into God's own realm.  I fear the process of dying, but I don't fear death.  I know full well not to fear it at all.  In fact, as the old man said, I rejoice in it.  I love it.  If it weren't for death, life would be unbearable.

Wait For It

Habakkuk 2:3  "For still the vision awaits its appointed time; it hastens to the end—it will not lie.  If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay."

I received an e-mail from an acquaintance the other day and noticed she used this verse as her signature line.  It made me think.

The prophet Habakkuk explores a question that crosses all of our minds on occasion: why do the righteous suffer while evil-doers seem to prosper?  As he puts it in his petition to God, "Why do you idly look at traitors and remain silent when the wicked swallows up the man more righteous than he?"  Certainly, Habakkuk is far from alone in the history of the world in asking God such a question.

So God tells Habakkuk to write down the vision he is about to receive and to share it, and then God guarantees the validity of the vision.  God basically goes on to say that the proud and the evil will be laid low, but this one verse reminds us that it will all take place in God's time.

Habakkuk's theme is justice delayed.  There is something in human nature that yearns for fairness, for justice.  Even little children, almost instinctively, understand when they or others are not being treated fairly.  They can grasp the concept of injustice, even if they cannot place a name on it.  Adulthood does not change that; we want things to be right and fair, and when they aren't, something deep within us is stirred.  Being a Christian does not change this instinct.  Indeed, it may even heighten our desire for fairness and, more specifically, for justice.  Yet what is justice but the desire for vindication?  We want assurance that we are in the right, assurance that evil will not triumph, assurance that the scales aren't rigged. 

Job is an excellent example of the desire for justice.  Left in misery and disgrace for no apparent reason, Job cries out for God to set things right.  His friends insist he has surely sinned, for why else would he be suffering except as a result of God's justice?  Yet Job knows he is an innocent man, and he must rely on God to prove it.  "I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth." (19:25)  And in Revelation we see that even in the heavenly realms this yearning is not erased, and not even assuaged:

When he opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain because of the word of God and the testimony they had maintained. They called out in a loud voice, “How long, Sovereign Lord, holy and true, until you judge the inhabitants of the earth and avenge our blood?” Then each of them was given a white robe, and they were told to wait a little longer, until the number of their fellow servants and brothers who were to be killed as they had been was completed. (6: 9-11)

Like Job, like Habakkuk, like the martyrs, we call out to God for justice.  God's reaction to our need is twofold.  First, it is to reassure us that justice will come.  Second, it is to relieve us of the burden altogether.  "Vengeance is mine, I will repay," says Romans 12: 19.  Habakkuk comes to God with the question, when will you give the evil what they deserve?  God reassures him that the time is coming soon.  But further, the New Testament teaches us that we need not concern ourselves with the question of revenge.  It does not belong to us; it is not our job.  It is not our burden.

But there seems to be even more to this single verse as well, a larger, fuller promise. "The vision awaits its appointed time."  If this vision, given by God, is true and ensured, so too are all the visions given by God, to prophets, to patriarchs, and indeed to each of us.  Each time we feel the Spirit touch us with a promise, we can know with full confidence that God will act.  His promises never fail.  Remember this beautiful assurance from Joshua 21:45 -- "Not one word of all the good promises that the Lord had made to the house of Israel had failed; all came to pass."  Over the years I've had those moments when a fervent prayer was answered quietly with a promise, a promise that in the end it would be alright, that the answers would come, that God was moving.  These "visions" are as full of truth, as inviolable, as any vision given by God to a great Hebrew prophet.  You, I, Habakkuk, Job, Isaiah, Elijah, Daniel, Moses, Abraham...Peter, Paul, John...we all share the same perfect, omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent God.  When God speaks, when the still, soft voice comes, no matter who we are, no matter what our place, no matter what our problem, the promise is the same -- God will fulfill his word, and the vision will hold true, in God's time.  Just wait for it.

Lay Down Your Anger

Jonah 4:4  "But the LORD replied, 'Is it right for you to be angry?'"

I love the Book of Jonah.  How many stories in the history of literature can say so much about the human condition in a mere two pages the way that Jonah does?  In Jonah we meet ourselves.  No matter where we are in our relationship with God, if we reflect closely we will find shades of who we are in this short tale.  Maybe we are haughty and feel superior to others.  Maybe we are full of pride.  Maybe we question God.  Maybe we are running away from God.

And maybe we are angry.

One of the first sermons I ever wrote, back when I was 24 or so, was on Jonah.  I spoke about how pride was the central issue of the book.  But looking at it again, I think pride shares the spotlight here with anger.  They feed off each other.  Jonah is told to preach to the Ninevites, whom he hates, and so in his anger at them he flees, thinking God has made a mistake.  When his experience at sea frightens [not "humbles"] him into submission, he comes back and does as God has told him.  But then he sits down in anger, as he knows God is forgiving his enemies.  His anger has transferred from the Ninevites to God himself.

And so God asks him, "Have you any right to be angry?"  Then he gives Jonah shade from a vine to comfort him, and almost as quickly allows the vine to die, angering Jonah even more.  "Do you have a right to be angry about the vine?" God asks.  "I do," Jonah answers.  "I am angry enough to die."

I think Jonah's answer is one of the saddest moments in all of scripture.  Jonah represents us all, and how we are able to let anger overwhelm us to such a degree that it blinds us to God's ability to love and to forgive.  It points to perhaps the worst aspect of our fallen nature, and to the chief means by which the enemy uses us as pawns in his game.  Anger can overwhelm us, disfigure us, and ultimately destroy us.  If we cannot identify and understand our anger, and ultimately let it go, then we are living our lives at great risk.

Yes, there's no getting around anger.  And it has its place.  Perhaps the most overly prooftexted passages of the New Testament are those regarding Jesus's cleansing of the Temple, which occurs in all four Gospels (a rarity in and of itself).  Seeing the money-changers in the Temple, "Zeal for his house consumed him," and Jesus began turning the tables, literally.  Of course, even the Book of Jonah shows us God's anger.  The entire tale only takes place because Ninevah's wickedness had caused God to act.  God was angry.  We, too, are prone to anger and sometimes it is justified and even necessary.  A person who could not feel anger would not be a super-saint, but instead a mere automaton.

But what Jonah knows about God is this: "You are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love."  Jonah knows this, but he doesn't realize he should learn from God's example.  Neither do we, most of the time.  When we allow our anger to live in us, to fester, and to grow, we lose sight of God.  In time we worship our anger instead of God.  It becomes our motivation, it robs us of our judgement, and it poisons everything we touch.

If you've ever lived with anger, or, if you've ever lived with someone who lives with anger, you know how divisive and destructive it can be.  When Saul first became jealous of David, and then angry with him, he did not have the good sense, nor the spiritual maturity, to leave that anger behind.  Instead, he let it grow until it consumed him.  In 1 Samuel 24, when David has the chance to kill Saul in a cave, he instead lets him go, and only begs that he wake up to the truth. For a moment, Saul realized that David was right.  But his anger came back, and in the end it left him dead on the battlefield, by his very own hand.

Hosea says of such people, "They sow the wind and reap the whirlwind." (8:7)  Unchecked anger destroys not only the life of the one carrying the anger, it destroys entire families as well. 

Yet it doesn't have to be.  We know that God tells us to lay down our sins, our troubles, and our burdens.  But we are also called to lay down our anger.  It is a stunningly heavy weight, and it is also more personal and more attached to us than any bad habit or mark from a sinful past that we may bear.  Yet we are called to lay it down.  It may not seem easy, or even possible, but remember, with God's help anything can happen.  Think of what anger does and how it controls us.  Think of how it divides us from others and from God himself.  Think of how it torments us, warps us, and even owns us.  If you recognize these things, remember it doesn't have to be this way.  Let it go, let your anger go at last.  Lay it down and walk away. 

Submit to Serve

Ephesians 5:21  "Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ."

People talk about the "hard words of Jesus," but there are even harder words from Paul.  Without a doubt among the most difficult selections from Paul's letters for the modern reader is the set of verses from Ephesians 5 and 6 that begin with this innocuous sentence.  Why?  Because following these words, Paul tells wives to submit to their husbands.  He tells children to obey their parents.  And he tells slaves to obey their masters.  He says a lot of other things here, too, but without a doubt much of his teaching in this passage is difficult for the modern Western reader to accept.

What does it mean to submit?  According to one source, our English word comes from  the Latin verb, submittere, "to yield, lower, let down, put under, reduce."  And that word in turn comes from sub, meaning "under," together with mittere, meaning "let go, send" (think of "mission").  Of course, Paul was not using the Latin word in writing his letter, but since it is the source of our own word, it is important to know where the English word "submit" comes from.

Submitting is not something we find easy to do.  Indeed, it goes against our very instincts to submit.  But then again, the Christian faith has little to do with following your natural instincts -- it involves transcending them.  Last night in the church Bible study I lead we came across this set of verses and had some very good discussion about it.  As for the specifics of what Paul discussed -- regarding such controversial things as men and women, slaves and masters -- it is important to point out the realities of his era, and to realize that Paul was drawing Christian ethics into deeply embedded aspects of the wider culture of his time.  One point that Paul really doesn't address though, but which we have to address today, is what does one do when a spouse, a parent, or, let's say, an employer, isn't Godly.  How does one submit in such circumstances?  Should we even do so?

Perhaps to answer that question, we need to remember the overarching statement: "Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ."  I believe the tacit meaning here is that we are to submit to one another as Christ submitted himself to others and to the Father.  Jesus is the truest example of submission in the Bible.  Despite being within the Godhead, Jesus submitted to the will of the Father and to our need by being made "a little lower than the angels" for our sakes:

Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil— and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death. For surely it is not angels he helps, but Abraham’s descendants. For this reason he had to be made like his brothers in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people. Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted. (Hebrews 2:14-18)

This is the manner of submission we are called to -- not merely doing what we are told or blindly obeying, but instead living a life of loving, caring servanthood, whereby we truly do put others above ourselves as Christ did for us. 

The seventeenth century monk known to us as Brother Lawrence exemplified this sense of submission.  He spent his years in the monastery as a kitchen attendant, and saw it not as a chore but as a wonderful means by which he could serve others and serve God.  How many of us could say, as Brother Lawrence said:

It is not necessary to have great things to do.  I turn my little omelet in the pan for the love of God; when it is finished, if I have nothing to do, I prostrate myself on the ground and adore my God, Who gave me the grace to make it, after which I arise, more content than a king.  When I cannot do anything else, it is enough for me to have lifted a straw from the earth for the love of God. (The Practice of the Presence of God)

Though his tasks were menial, brother Lawrence's lived-out expression of the Gospel, through true and unselfish submission, made him great in the eyes of those who knew him, and his witness remains for us today.

And so we are called to submit to one another, in Christian love.  And yet again, what if those closest to us are not receptive of our submission?  What if they only want to take advantage of it?  We discussed what Paul does not address -- those living in abusive homes, those living with enemies of the faith. What about such circumstances?  If there is an answer, I believe it is this:  We are always to be silent witnesses, in all circumstances, but, we are called to serve God above our service and submission to anyone else.  When we realize that a human relationship obstructs our service of God, then the time has come to leave the relationship behind.

May we have the blessing of good relationships, lived out in peace.  But may we also have the wisdom to know that submission to God comes before submission to man, no matter what.

Looking God in the Eye

Luke 22:61a  "The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter."

The song says:

I can only imagine
what my eyes will see
when Your Face is before me!

Well, what do we imagine when we picture seeing Jesus face-to-face?  There are a few very prevalent paintings that we see in images on e-mail forwards and other such places, showing Jesus embracing a newcomer to Heaven, warmly and intimately, with a radiant smile.  I always wonder, perhaps, if these sort of images over-simplify the experience we will have when we do indeed see Jesus face-to-face.  Remember, the Jesus we read about in Revelation is a far more complex and, indeed, glorious character.  He appears as a slain and risen lamb (with seven horns and seven eyes, no less), or, far more dazzlingly, as this:

I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice he judges and makes war. His eyes are like blazing fire, and on his head are many crowns. He has a name written on him that no one knows but he himself. He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is the Word of God.  The armies of heaven were following him, riding on white horses and dressed in fine linen, white and clean.  Out of his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations. “He will rule them with an iron scepter.  He treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty.  On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written:  KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS. (Rev. 19:11-16)

I think we can be sure that John of Patmos did not step up and embrace this manifestation of Jesus Christ.

Don't get me wrong, Jesus is an intimate friend and he is approachable and he is an all-loving being.  But it is important for us to remember in these modern times that Jesus Christ is also God.  He is not just a nice guy but he is a majestic, holy, and perfect being who deserves and demands our utmost respect and reverence.  For much of Christian history Jesus was not pictured as an intimate friend but as the God-man that he is. 

One of the earliest extant images of Christ, and still one of the most magnificent, is the Christ Pantocrator [meaning Christ Almighty or Omnipotent] of Sinai, which has survived for as much as 15 centuries.  In this icon we see an asymmetrical face of Christ: one side is placid and well-lit, signifying Christ's humanity, love, and forgiveness; the other side is darker, foreboding, and serious, signifying deity, judgement, and mystery.  In this early image we see a true and full understanding of the person of Christ as a majestic and holy figure.

I pity any actor who has ever had to play the role of Jesus in a film.  What an impossible challenge it must be?  How does one strike a balance between being the man whom children would flock to, and the man who could calm a storm with a single rebuke, or drive out demons in the same way?  What was it like -- imagine this -- what was it like to see the face of Jesus?  In Luke's Passion narrative, as Peter denies Christ a third time and the rooster crows, reminding Peter of his failing -- and not just a failing, but of the lowest, most wretched moment he would ever know -- Jesus turns and looks at Peter.  It is easy to focus on the proverbial rooster crow in this scene, but truly, the drama is in this glance from Jesus, whereby Peter knows full well that Jesus, the man Peter himself had declared the Christ of God, is aware of his denial.

What did Peter see in Jesus' face at that moment? What did it do to him?  Set aside the paintings and movie images in your mind and imagine the face of the God-man as he looks at Peter in pain, pity, love, and judgement, all tied together.  It is a powerful thought, a searing image.  What is more searing is to imagine that same man, facing his last day, his greatest trial, staring straight at us as we deny him.  Surely the look is the same, for it is the same Christ, and we are no better or worse than Peter, and no less a child of God.  Do we realize that Christ is indeed watching us daily, even more closely, it could be said, than he watched the apostles during his earthly life?  And in knowing this, do we imagine catching a glance of Jesus' face in our daily lives?  What look is on his face as he sees us?  Close your eyes and look into his.  And then decide what it is you plan to do about it.

God's Secrets

Deuteronomy 29:29  "'The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may do all the words of this law.'"

I've heard it said that God doesn't keep secrets.  In some degree that's true.  God is not secretive, as we can be.  He doesn't keep secrets in order to further his own agenda, or to be spiteful, or even just for fun.  He also doesn't keep anything secret from us that we really need to know.  There are no secrets when it comes to personal salvation or to treating others as we should.  Instead, God is very forthright about such things.  We may complicate these issues on our own and we may not want to hear the messages themselves, but that is our problem; God is not being secretive.

Nevertheless, God does have secrets, I believe.  Or perhaps the better word may be mysteries.  Either way, God knows things we don't know, and never will know, and probably never could know.  We have to get used to that fact.

That's not easy for people, or course.  We like to find things out, we like to learn, and we love to uncover secrets.  Even the most well-meaning, faith-driven people in the world can become obsessed with God's secrets.  Take for instance the ever-popular topic of the End Times.  The Bible gives us just enough hints about this subject to truly whet our appetite for discovery.  People have been trying for centuries to reveal the mystery, to second-guess God and to be the one who figures out when Jesus is returning (and beyond that, exactly what is going to unfold and what the divine agenda will look like).  I wonder at times if anything in the past two thousand years has so thoroughly managed to sidetrack the Christian faith and its work in this world as has our obsession with the End Times -- the Second Coming -- Judgement Day -- the Eschaton.  (And if you didn't recognize that last word, don't worry, you really don't need to.) 

Movements, denominations, sects, and splinter groups have all been created over disputes arising from this one great topic which, from what I can tell, is best left a mystery.  For all the high-minded reasoning people can have for wanting to concentrate on End Times theology and an End Times mindset, this fascination often drives us from God's mandate.  In my opinion, 90 percent of all the speculation that has gone on regarding the end of time has its root in human pride.  We want to know what will happen and when because it gives us a smug superiority over those who are going blindly from day to day without such knowledge.  Really, think about it, if you're hit by a bus tomorrow then bam, that was your last chance, right?  It doesn't matter if Jesus returns in two weeks or in two thousand years -- you're still dead and the judgement will still await you.  So why do people pretend that they are trying to "read the signs of the times" so as to help convince people to turn to God, when in reality those same people need direction no matter when the Second Coming is scheduled, as their lives -- all our lives -- are on a very short thread?  God is not secretive, but he has secrets.  It's a sign of our weakness that we can't just live with that.

But the End Times are only one example of our strivings to understand God's mysteries.  Bookstores are lines with volumes tackling topics of what the Bible really means, who Jesus really was, and whether God even really exists.  The human race has an insatiable appetite for unravelling the mysteries for which there are no earthly answers, and which therefore we cannot answer in this life.  Yet we keep on trying.  Why?  Perhaps it is that remnant of our souls that recognizes what we lost through disobedience against God, and all through our lives some part of us wants to have that familiarity back, that experience in the Garden when God's secrets were no more than the fruit of a forbidden tree.  Yet that same part of us that ate from the tree still yearns today to know what God knows, even though we don't deserve it.

Ecclesiastes 8:16-17 tells us:

When I applied my heart to know wisdom, and to see the business that is done on earth, how neither day nor night do one's eyes see sleep, then I saw all the work of God, that man cannot find out the work that is done under the sun. However much man may toil in seeking, he will not find it out. Even though a wise man claims to know, he cannot find it out.

We have to accept that God is bigger than us, greater than us, and that he is creator, we, his creation. Nowhere in the Bible is God more clear about this than in the Book of Job.  After Job's calamities, he defends himself to his friends and demands an answer from God himself.  Job is not alone in his demand.  Most people, perhaps, have demanded an answer in some time of weakness and despair.  But unlike most of us Job received an answer, in full Biblical splendor:

Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind and said:
“Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?
Dress for action like a man;
I will question you, and you make it known to me.
“Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?
Tell me, if you have understanding.
Who determined its measurements—surely you know!
Or who stretched the line upon it?
On what were its bases sunk,
or who laid its cornerstone,
when the morning stars sang together
and all the sons of God shouted for joy? (Job 38:1-7)

And God's haranguing goes on and on, putting Job in his place.  "Have you commanded the morning since your days began?"  "Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades?"  "Do you give the horse his might?"  "Can you draw out Leviathan with a fishhook?"  Job is left humbled, as are we.  The speech is clear: God's ways, God's powers, are beyond us.  We have a gift of intellect, and indeed we must use it.  God even says in Isaiah 1, "Come now, let us reason together."  God wants us to use our reason, our intellect, our mind.  But he also wants us to use that other gift he gives us -- our faith.  For we can do a great deal through intelligence, but we can do far more through faith.  Through intelligence we tap into our own power; through faith we tap into God's power.  It is in faith that we realize God's mysteries are great, but his revelation is even greater.