Thank God Anyway

Genesis 4:3-5  "In the course of time Cain brought to the Lord an offering of the fruit of the ground, and Abel also brought of the firstborn of his flock and of their fat portions. And the Lord had regard for Abel and his offering, but for Cain and his offering he had no regard. So Cain was very angry, and his face fell."

The timeless tale of Cain and Abel may not seem a self-evident lesson for Thanksgiving Day, but at the heart of this passage is, indeed, an act of gratitude. Both brothers give offerings to the Lord, an action surely motivated, at least at the beginning, by thanks for the blessings of their herds and harvests. The tragedy of Cain and Abel begins as a thanksgiving story.

And what a story it is, a tale that has been retold so many times and with so many lessons; a classic tale of brotherly strife, of envy, of sin, of consequence. Yet we know so little about the setting of the story; we are provided so few details by the author. Whether we think of that author as Moses, or as the elusive "J" of the Higher Criticism's divines, he, or she, tells us precious little. Questions arise immediately. How did Cain and Abel learn to sacrifice to God?  Had Adam and Eve done the same? Was this required by God or was it simply a spontaneous act? Did the brothers make their sacrifice together, or separately? What did these sacrifices mean to them?

Finally, the ultimate enigma arises: why did God accept Abel's gift but reject Cain's? Indeed, that remains a true question for the ages, because the writer of the passage simply does not tell us.

Ultimately, students of scripture have come up with two points of view on this question. Most of us will have heard what I might call the traditional viewpoint, which places the blame upon Cain.  This view tends to say that since we know Cain immediately turned toward murderous rage after God rejected his offering, we can surmise that Cain's heart was impure and, at the very least, ungrateful to begin with. God, recognizing this, rejects Cain's gift, while accepting that of his brother.

But there is a flaw with this view, and the flaw is that the Bible simply doesn't say this. Nothing about Cain's attitude or state of mind at the time of his offering is recorded. This reality brings about the second viewpoint, which I might call the modernist view. The modernist view starts by pointing out that if we are to take scripture seriously, we cannot make up something about the character of Cain that simply isn't there. Blaming Cain, the modernist view tells us, is an easy cop out.

Yet the modernists often go too far, switching the blame from Cain to God himself.  Take, for instance, the words of Walter Brueggemann:

The trouble comes not from Cain, but from Yahweh, the strange God of Israel.... Conventional interpretation is too hard on Cain and too easy on Yahweh. It is Yahweh who transforms a normal report into a life/death story for us and about us. Essential to the plot is the capricious freedom of Yahweh. (Genesis, 1982, p. 56)

So to the modernist scholar, God is capricious, fickle, and thus unfairly and unkindly rejects Cain and his offering in favor of his younger brother.

Both of these conclusions have a grain of truth, but both are also too simple in many ways.  After struggling with this passage, I would submit that it is in fact, ultimately, a story about giving thanks in a broken world.

We don't know what Cain's attitude was as he made his offering.  All we can do is guess at his frame of mind. We can only assume that for some reason, whatever it might have been, God did not like the gift Cain brought and rejected it,while accepting Abel's gift.  Remember, this is the fourth chapter of Genesis: That unpredictability is the reality of a world caught up in sin. That unfairness was the brothers' inheritance from Adam and Eve.

And yet...God holds forth grace.  Think about the words of verses 6-7:

The Lord said to Cain, "Why are you angry, and why has your face fallen? If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is crouching at the door. Its desire is contrary to you, but you must rule over it."

Is this not the same tone that a parent or teacher, a coach or a mentor, might take when telling a young person,"I know you made a mistake, I know you missed the mark, [maybe even] I know that you failed. But try again, and you will do better. Don't let this defeat you."

What God wanted Cain to do was to remain thankful even when things went badly for him.  In a work of fiction Cain might have learned his lesson and taken a different path.  However, this story was not destined to be wrapped up with a bow; instead, the scripture plainly admits the truth. Cain fails at the task God has set before him and instead goes on to become our ultimate counter-example - the first murderer in human history.

It would be up to another ancient man in the Old Testament to  persevere and be an example of thankfulness in the midst of a broken world.  That man was Job.  

After losing his flocks, his herdsmen and servants, his sons and daughters, Job still managed to utter these words: "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away.  Blessed be the name of the Lord."

There are few words in the Bible harder than that to say, but many of us have had to learn to say them.  In our broken world, a world of violence, injustice, pain, and death, we are still called to thank God for what we have, and for what He promises us we will have.

Many Christians are familiar with the classic devotional book, My Utmost for His Highest, by Scottish minister Oswald Chambers (1874-1917).  One line of that book has impressed itself upon me throughout the years: "If through a broken heart God can bring His purposes to pass in the world, then thank Him for breaking your heart."  How many of us have seen a new day dawn, or a new path open, because of (or despite) something in life which did indeed break our heart?  Yet how often did we remember to thank God for the journey?

Cain did not understand the bigger picture of which he was a part.  But Job did.  And more than that, Jesus did.  In this broken world, in our broken lives, hearts are broken, in many, many ways.  But thank God anyway.  Because He loves you.  And someday, He will bind the wounds, mend the scars, and accept your gift.  He will accept you, forever.

The Enemy

1 Chronicles 21:1a  "Satan rose up against Israel..."

The 21st chapter of the First Book of Chronicles contains, to say the least, a lesser-known Bible story. King David orders that a census be taken to determine the number of eligible and able fighting men in his kingdom. Doing this was unprecedented, and though it may sound completely normal to us from our modern and secular viewpoint, to David's officers this idea was blasphemy. "My lord the king," interrupted Joab, David's trusted counselor, "are they not all my lord's subjects? Why does my lord want to do this? Why should he bring guilt on Israel?"

The guilt to which Joab referred was the implication that God could not win a battle for Israel without the existence of a large and powerful army. In counting his available men, David was acting like any other king, not a king who had the King of the Universe on his side; not a king who had seen great victories through providence, regardless of strength in numbers.

God, also, was unhappy with David's actions, and sent a prophet named Gad to him with a message. To atone for his sin David would have to choose among three punishments: three years of famine, three months of defeats at the hands of Israel's enemies, or three days of plague brought by the angel of the Lord. David chooses the plague, and 70,000 died by it. David was left despondent, with the guilt of this destruction upon his own head.

This story in First Chronicles, however, begins with a very important sentence: "Satan rose up against Israel and incited David to take a census of Israel." One action, seemingly insignificant, seemingly innocuous, by Satan, and a chain of events fall into place causing destruction and despair.

No doubt, Satan has risen up against us, too. It is not the first time, and it will not be the last, but in recent weeks, months, years, Satan has risen up against America and against the world, and almost no one has noticed. The havoc he has brought about is noticed, but his hand in it all is invisible to our jaded and blinded world. We pin blame on any number of things, from guns to racism, from psychoses to socioeconomics, but the evil plaguing our world has a much more specific source: a fallen angel named again and again in holy scriptures.  Satan.

Satan is not brought up in polite society, I've noticed.  In our rational world, even those who believe in God prefer not to think about Satan and all he represents.  We concentrate on the bright side of the supernatural, conveniently forgetting that an evil lurks in the spirit world, meddling day-by-day with our existence. Yet any student of scripture encounters his obvious reality:

• Satan mocked God by questioning the goodness of Job
• Satan accused the high priest in Zechariah's vision
• Satan tempted Christ in the wilderness
• Jesus saw "Satan fall like lightening from heaven"
• Satan bound a woman with an issue of blood for 18 years
• Satan asked to sift Simon Peter like wheat
• Satan entered into Judas, causing his betrayal
• Satan caused Ananias to sin by convincing him to hide the sale of his property
• The thorn in Paul's side was a messenger from Satan
• Paul notes that Satan blocked his way during his travels
• Satan is hurled down to the earth in a vision in Revelation

Few characters in the Bible, quite frankly, are documented as thoroughly as Satan. yet even among many believers he is ignored or seen as a myth. Let's not be deceived -- Satan is real. He continues to be our enemy, and his anonymity is his greatest weapon.

Without Satan there would have been no Dallas sniper, no Minnesota shooting; there would have been no Orlando, no Sandy Hook, no Boston Marathon bombing, no September 11th, no Columbine. These and endless other acts of violence stem back, eventually, to Satan himself. We are in the midst of a horrid spiritual war, yet we do not even acknowledge the enemy. How then can we ever win?

It is high time that we as believers wake up to the existence of our common enemy, and recognize his role in the pain enveloping our world. We need to see the battle as one beyond our ability to fight or win.  We need to call upon God not merely to mend us, but to defeat the enemy who uses us against each other. We need to take heart in the words of the great hymn, which reminds us:

And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us:
The Prince of Darkness grim, we tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure,
One little word shall fell him.

The Naked Young Man

Mark 14:51-52  "A young man, wearing nothing but a linen garment, was following Jesus. When they seized him, he fled naked, leaving his garment behind."

The Gospel of Mark is by far the shortest of the four gospels.  In my Bible it covers a mere 16 pages.  Mark's style is uniquely matter-of-fact and succinct; he is not a writer prone to wavering into side stories or providing extra details for the sake of interest.  His gospel starts with action, and continues rapidly on through to its conclusion.

And yet, with all of the stories of Christ which Mark needs to convey (and indeed, there are many he doesn't convey in this short work), he still takes two of his precious verses to tell this intriguing vignette about a young man who escaped the arrest scene only by losing his clothing in the process.  Surely, this is a detail worth considering, if Mark deigned it worth recording.

Through the experience of this young man, we find an insight into understanding the situation Jesus was cast into that night.  We were not there as eyewitnesses, but we can imagine the scene and the experience through this young man's eyes.  The naked young man, surely, experienced  three things with which Jesus also contended that night: fear, shame, and loss.  

Put yourself into his situation. Though not an apostle this young man was a follower of Jesus, a dangerous role at any point, but never as much as now.  We are told that, “A crowd armed with swords and clubs” had come to arrest Jesus (v. 43).  Nothing good was going to come of this.  It was clear to all involved that this was a life or death situation. The execution of Jesus was probably a foregone conclusion, and anyone caught with him may very well suffer the same fate.

"The Betrayal of Christ," by Antonio Correggio, c. 1522

As he watches older and wiser men run away in fear, what choice does the young man have but to also flee? However, he is almost caught. Wearing only one garment, he gets away simply because he tears free of the cloth the mob members grabbed hold of.

Imagine running off into the night without a bit of clothing on you, and as a fugitive, no less.  Surely his first reaction was fear.  Where is he going to go?  What is he going to do?  You can hide a lot of things in this world; but you can’t hide being stark naked.  How will he get back to the other disciples? Where would they even have gone? Imagine the baffling situation of being on the run and also being naked.  It had to be a terrifying experience.

Yet, as he is dealing with this, Jesus is dealing with fear as well.  He knows what is coming – the beatings, the nails, the crucifixion.   Divine plan or not, Jesus still must feel it all, as a mortal man. He will die, and die a gruesome death.  What intense fear he must have felt?

Secondly,  the young man surely dealt with shame.  Ever since the Garden of Eden, nakedness has represented shame.  His primary shame would have come from his nakedness; but shame also came from abandoning Jesus in his worst hour. None of us would have done any better.

Similarly, Jesus endured shame as he was beaten and mocked. He is divine, and yet he was subjected to complete humiliation.

As the young man grappled with fear and shame, he also faced loss. He had lost his teacher, his leader, and in fact his overall purpose in life. He ran away naked, not only physically, but spiritually.  Jesus Christ, however, was losing so much more. He had lost his physical freedom, he had lost his followers, and of course it was rather clear he would soon lose his life.

We can learn from the naked young man because he acts as a bridge between us, living in comfort and safety, and the Messiah entering into that dark and fated day.  The King James Version quotes the prophet Amos as saying, “And he that is courageous among the mighty shall flee away naked in that day, saith the Lord.” (2:16)  Like all the disciples, and also like us, the naked young man was painfully human.  And yet so was Jesus Christ; painfully human, even if, indeed, divine. Nevertheless, he subjected himself to the fear, the shame, and the loss, if for no other reason than that we might avoid all three, in a better life that is to come.

A Stark Choice

Luke 23:42  "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."

In 2010 I gave a guest sermon for Good Friday.  I took as my inspiration a feature of the church we were attending – three crosses made of steel beams and holding up a bell.  I related this to a set of three crosses standing on a farm near where I grew up, and to such trios of crosses I had seen elsewhere across America over the years.

My question was this:  What would a non-Christian think of this symbol?  What do three crosses standing together signify to someone whose understanding of our faith is limited to what they hear in popular culture?  Moreover, how many people in the pews on any given Easter morning really understand what is meant by three crosses clustered together?

I like to think that most people relate the cross as a Christian symbol.  Would three crosses confuse them?  Would they think we worship three gods?  If someone had heard of the idea of “Trinity,” might they think there was a tie-in here?  Or maybe they might think that three crosses are simply better than one.

 

Greencastle Church of the Nazarene - photo by Becca Sampson

Of course, three crosses represent the story of Christ’s crucifixion, whereby two criminals were executed on either side of him.  (Luke 23:32-43)  One the criminals mocked Jesus, while the other defended him.  The two criminals, in many ways, represent all of the human race in our relationship with God.

First of all, each of us has sinned.  We all have rebelled against the laws of God.  We are all, therefore, in need of forgiveness, as judgement awaits us otherwise.

From there, however, the similarities end.  In the face of God’s existence a certain portion of the human race sneers and mocks.  To these people, even the certainty of death cannot overcome their flawed human selfishness and arrogance.  “One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: ‘Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’”

Yet others realize their frailty and their fault, and seek humility from within themselves and mercy from God.  “‘Don’t you fear God,’ he said, ‘since you are under the same sentence?  We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.’  Then he said, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’”

It is a stark and simple choice.  One leads to death, the other to life.  One comes from our human brokenness, the other stems from our yearning for grace.  One is a dead end, the other an open door.  This Lenten season, let’s remember the words of the penitent thief, that we might be assured of mercy, just as Jesus answered on that fateful day: “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

Take Up Your Cross

Matthew 16:24-25   Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”

Every time I've heard this passage discussed, Jesus' words are taken to mean giving one's life to Christ, dying to self, accepting the burdens of discipleship and self-denial, etc.  Because of this, I was jarred to read the thoughts of the eminent Oxford scholar R.T. France on these words:

Christian use of the language of "self-denial" (and even of "cross-bearing") has blunted the force of Jesus' words.  They are about literal death, following the condemned man on his way to execution.  Discipleship is a life of at least potential martyrdom.  It may be legitimate to extrapolate from this principle to a more general demand for disciples to put loyalty to Jesus before their own interests and comfort, but that can be only a secondary application of the passage.  Jesus' words are not to be taken as merely metaphorical.  The "cross" and "losing life" which he speaks of are literal, and it seems clear from v. 28 that he did expect at least some of his disciples to be killed because of their loyalty to his cause (as indeed they were)."  [NICNT: Matthew, 2007, Eerdmans, page 636]

Read this way, Jesus' statement is even harder to accept.  Taking up one's cross sounds tough enough as metaphor.  Taken literally, it becomes a completely different challenge.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer famously said, "When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die."  Every American Christian who comes across this quote prefers to read it metaphorically - we "die to Christ," leaving our old life behind in favor of following Jesus.  And that is true, but it ignores the fact that Bonhoeffer, in stark contrast to American Christians, was dragged out into the early morning April air, stripped nude, and hanged to death in the Flossenburg concentration camp at age 39.

"If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me."

We can indeed extrapolate many lessons from these words, but I think Dr. France was right. The cross was very real in this sentence.  To first century Jews such as were following Jesus, the cross was not a piece of jewelry, or a symbol on the top of buildings, or a design for art - it was and had always only been an oppressor's device for brutally murdering the oppressed.  Jesus is talking about death.  Real death.  He knows he will die by means of a cross, as will some of his followers, and many more will die by some means or another at the hands of his enemies.  Jesus the Christ does not sugarcoat.

He does, however, go on to explain why following him, even to the death, is important.  "Whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."  It is worth noting that the Greek word translated "life" here is not unfamiliar to us.  It is psychē (ψυχὴ), a word which English has since appropriated to mean the self or the soul.  It is, indeed, our all, and if we try to save our life, our psychē, for our own self, we will in fact lose it.  Only if we give up our life for the sake of Christ, whatever that might mean in our own circumstances, will be truly find life eternal.  The martyrs of the church are richer, in real terms, than any human who has ever lived.  Even every person who has ever died as a follower of Jesus enjoys a reward that makes all we could have on earth seem very small indeed.

A few days ago the world was rocked to hear news of terrorist attacks in Paris, France.  Soon after, some people began to point out, rightly, that recent attacks in Lebanon had received virtually no coverage, let alone popular attention.  No doubt one reason for this is the fact that an attack on Paris (like an attack on New York) is a signal to Western Christians that "Christendom" is no longer exempt from religious violence.  The lock that Christianity has had over the Western Hemisphere is slowly slipping away.  The dozens killed in Paris were not killed because they were Christian (indeed, their killings were random and anonymous), but they represented the Christian West  to the Islamic terrorists responsible.  

We in the West are only now beginning to recognize what our brothers and sisters outside of classical Christendom have known for centuries.  In Asia, in the Middle East, in Africa, in the former Soviet Union...Christians there have long understood the reality of persecution, and they have long understood the reality behind this passage in Matthew.

We don't know what is to come, but our world is changing.  As it changes, it is more important than ever for us to remember that following Christ means putting him first, above all, even if that decision means the loss of life itself.  Because a better life awaits.  Take up your cross, and follow me.

No Ghost

"Look at my hands and my feet. It is I myself! Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have."   Luke 24:39

I simply have to admit, I don't understand our culture's fascination with the macabre and the paranormal.  Take the fixation this past decade on vampires and zombies. What's the point?  Where is the attraction?  And I wonder how many young people grow up these days thinking these characters of fiction are in fact real?

Still, when you stop and think about it, there is nothing new about this fascination and it is certainly something we see in the folklore of most cultures.  Jewish culture is no exception.  Take for instance the dybbuk, described in one source as "an evil spirit which enters into a living person, cleaves to his soul, causes mental illness, talks through his mouth, and represents a separate and alien personality." Jewish folklore is replete with stories of dybbuks.  The same applies to the golem, a creature made by someone expert in the mystical Jewish art of kabbalah.

If we turn to the Old Testament, we even find the story of a seance.  In 1 Samuel 28, King Saul asks a medium to bring the spirit of the Prophet Samuel back to give him advice.  Samuel's spirit appears -- unhappily -- and give Saul bad news ("...tomorrow you and your sons will be with me").  The story of Saul's downward spiral takes precedence, so we rarely notice this surprising foray into spiritualism, but there it is, in vivid detail.

So we should not be surprised if the disciples, upon seeing the risen Jesus, might first and foremost assume he is, indeed, a ghost.  If Jesus had been born in the 1980s and crucified this year, the main impediment to belief in his resurrection would have been the cult of science and of reason that dominates our culture.  But in the First Century, quite a different impediment existed.  People were so immersed in belief in the spiritual world that they would have sooner believed the risen Christ to be a specter than a real, risen body.

Realizing this, Jesus Christ does what he so often does: he accommodates the weakness of our understanding.

Imagine the scene: Jesus has appeared to his followers in a locked room.  To say this must have caused a

disturbance is quite an understatement.  If someone you knew to have been brutally murdered were to suddenly appear in your midst, just imagine your reaction.  As tame as Luke's description is, I would guess there were a few genuine screams!

So Jesus immediately tries to calm his followers by sharing the words of greeting still common today in Judaism: Shalom aleikhem, "Peace be upon you."  He then asks them, somewhat rhetorically, why they have fears and why they have doubts.  His point is that he has tried all along to make them understand what would happen, how he would conquer death and return, but only now can they begin to understand.  For proof, he offers up his own body as evidence that he is, indeed, real and material.  "A ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have."  Going further, he shares a meal with them.  He wants there to be no mistake; he is no ghost.

The act of resurrection on its own does not prove the divinity of Christ, as other people in the Bible are resurrected.  What it does do is prove that Jesus' claim about himself is true.  God the Father, to show that this is indeed His son, raises him from the dead, proving that he is indeed who he has claimed to be all along.

We serve a risen savior.  He is not a ghost, and he is not merely an idea, either.  Modern secular society would have us believe that Jesus was a man, and Christ a myth.  But no, the Bible is not a fairy tale; it is a book of truth.  And among its truths is this: Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.

A Wise Choice

2 Chronicles 1:7  That night God appeared to Solomon and said to him, “Ask for whatever you want me to give you.”

The story of Solomon is a familiar one. After ascending to David's throne over the nation of Israel, God speaks directly to him, with a seemingly unprecedented offer: "Ask for whatever you want me to give you."

We know his answer.  Solomon famously requests for wisdom so as to be able to properly lead his people.  And we know God's response.  Not only does he grant Solomon this wisdom, he makes him the wisest of all men.  Not stopping there, God gives him all the things he might have asked for instead:

God said to Solomon, “Since this is your heart’s desire and you have not asked for wealth, possessions or honor, nor for the death of your enemies, and since you have not asked for a long life but for wisdom and knowledge to govern my people over whom I have made you king, therefore wisdom and knowledge will be given you. And I will also give you wealth, possessions and honor, such as no king who was before you ever had and none after you will have.”

We have, most likely, heard the story before.  But ask yourself, what would you say if God appeared in your dreams and said, "Ask for whatever you want me to give you?"  How would you respond?  I doubt many of us would answer with a materialistic desire, as we would realize the gravity of the moment and of the one asking the question.  We might avoid a foolish answer, but we may still not give the best answer.

Dream of Solomon by Luca Giordano, c. 1693

Solomon's response, however, was exactly what God was wanting to hear.  His answer was so perfect, in fact, that it opened the floodgates of God's blessings.  Normally, as we read this passage, it is easy to view Solomon as a pious young ruler whose request, made in holiness, impresses God.  I would argue, however, that Solomon made his request for wisdom not out of piety, but out of practicality.  I imagine him as a young ruler genuinely filled with trepidation at the responsibility placed upon him, and at the tasks ahead of him.

Furthermore, I would argue that Solomon asks for wisdom precisely because he already has it.  It would be foolish to think that Solomon had no real wisdom before this moment, and the text makes it clear that he was indeed wise.  He survives, first of all, in tumultuous times, to become the unlikely heir of his father, and then begins his reign with public pronouncements and appearances which demonstrate a certain level of aptitude.  Further, his very answer to God is a wise answer -- he does not ask for something frivolous.  In short, Solomon seizes upon a gift God has already granted him and asks God to strengthen it and increase it, for the good of others.  That, I believe, is what makes Solomon's response so special.

God's outpouring of grace then shows us what Solomon surely knew: God has all things at his disposal, and blessing us is of no difficulty to him whatsoever.  God proves in this story what Jesus would someday preach: "Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well." (Matthew 6:33)  In seeking first the wisdom to lead, God would prove to Solomon that he would never want for the material things of life either.

I would argue that God confronts us every day with the question, "Ask for whatever you want me to give you."  It is a life-changing question that we answer with a grunt every day, usually without a second thought.  And yet, we are invited to believe in the power of God to effect change in our lives day after day.

Imagine the power that could be unleashed if each of us thought of one gift God had already entrusted us with, and asked him to strengthen it even further, just as Solomon did.  For God, it is an easy task.  For us, it is an exercise in faith.

So how will you answer the ever-present question once put to King Solomon?  You may not ask for wisdom, but a wise choice can still be made.

Abandoned

Mark 15:34  And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

"Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?" "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"  These powerful words open Psalm 22, a moving plea to God in which David says, "I am a worm and not a man, scorned by mankind and despised by the people.  All who see me mock me."

The passage from Mark (nearly duplicated in Matthew) is familiar to most Christians; but have you ever wondered why, of all the statements of Jesus quoted in the Bible, this one is left in the original language? 

Any observant Jew is familiar with Hebrew, and we can only speculate at how proficient Jesus himself must have been in the language of his holy texts.  His mastery of Hebrew would have been complete, and he may very well have been required to memorize the psalms in their entirety.  That he responds at this moment - a moment of greatest despair, deepest fear, and highest pain - with scripture, is no surprise.  As a man steeped in the Hebrew Bible his response would have been instinctive; as the Messiah himself, the response would have been inevitable.

But there's one issue here: these words are not Hebrew.

Instead, they are Aramaic.  When Jesus quotes Psalm 22 from the cross he does not do so using the Hebrew it was written in, but using the everyday language of Jews in first century Palestine.  This is why in most Bibles we read the words as a transliteration of Jesus' original statement: "Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?"

Why would Jesus cry these words out in Aramaic instead of in Hebrew, which was surely the language in which he learned the Psalms?  Perhaps it was because, at this worst of moments, he cried out not to "the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob" [though He was the same God], but instead, he cried out to his own father.  His cry is an intimate one, to "Abba," to the one who always heard him.  And so he cries out in his day-to-day language, though in the words of his ancestor, the Psalmist.

Shortly thereafter, Jesus would breathe his last, but only after experiencing this final, terrible moment of abandonment. 

The saddest thing is that our society is filled with people who have no idea whatsoever what was done for them, what was sacrificed for their sake.  Even our churches in this modern day are populated by many people who think they are too smart to believe in an atoning Christ, and want to see him instead as a teacher of ethics or a leader of societal change.  These people simply don't comprehend the profound truth of this moment on the cross.  Jesus died in a state of abandonment, so that we would never have to experience that same state of abandonment.  It is that simple.  He accepted the burden of guilt for our sake. All we have to do in return is accept that truth.  So easy, and yet, for the broken human race, so very hard.

"I know that my redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand on the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God."  Job 19:25-26

Remember Me

Luke 23:42-43  Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”  Jesus answered him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

I've been in many worship services which concluded with the hauntingly beautiful Taizé chant "Jesus, Remember Me."  Those famous words, uttered by a dying criminal on a cross near Jesus, have resonated with many over the centuries.  His reclamation in that lonely place is a source of hope and comfort for all of us.  What we rarely consider, however, is what brought him to that moment.

Luke paints a vivid picture for us of the crucifixion scene.  Two criminals were crucified along with Jesus, one on his right and one on his left.  His clothes were divided up like plunder. The leaders sneered at him; the soldiers mocked him.  A sign above him sarcastically declared him King of the Jews. 

And then we are told, "One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him."  The more you consider this fact the more absurd it becomes.  Here is a man -- a criminal -- condemned to die and, in fact, in the agonizing process of dying, and yet in his last hours his instinct is to follow the crowd and insult Jesus.  He is doing just as his own executioners are doing, by insulting Jesus.  This criminal simply doesn't think for himself. 

How many people have sinned their way to the grave by following the crowd?  We all know of someone who could have made the decision -- not to get into that car, not to take that drink, not to take that pill, not to commit that crime -- but instead went along with the crowd and paid for it with their very life.  Why is it so many people would rather die than think for themselves?  This criminal is no different; even in the throes of death all he can do is follow the crowd and mock an innocent man.

This is the marked difference between the two criminals.  The second criminal, in this most important moment of his life, does think for himself.  He turns away from his fellow criminal, turns away from the crowd, and turns toward the truth.  In three short sentences he rebukes the other criminal and in so doing, stands up for Jesus more than anyone else present.  Think of it, he defends Jesus more in this moment than the Apostles themselves managed to do.

“Don’t you fear God,” he said, “since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.”

I would venture to say that in most cases, the most important step needed for someone to find salvation is simply to think for themselves.  Once a person decides to turn their back upon a sin, a wrong teaching, a modern idolatry -- whatever it is that is holding them hostage -- they can then turn toward truth and find salvation there.  That is exactly what this criminal did, giving him the wisdom and the courage to say those simple words, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."

We don't know what he understood about Jesus' identity or about the kingdom to which he alludes.  Commentators like to argue over that but it's simply not very important.  He knew he needed forgiveness, and he knew that Jesus was the one to give it.  And give it he did. “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

In the midst of Jesus' suffering, I like to think that this incident may have given him a brief, bright moment.  He knew, as he was dying, that in a matter of hours or less all would be justified, and he had brought one last sheep back to the fold with him.  What a beautiful lesson for us: Remember me, Lord Jesus, as you rule today within your Kingdom.

The Not-So-Doubting Thomas

John 20:29   Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

Some scientists are busy trying to prove that humans have a biological predisposition to faith.   The theory is that a "God gene" causes the human race to tend toward belief in the supernatural, explaining why religions of varying sorts have sprung up in every culture throughout human history.  Scientists see this as a result of (or contributor to) natural selection, and argue that it has helped humanity survive and thrive through ties of community based upon belief.

And yet, as we look around, it may seem just as likely to conclude that people are predisposed to doubt instead.  Indeed, everywhere we look, we meet those who doubt the existence of God, or the power of God, or the goodness of God.  If they think of God at all, they may see him as a distant being, perhaps a creator, or a judge, but not personally involved in our lives.  Some reject God's existence completely.  And even in our churches there are certainly many who have sat through hundreds of worship services without ever resolving inner doubts they dare not utter to family and friends.  Doubt, at every level, is all around us.

So how then can we blame the Apostle Thomas for stating his desire for proof of the resurrection?  Here's a quick review of how our culture came to have a "Doubting Thomas":

Now Thomas (also known as Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came.  So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!”  But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”  A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!" Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” 

Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!”

Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” (John 20:24-29)

Thomas has been known for centuries as the disciple who doubted; what a reputation to have!  Yet he is no worse than us, and no worse than his follow apostles.  All he wanted was proof, to experience what his fellow disciples had experienced, and in his hyperbole, he declared his need to touch the wounds of Jesus before he would believe the resurrection.  If anything, his response is human and understandable.  Given the circumstances, any saint-in-the-making would have said the same.

What does it mean to doubt?  We attach the word to Thomas but we do so too quickly.  Yes, the NIV (quoted above) has Jesus saying, "Stop doubting and believe," but that may not be the best translation of the Greek.  The ESV uses, "Do not disbelieve, but believe."  And the famed King James Version says, "Be not faithless, but believing."  Instead of actively doubting, it seems Jesus knew that Thomas was merely lacking in his faith.

Doubt is a very natural thing, and doubt can even be a healthy thing.  Doubt keeps us from eating food that doesn't smell quite right, or from opening up email messages from addresses we don't recognize.  We teach our children to doubt strangers in cars who pull up asking for directions, and we learn to doubt the promises of politicians at election time.  In our day-to-day world doubts are overcome by facts.  We come to believe in something by learning more about it.  When an advertisement for car insurance arrives in the mail, we start by doubting it almost in its entirety.  But if we're in the market for such a policy, we learn more about the offer, talk to people, and do research, until at least our doubts are resolved.

But when it comes to religion, the relationship with doubt is different.  Doubt is overcome not by facts, but by faith.  That is because the existence of God, and the attributes of God, cannot be proven by facts or by logic.  Such a being would not be God.  Despite the demands of many to prove the existence of God, who would want to believe in a God small enough to be provable?  In things of this world, the opposite of doubt is, I think we could say, knowledge.  But in terms of religion, the opposite of doubt is faith, because the very idea of God -- the all-encompassing God of Jewish and Christian tradition -- is above and beyond the bounds of human knowledge.  In the words of Augustine: "If we are speaking of God, why be surprised if you do not understand? If you could understand, it would not be God."

And so if faith comes not from facts, it must instead come from open heart, one that is willing to search for and accept that which is greater than the mere self.  And such was the case with Thomas.  Despite his statements, when he did come face-to-face with the risen Christ there is no indication that he bothered to touch his wounds -- the mere encounter was enough to  make him believe.  And more than just believe in him, Thomas went on to proclaim his deity.  By this late point in John's gospel it is easy to read Thomas's words without much reflection on their depth, but consider this -- in the entirety of John's gospel, only two people declare Jesus to be God.  First is the narrator himself (who we assume to be John).  The second is Thomas: "My Lord and my God!"

What irony!  In this gospel it is the one man most synonymous with doubt who gives the clearest declaration that Jesus is God.  That's what our Lord can do.  Any doubt we carry can be overcome.  The key is to stop wanting proof, and instead want truth.  If we ask for that, if we seek it, God will provide it.

Companions for the Journey

Ecclesiastes 4:9-10   Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: if either of them falls down, one can help the other up.  But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.

One of the quotes by Henry David Thoreau that is etched in my mind [and there are a lot of them; I did my senior thesis on him] is, "My friend shall forever be my friend and reflect a ray of God toward me."  Poor HDT was always looking for the "perfect" in this world, and always being frustrated by the lack of it.  Friendship was no different - he wrote many pages on the idea of friendship but had few close friends, and drifted apart from most of those he did have in the course of his life.  Unlike the True Friend envisioned in his quote above, there was no one to always be his friend, or to direct a ray of God toward him.

The life lived in Christ, however, should embody that ideal.  If we are to be brothers and sisters to each other, we are certainly called to be friends to each other, and in our friendship we will shine the love of God upon each other.

The writer of Ecclesiastes can be dark and pessimistic in tone, but when he turns to friendship, he shares true and heartening insights:

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: if either of them falls down, one can help the other up.  But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.   Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.  But how can one keep warm alone?  Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.  A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

Jesus puts this wisdom into direct action when he sends out the Apostles (Mark 6:7) and then the Seventy-Two (Luke 10:1) to minister, "two by two."   These early Christians could support, protect, and advise each other, just as we can today.

I have been superbly blessed over the years by a large number of friends.  I have drifted apart from some over time, as happens with anyone, though in other cases miles and years have not dampened our ties.  And as the years go by new friends emerge, unexpectedly.  Over time I am impressed more and more by how crucial we are to each other, and how God has literally designed friendship as a tool for surviving in a world frought with snares and pitfalls.  He gives us to each other, for a season or for a lifetime, but in all cases we are gifts of God, one to each other.

John, the friend of Christ, the wise sage who writes in old age to the church, declares, "This is the message you heard from the beginning: we should love one another." (1 John 3:11)  In so many cases it is as simple as that: love one another - "reflect a ray of God to me," to you.  But to underscore the point, John goes one step further: "Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth." (1 John 3:18)

Jesus is our friend; the old camp songs proclaim this.  But he also sends us friends, to lift us up, to keep us warm, to fight our battles.  Be grateful he does, and always be ready and waiting for the next friend sent to you - and to whom you are sent - and thank God for them.

Rule #1: Be Nice

Galatians 6:9-10  Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.

I was speaking with a good friend recently about the basics of Christian teaching, when I recalled a great statement from a great sermon: "You don't have to be a trained soul-winner to be nice to people."

That memorable sentence came from Nazarene General Superintendent J.K. Warrick and when I heard it, in 2013, I immediately wrote it down. That statement is so special because, oftentimes, it really is that simple! 

Few believers are capable, or called, for that matter, to stand on street corners or go door to door, confronting complete strangers with the Gospel. I have seen this sort of public evangelism done in a powerful way by people specially anointed for this work, able to be true witnesses and cause people to stop and think. I have also seen it done quite ineffectively. Exiting a Boston Red Sox game one day, I headed back toward the subway (the "T") along with a friend of mine, an Orthodox Jew. We were moving along in a throng of people and in our midst was a street preacher, yelling at everyone passing by. As we came beside him, his eyes caught my friends' eyes for a mere second and the man yelled out, "Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?!" A step or two later, out of any earshot, my friend calmly answered, "Well, actually, no."

We are not instructed to wade into crowds and rant and rave, but we are instructed to care about people, to love people, and to do good. Paul's point to the Galatians was that doing good for others sows the seeds of faith. If we do not give up,someday there will be a harvest.

The United Methodist Church ran a television commercial several years ago depicting a true story. In the ad, a young boy and his friends break into the basement of a church in order to play pool on the pool table stored there. The minister of the church apparently figures out the boys are breaking in to do this and surprises them one day. He approached the young ring-leader, who is obviously certain he is about to end up in a load of trouble. But then the minister hands the boy a key to the building. The commercial ends with a shot of the surprised (and relieved) boy and the caption, "Now a pastor." It was a great vignette about how acting in love - and acting counter to this world's expectations - can transform a life for Christ.

The Apostle Peter shares a similar lesson, saying, "Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us." It seems like common sense - people will open their eyes to Jesus if Christians act like we are called to act. It may be over-quoted, but St. Francis of Assisi hit upon an eternal truth when he advised, "Preach the Gospel at all times, and when necessary, use words." Why does this seem so hard for some Christians to understand and implement? Perhaps it is due to the brand of Christianity some of them have encountered themselves. But if we are to take Jesus seriously, we will realize that the prime key to sharing our faith with others is by treating people well. And Paul makes it clear - that starts within the church: "...let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers." He does not add these words because believers deserve special treatment, but because how we treat each other is a basis for our witness. This is why Christ told his followers:

 “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (John 13:34-35)

No one will believe our Gospel if we don't treat them with love. Nor will they believe us if we are not treating each other with love. So remember, day after day, hour after hour, it's quite simple. Don't grow weary in doing good. Because, "You don't have to be a trained soul-winner to be nice to people."

Reflections from an Ordination

1 Samuel 3:8-9   And the Lord called Samuel again the third time. And he arose and went to Eli and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy. Therefore Eli said to Samuel, “Go, lie down, and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant hears.’”

Last Wednesday night, July 16th, as I was being ordained, a letter was carefully tucked into my vest pocket.  It was the letter that changed my life.

It was mailed to me 20 years ago this very month, sent by my great-great aunt, Esther McCullough.  Few people know, let alone have a relationship with, a great-great aunt, but this was no usual tie.  Aunt Esther, who had no children of her own, lived alone in Florida.  One day in the mid-1980s my mother sent her a photo of a science project I had worked on, and Aunt Esther proceeded to write a note to me about it.  From that began a correspondence that continued right up to her death in 1996 at age 98.

This particular letter, dated July 26, 1994, reached me in Ohio just prior to my senior year at college, and just a couple months before my 22nd birthday.  I had given a guest sermon somewhere and sent a copy to her.  This is what Aunt Esther had to say:

I realize that I am living on borrowed time, otherwise I would not make a suggestion as to your plans after Harvard. I strongly support that each go into any work that they feel they are fitted for and not be influenced by their family especially.... So if I felt I had time I would make no suggestion.

I definitely approve of your plans to enter some type of government work.... But if nothing along this line opens up, I wonder if you would consider the Ministry.

After expounding on this for a couple of paragraphs she finished the theme with, "As I said before, I do not want to force you but you are so eminently fitted for this that I would not want you to overlook it in case your first choice eludes you."

I remember finding her suggestion to seem almost comical, as this appeared to be the last thing for which I felt "fitted."  In my response, I outlined all the flaws in my character that would preclude me from any such career.  I wonder now if she chuckled at my naive rejoinder.

In reality, Aunt Esther's suggestion could not be so easily forgotten.  The very thought of it gnawed at me as the months went by.  It did not awaken a call to ministry, per se, but certainly awakened a call to learn.  I found myself in the grip of an insatiable need to add to my meager knowledge of the Christian faith.  Before I graduated from college I had already asked for a booklet from the admissions office of Harvard Divinity School.  It was the first step on a road that led eventually to my Master of Divinity degree at Duke.

Pike family after the service

In the months to come, life happened.  In 1995 and 1996 I had four jobs, moved four times, and got married.  But the desire to learn -- which was accompanied more and more by a desire to serve -- stayed with me. By early 1997, settled in Pierre, South Dakota (where I worked for the state legislature), I had my first meeting with a minister about my plans.  I was soon assigned to a mentor (a pastor who was preparing for retirement) and began the "candidacy process" in the United Methodist Church.

My wife and I had no thoughts of pastoring a church, ever.  However, I could see myself in an administrative role within the church someday, and so I embarked upon the deacon track, a road to the helping ministries which support the church behind the scenes.  Maybe I would someday work for a denominational office, or a church-related university.  But I was not cut out for pulpit ministry, and had no illusions to the contrary.

Eventually, after procrastination, I enrolled at Duke in 2000, necessitating another move halfway across the country.  My three years in divinity school were extraordinarily fulfilling as I learned so much about the Bible, the history of our faith, the thinking behind it, and its presence around the world.  Made nervous by public speaking, I waited until my final year to take the required preaching class.  Besides, I was certain it was not necessary for my future work.  Eschewing pastoral field education placements, I worked administratively instead.  Graduating in 2003 I was blessed to receive a job doing exactly the sort of thing I felt I was supposed to be doing -- managing a project sponsored by the divinity school which set up health ministries in the Carolinas.  It all made sense.

Though I was still in the candidacy process officially, I had no real desire to finish it.  Ordination as a deacon seemed superfluous and just meant a lot of paperwork and committee meetings I could do without.  However, in 2006 when we moved to Indiana, I decided to look into what it would take to reactivate that process.  Alas, it was clear that the retreats and other meetings I would be required to attend just for that purpose would interfere with my job. I asked how others working bi-vocationally could do it all, and the answer was, "It is a problem, and we're in conversation about how to solve that."

General Superintendent Porter addresses the ordinands

After years of groaning at the institutional politics of my denomination this was a last straw.  Besides, we had visited a Nazarene church locally and found it to be a far better fit for us theologically and socially, so we officially switched denominations.  That meant giving up the candidacy process for ordination, but that didn't trouble me much at all.

I was soon teaching Sunday school at our new church and before long realized that I could not dismiss this calling, whatever it was about, and so I applied to work toward ordination (again, as a deacon) in the Church of the Nazarene.  Step one was a Local Minister's License, which I first obtained in March 2009.  In July 2010 I was selected to receive a District Minister's License, which would allow me to do ministry in a local church as an official pastor.

Ironically, it was to be at the ordination service at that year's District Assembly that my direction would change.  Listening to the sermon and watching the ordination, I was struck by a realization that God was saying, you can do this, and you will do this.  All of my own self-doubts, I realized, were irrelevant.  I finally understood that I would never be ready or able to do the work of ministry -- not on my own.  But God could fill in all the gaps.  No one is ever ready.  No one is ever old enough, or wise enough, or experienced enough.  But God can take care of our shortcomings.

I immediately changed to the elder track, toward pulpit ministry.  The next spring an unexpected thing happened.  No Nazarene churches had been available nearby for me to pastor, but out of nowhere I was asked to fill in at two small United Methodist churches.  This was soon made permanent and since 2011 we have pastored these same two congregations.

Moment of ordination

At long last, this spring, having fulfilled the educational and pastoral requirements, and having been examined by the district committee on ministry, I was recommended for ordination.  And last Wednesday night, I knelt before General Superintendent Jerry Porter -- the same man who gave the sermon that life-changing night in 2010 -- and was ordained an elder in God's church.  It's not something I deserve, or ever could deserve.  Instead, it is a gift and an honor which I had to learn to accept.

The spirits and prayers of many people, living and dead, were on my mind and in my heart that night.  And in my pocket was the letter that in many ways started it all.  Good call, Aunt Esther.  Good call.