JAG

Chapter 4: How to Treat a Snake

2010-08-24T15:46:00.000-07:00

Truesdale says, “The transition from instrument to idol is subtle and deadly. Usually, we don’t see it coming” (58). Those words form the foundation of this chapter about Hezekiah and his on religious reform. Often, though, religious reform becomes difficult and painful. It sometimes requires changes that folks aren’t willing to make. And sometimes it requires changes that are so radical that it seems like something essential is being destroyed.

In this chapter, from the perspective of a successful businessman, we can see one such radical call to change that Hezekiah intends to bring about. He was going to destroy an idol. But not a pagan idol of Baal or Asherah, this was something from their past given to them by Yahweh. And the people weren’t happy about it. In their mind, Hezekiah intention was “to disrupt our sacred past, to destroy something essential for our worship of Yahweh” (63). By destroying the bronze serpent Moses fashioned in the Wilderness wandering, Hezekiah was destroying “an irreplaceable reminder of God’s presence and guidance, a sure sign of his salvation” (64). But Hezekiah tells the people that the bronze serpent is at the center of their transgression (66), that they had turned “what was supposed to be a transparent sign [into] a concrete idol” (67).

Once again it seems the meaning is ostensible for the church today, poignantly reflected in the cracks of division that appear along pressure points where past and future converge in the struggle for new and germane meaning. Too easily we can turn transparent signs into concrete idols. Think about some of those things from our “sacred past” that have been for us signs of God’s salvation. Now think about the ways we tend to turn those signs into objects of worship.

Chapter 3: Worship or Manipulation

2010-08-20T15:28:00.001-07:00

Chapter 3 invites us into the courtroom scene that takes place in the book of Micah. God brings charges against Israel. They had forsaken the covenant. They had forgotten what it means to be the people of God. Their worship had become self-seeking, a tool to “put God in an agreeable and rewarding frame of mind” (48). Al Truesdale points out that “The commandment not to take the name of the Lord in vain (Exod. 20:7) is a warning against using God’s name for contrived human purposes” (48). A danger in any age.

A couple of key charges God makes against Israel stand out for me. The first is that they have forgotten what it means to be his people (54). I think this is a crucial failure. Understanding what it means to be God’s people can drastically change how we understand what it is to be the church as well as redefining the mission of the church.

The second key charge is that Israel and Judah had failed to “connect worship with love for neighbor” (55). It is somewhat ironic to me that the idea of “worship wars” is even an issue within the church, let alone that it can become so divisive, causing such inimical behavior among those who call themselves family. Perhaps if we could make the connection between worship and love for neighbor, our worship could become truly transformational.

Finally, God asks, “Why do you boast of your religious zeal, when your lives contradict my character?” (56). I suppose this charge sums up the others. Religion, worship, being the church, they are all supposed to reflect God’s character. It’s not a matter of cognitive assent to a particular set of propositions. It’s not a matter of doing this and not doing that. It’s not a matter of which church we go to. It’s simply a matter of as a body of believers, do we reflect God’s character (and it is significant to remember that this is not about individuals, but about communities. We can only be the people of God with others, never as individuals or even as a collection of individuals, only as community.).

So what does God expect? What does it mean to be the people of God, to connect worship with love for neighbor, to reflect God’s character? The answer God gives is startling. God says, “I want you to practice justice, show my kindness of love to others, and walk before me in genuine humility” (57).

Chapter 2: The Baal of Mechanical Piety

2010-08-17T14:26:00.001-07:00

In this chapter Al Truesdale brings the prophet Amos into the story of Israel’s seduction to false worship. The focus is on an outward, “mechanical piety.” And the sort of mindset that understand worship as something to placate God and gain a reward. Indeed, in this chapter we see clearly how the Northern Kingdom saw their social, political, and economic prosperity as evidence that God was rewarding their impressive ritual of worship.

They seemed to be doing everything right: carefully nurturing the Mosaic tradition by “observing the great sacrificial ceremonies, feasts, and fasts;” teaching the people “the great convictions of Israel’s faith” (37); religion in the Northern kingdom was squeaky clean, not missing a thing. And the people were responding. Both centers of worship were full as people took their worship serious. From all outward appearances, God was responding favorably to the religion of the people.

But that’s when Amos shows up saying that they “completely misunderstood God’s special calling,” that “apart from covenantal faithfulness, election meant nothing” (40). And Israel had abandoned its responsibility to justice. They were “corrupted by opulence,” their greed was unchecked, they “trampled on the heads of the poor.” For all their attention to worship and religion, their “professed faithfulness to Yahweh did not translate into justice executed on behalf of the defenseless” (42). And so Amos declares that God hates and despises their feasts and solemn assemblies; their praise is little more than “hollow songs” (44). What God truly desires is that “justice [will] pour across the land like a flood, and righteousness [will] flow like and unending stream” (44).

I suppose, for me, the take-away thought in this chapter is that in every age we can allow our worship to become something perfunctory and mechanical. When it becomes an end in which we seek to ingratiate God in order to gain an advantage, the worshipers becomes elevated above the one who is worshiped. Control is wrestled from God, who becomes incidental as the worshiper assumes control.

I realize I’m probably opening a can of worms here, but as I read this chapter I couldn’t help but think about all the rhetoric I have heard (mostly from the “religious right”) about how the only way for America to return to its former prosperity is to regain its former practices of worship. I couldn’t help but wonder if this isn’t exactly where the Northern kingdom was coming from.

Chapter One: The Troubler

2010-08-11T16:13:00.000-07:00

Chapter one recounts that very familiar story from 1 Kings 18 when Elijah confronts the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel. The unique feature of this chapter, though, is the walk with Jubal. Jubal is a (fictitious) 9th century BC farmer from the Northern Kingdom. What makes this walk with Jubal unique is listening to his explanation of why this showdown is so important, and why the Northern Kingdom has found it so easy to worship both Yahweh and Baal. I think I would like to highlight two aspects from this chapter. The first is why worship Baal. And the second is the idea of compartments.

In this chapter, Al Truesdale did a good job showing us that the worship of Baal was not due to the fact that the people were backward and ignorant. Nor were they simply perverted in the lust. We need to remember that all myths (and by myth I do not mean false) about local deities are in their essence a way of explaining the workings of the world. Today we seem to think that because of the elevation of reason during the Enlightenment, and the proliferation of science and scientific discoveries, that we have the tools to really understand how things work. But in reality, our science functions in exactly the same way as did the myths that informed the people back in Elijah’s day. Baal was the best science of the day. It explained how the world worked. And besides that, up until this point, it was effective.

There is something anachronistically arrogant when we dismiss these myths as stupid. Of course, that doesn’t make them right or okay for the people of God, because God told them not to have any other God and not to worship anything or anyone but Yahweh. They knew better, not because they had better science or more intelligence, but because God told them. We are told that it really wasn’t a problem because “it is all matter of respecting boundaries. Some parts of life belong to Yahweh, and some to Baal” (27).

It seems to me that this is the open door that invites idolatry. Whenever we allow our lives to be divided into compartments where God either plays no role or that role is held to a minimum, an idol of some sort will always come around to fill that space. One of the most telling ideas in this chapter for me was when our companion Jubal tells us that Yahweh is the God of power and deliverance, the miracle-working God of the desert. “But that has little to do with the everyday affairs of life such as receiving rain, growing grapes, and paying bills” (27). Today we call that “being relevant.” It made me pause and wonder if the whole idea of being relevant has become an idol. I have a feeling it has.

Into the midst of all this comes the Troubler—Elijah. He tells the people that they cannot have compartments. Yahweh is not a God with boundaries. He gathers everyone on together on Mount Carmel and a showdown. We know what happens. Fire falls, consuming Elijah’s offering. Yahweh is God, Yahweh alone.

I guess the question for me is twofold. Where have I created boundaries/compartments? And where have I allowed the myths of our world to infringe on my exclusive worship of God?

The Scheme

2010-08-09T15:47:00.000-07:00

Today I’m just going to look at the introduction, or what the author calls “The Scheme.” Here he sets out the basic premise behind the book: “If Satan can get us to insert inferior interests and motives into our worship, then the Conspiracy will accomplish its goal” (10). And, in short, its goal is to defeat God (10). In order to accomplish this, it “plays upon our blind spots. All of us are vulnerable” (10).

Of course, one has to wonder: can God be defeated? And I suppose that would depend on how you view God and God’s providence. Perhaps another way to say this is: Can God’s will be thwarted, or does God always get God’s way? Or to narrow it down even more: Do humans really have free choice? Does creation have freedom to choose? If we answer that ‘yes,’ than God’s will can be thwarted, and in that sense God can be defeated. Think of it this way: every time someone chooses against God, God suffers a defeat. So in this way God can be defeated; and that is the goal, Truesdale says, of the Baal conspiracy. And “[t]o achieve its goal, it tries to enlist the people of God—those of us who sit in church on Sunday morning or Saturday night—as its agents” (10).

He brings us to Elijah, and how easily Israel became beguiled by the conspiracy. After all, it is what “passed for advanced agricultural science” of the day (12). It explained how things grew, why crops flourished. It helped farmers increase their yield, offering “the key for success in everyday life” (12). Seems innocent enough, but in fact it had a deleterious effect.

Truesdale purposes in the 10 chapters that make the body of the book to expose the nuances of this conspiracy and how subtle it finds its way into the church. He will do so using a sort of historic fiction, bringing us into the lives of the people who made up the events of the Old Testament.

What I would really like to emphasis, though, is his “Word of caution.” We can either read these chapters with a fatuous confidence, noting how these words describe so well everyone else. Or we can read these words in a way that serves to examine our own lives, helping to drive out those furtive idols that linger in our own blind spots. Personally, I want to engage the book in this way and I hope you do as well.

READY, WILLING, AND ABLE

2010-07-25T12:42:00.000-07:00

Don’t you think it’s interesting that the one thing the disciples wanted Jesus to teach them to do was to pray? They didn’t ask him to teach them to preach, though they must have heard him preach many, many times. They didn’t ask him to show them how to teach the crowds, though they had seen him instruct literally thousands of people. They didn’t ask him to teach them how to heal the sick or how to cast out demons, though they had seen him do so. No, the one thing they wanted to learn from Jesus was how to pray.
No doubt they had watched as he drew aside from the great crowds of people that gathered wherever he went. Usually it was early in the morning or late at night that he drew aside to find a secluded spot, a place to pray. And no doubt the disciples had sensed something very different both in the way Jesus prayed and the affects of his prayers. There must have been something starling, powerful, and even awesome that took place whenever Jesus prayed. For all the miracles and wonders they had seen in the time they spent with Jesus, it was his times of prayer that were to them the most significant. It was the time he spent alone with his Father that seemed to be the most impressive. And so they asked him “Lord Teach us to pray.”
You know, as I’ve thought about prayer and what this Scripture says about prayer, I think I’ve come to the conclusion that prayer greatly depends on two things. First, is the character of the one to whom we pray. And of course, as Christians we pray to the living and all powerful God whose essence and character is perfect love. So this first aspect of prayer is really beyond our control. But the second one isn’t. The second one is our understanding of the character of the one to whom we pray. It is how we see God, how we understand his nature. And I think this is what Jesus is getting at in this section of Luke. He’s helping us to understand God’s nature when it comes to prayer.
You see, God wants us to come to him. He tells us to “ask, seek, and knock.” He invites us to come to him through prayer and allow him to mend the hole in our lives… to fix what has become broken. Only God can do that. Only God can fill the void that is in our soul. Anything else is just an illusion... an illusion of peace… an illusion of happiness… an illusion of satisfaction. Unfortunately, though, illusions often create very real dangers.
We’ve all heard stories about the person lost in a desert who is dying of thirst. And as she claws her way across the sand, she sees reflected on a sand dune what looks like an oasis. It’s only a mirage; it’s not real. But the illusion is so intense and vivid because her need is so strong and so real that she actually tries to drink the sand.
Though most omit it from Luke’s version of this story, there are some manuscripts that have, “If a child asks for bread would you give him a stone.” The answer is, “Of course not.” But still, there are similarities between a loaf of bread and what a smooth, round stone may look like. And after all, wasn’t it the stones that Satan used to tempt Jesus to turn into bread in order to satisfy his hunger? There must be something in the appearance of bread and a smooth, desert stone that’s very similar. But there is also a big difference.
You see, one o f the dangers of living with illusions is that there is no satisfaction in it. The stone may look like bread, but it isn’t bread. And because it isn’t bread, the satisfaction it offers isn’t real. It’s an illusion that in the end leaves us feeling empty.
How many stories do we need to hear of the rich and the famous taking their own lives because they weren’t satisfied? They had everything—or at least everything this world could offer—and yet they were empty.
That’s because the things that the world offers to us are only stones, illusions, they’re not real. What we need is bread, not stones. Jesus said that he was the living bread that came down from heaven, and that those who partake of this bread shall never die. He said that he was the bread of life, and whoever comes to him shall never be hungry. Only Jesus is able to satisfy our deepest need.
I was once told by someone who grew up in Columbia that high in up in the mountains of that country, where the coca plant grew, the local villagers would chew on the leaves of that tree in order to ease their hunger pains. It is from those leave that the narcotic cocaine is derived. They would chew the leaves, usually with a bit of lime to increase the effectiveness to suppress their appetite. But it couldn’t satisfy the hunger, it could only mask it. And if the person didn’t eat, eventually they would die. The illusion couldn’t keep them alive; it could only hide the pain.
And so Luke’s main point comes with the questions: “If your child asks for a fish will [you] give a snake instead of a fish? Or if the child asks for an egg, will [you] give a scorpion?” And again the answer is, “Of course not.” Both the sting of a scorpion and the bight of a snake are serious, and both have the potential to kill. One of the very real dangers of an illusion is, not only does it not satisfy, but it is spiritually fatal as well.
Spiritual fatality comes when our focus is taken off of God and placed on this world and what this world can give. And once that separation takes place, we are in essence spiritually dead. The venom of illusion always seeks to kill that which would draw us to God. It always tries to keep us from turning to God. It prevents us from asking, seeking or knocking. It keeps us from prayer.
But when we do come to God in prayer we find that what God offers to us is not an illusion, but something very, very real. And not only is it not an illusion, but what God gives is always the very best. And it is always more than enough.
Just look at the story of the wedding feast in Canna. The wedding was in full swing when the host ran out of wine. In that time and culture, this would have been disastrous. But at the request of his mother, Jesus turned six water pots full of water into wine. And not just any cheap wine, but as the host of the party said, it was the best wine.
Or what about the little group of followers that was caught on the back side of the Sea of Galilee? It was late in the day, there was no McDonalds around, no 7-11, nothing… just desert. Jesus took the small sack lunch of a little boy and he fed five-thousand men and their families. Not only did they eat until they were full, but as the disciples cleaned up, they were able to fill twelve baskets with leftovers.
Or what about the time by the Sea of Galilee when Jesus told Simon to push out into deep water and throw down his net for a catch of fish? Simon obeyed and had such a catch that it started to break his nets. When he called for help they soon had both boats so full that they both began to sink.
And what about your own life? How many times can you look back and see the hand of God providing when there seemed to be no possible way? And isn’t it always the case that God’s provision in those times turns out to be the very best?
That brings us to God’s ultimate gift; God’s ultimate provision for us. Jesus says if we being evil know how to give good gifts to our children, “how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?”
Now this is the ultimate gift. It is the gift that goes beyond our everyday need and reaches to our ultimate need—our need for God. What greater gift could God give than to give God’s self. That is what God has done on the cross. And that is what God continues to do through the Holy Spirit.
Humanity’s deepest desire has always been to find fulfillment and peace. But it’s a desire that can never be realized by anything we can have apart from God. “What benefit would it be if we could gain the world but in the end loose our soul?”
You see, that’s the point. Jesus said, “Peace I leave you; my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you.” The peace Jesus gives is one which the world can never know because it is a peace that originated in the heart of God. It is a peace that can never be realized apart from God, a peace that surpasses all understanding. It is a kenotic peace, one secured at Calvary.
Humanity’s need for fulfillment and peace can only be found in the self-giving God’s gift given through the cross. It is a gift we are called to imitate.
The apostle Paul says, “So then, brothers and sisters, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh—for if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry ‘Abba! Father!’ it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.”
We began with Jesus’ instruction to ask, seek, and knock. These three words carry a meaning far beyond a single event. You see, as Christians we are to continually ask, to always be seeking, and to never stop knocking. It is a call to an ever deepening relationship with God. It is a call to all Christians everywhere to look to God. It is a call to find our total and absolute contentment in Christ and Christ alone.
The cry to ask, seek, knock is also a plea. It is a plea to those who do not know God—to those who may know the name, but not the person of Jesus Christ. It is a plea to those who have been looking down the wrong paths for their happiness. It is God calling you home. It is God calling you to a personal relationship. But more than that, it is a promise. It is God’s promise that if you would ask, seek, and knock your Heavenly Father is ready willing and able to enter your life and make a difference.
Let’s pray:
Thank you gracious Father, for the invitation to ask, seek and knock. And thank you for your promise to always answering. Through Jesus Christ your son our lord who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit One God now and forever. Amen

Wednesday’s Text: Psalm 82

2010-07-07T18:34:00.000-07:00

1 God has taken his place in the divine council;
in the midst of the gods he holds judgment:
2 “How long will you judge unjustly
and show partiality to the wicked? Selah
3 Give justice to the weak and the orphan;
maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute.
4 Rescue the weak and the needy;
deliver them from the hand of the wicked.”
5 They have neither knowledge nor understanding,
they walk around in darkness;
all the foundations of the earth are shaken.
6 I say, “You are gods,
children of the Most High, all of you;
7 nevertheless, you shall die like mortals,
and fall like any prince.”
8 Rise up, O God, judge the earth;
for all the nations belong to you!
(NRSV)

Once again Scripture cries out for social justice. Once more the people of God are judged on how well they live out mercy. I think sometimes we have a tendency to want to reduce what it means to be a Christian to something personal and epistemic (knowledge). Yet, Scripture seems to insist that it is more communal and existential (experience). To be a Christian means we act justly; it means we rescue the weak and the needy; it means we maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute. We do so not because of some moral or ethical imperative, but because it is who we are. In the world of the Bible, there is no separation between the sacred and the secular. The only forum available for us to live out our Christian experience, our life of holiness, is in this world. That’s one of the truly unique things about Christianity. Oh, certainly we have the hope of the resurrection, we have the hope of a new heaven and a new earth, but our primary focus is not other-worldly; it is here and now. How can we live out justice for the weak and the orphan? How can we maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute? How can we rescue the weak and the needy? How can we deliver them from the hand of the wicked? You see, it is on how well we live out God’s justice and mercy and love that we will be judged.

Monday’s Text: Luke 10.25-37

2010-07-05T15:25:00.000-07:00

25 Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” 26 He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” 27 He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” 28 And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”
29 But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” 30 Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. 31 Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. 32 So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. 34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. 35 The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ 36 Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” 37 He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”
(NRSV)

The story of the Good Samaritan is such a well known story. Even folks who would never darken a church door know the story. “Good Samaritan” has become a sort of euphemism for helping someone out of a desperate or awkward situation. But the story outside of the context, turns the story into something different than what Jesus meant it to be. It turns it into some sort of moral lesson, some ethical fable mean to teach us how to treat one another. And while that may not be a bad thing, it missing something of the real issue. The issue at stake here is eternal life. The lawyer asked Jesus “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Now while some folks may chide him for asking a question which would seem to imply that eternal life is a reward for something we do, I personally feel that that is a somewhat anachronistic reading of the text. I believe it is a fair question; even an honest one. It’s interesting, but Luke’s gospel is the only that records this, the greatest commandment, as coming from someone other than Jesus. In all the other gospels Jesus is asked which is the greatest commandment, and he answers with the Shema. Here, though, Luke turns things around; he puts the words of the divine command in the month of an ordinary person. But Luke does that. He brings the divine into the grit and grime of this world more than any of the other evangelist. And that’s one reason why I think this was a legitimate question. Luke didn’t see salvation as some disembodied spiritual experience void of any sort of physical involvement on our part. We have a part to play. Randy Maddox’s entitled his theology of John Wesley as Responsible Grace for precisely that reason. Grace may indeed be free, but it implies responsibility. Though we can do nothing to earn our salvation that does not mean salvation is passive. And that’s where the story of the Good Samaritan comes in.

While the lawyer asked Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus asks “Who was a neighbor?” Jesus turns the whole thing around. When we seek to define exactly who is our neighbor and who isn’t we are in essence trying to decide just how far do we need to love. We want to know where is the line? How far is far enough? Jesus turns it around saying that it’s not a matter of trying to decide who is and who is not our neighbor. The point is you be a neighbor. And that means there is no line. There is no limit. Mercy extends equally and ubiquitously to everyone. Eternal life is not only about what we inherit after we die. It is the condition of how we live our life right now—in the grit and the grime of this world.

Friday’s Text: Galatians 6.7-16

2010-07-03T12:41:00.000-07:00

7 Do not be deceived; God is not mocked, for you reap whatever you sow. 8 If you sow to your own flesh, you will reap corruption from the flesh; but if you sow to the Spirit, you will reap eternal life from the Spirit. 9 So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up. 10 So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith.

11 See what large letters I make when I am writing in my own hand! 12 It is those who want to make a good showing in the flesh that try to compel you to be circumcised—only that they may not be persecuted for the cross of Christ. 13 Even the circumcised do not themselves obey the law, but they want you to be circumcised so that they may boast about your flesh. 14 May I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. 15 For neither circumcision nor uncircumcision is anything; but a new creation is everything! 16 As for those who will follow this rule—peace be upon them, and mercy, and upon the Israel of God.
(NRSV)

A new creation is everything… you reap what you sow… may I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ… these are what stand out for me in the text. And I have a feeling they are connected. Remember, Paul wrote Galatians to a group of Christians who were being influenced by a group of “judiazers” who tried to “bewitch” into believing that if they wanted to be really secure in their salvation they needed to follow the law. Paul’s argument is not one based on any sort of antinomian faith where what we do counts for nothing. Such an argument would be basically dualistic: our souls are saved, what we do with our bodies doesn’t matter. Instead Paul’s argument runs more along the lines of salvation being something holistic (body, soul, spirit) and ontological (being, substance). When we are saved by grace through faith, something substantive happens in us and to us. We are changed. The change is real (ontological). And it is that change that forms the basis of the new creation.

When Paul says “a new creation is everything” he is refereeing to individuals only as they are part of the greater whole—the kingdom of God. New creation is a communal and cosmic affair. Remember in Isaiah how he talked about a new heaven and a new earth? That’s the new creation Paul is talking about. The eschatological (end times) language of Isaiah finds fulfillment in Christ. In Christ the new creation is begun. In Christ the eschaton has arrived, though not fully actualized. And the way it has arrived is through the cross. Paul’s only source of boasting is in the cross of Christ. The cross turns everything upside down. It makes no sense. When we read Genesis one and the story of creation, we read about God’s power and majesty at work. God takes the tumultuous chaos of a formless void covered in deep darkness and brings order. God calls forth light and it comes, separates the light from the darkness, the land from the sea, the stars, the sun and the moon find their proper place at God’s beckoning. God brings forth life from the seas and the land, and out of a lump of clay creates humanity, breathing God’s own breath into the lungs of that first human. It’s beautiful, majestic, powerful; an account fitting the almighty God. Yet when God decided to bring forth a new creation, God chose to do so through a cross. If the Genesis account shows God’s power, the cross displays God’s vulnerability.

The new creation is still about power. It’s just a different kind of power. It’s the power of vulnerability, the power of self-giving, the power of risk. It is the power of humility. The new creation subversively works its way into our world from the bottom up. It is to the poor, the weak, and the marginalized that the gospel reaches. It is to the oppressed, the imprisoned, and the captive that the message of new creation becomes liberation and life. The new creation works through weakness so that we have no room to boast in our accomplishments. It comes through vulnerability in order that we can make ourselves vulnerable. It extends to all through God’s self-giving love so that we in turn can give ourselves away in love.

Thursday’s Text: Isaiah 66.10-14

2010-07-01T15:12:00.000-07:00

10 Rejoice with Jerusalem, and be glad for her,
all you who love her;
rejoice with her in joy,
all you who mourn over her—
11 that you may nurse and be satisfied
from her consoling breast;
that you may drink deeply with delight
from her glorious bosom.
12 For thus says the LORD:
I will extend prosperity to her like a river,
and the wealth of the nations like an overflowing stream;
and you shall nurse and be carried on her arm,
and dandled on her knees.
13 As a mother comforts her child,
so I will comfort you;
you shall be comforted in Jerusalem.
14 You shall see, and your heart shall rejoice;
your bodies shall flourish like the grass;
and it shall be known that the hand of the LORD is with his servants,
and his indignation is against his enemies.
(NRSV)

Chapter 66 is the last chapter in the Book of Isaiah. Most biblical scholars see (at least) two separate movements in the book of Isaiah. The first part seems to warn against the result of continued disobedience. The second part is more positive, talking about God’s post-exilic restoration of Israel. As the second part (scholar refer to this as second Isaiah) moves along the tone shifts again to a more eschatological outlook as the author talks more and more about a new heaven and a new earth. These sorts of interpretive clues absolutely cannot be ignored when faithfully reading the biblical text.

This piece from Isaiah 66 talks both about Israel’s restoration and a coming day when God’s reign will be established on all the earth. It speaks of Israel becoming a blessing to all nations. It’s important for us to remember that when God elected Israel to be God’s special people, God did so with the intention of redeeming the world. Sometimes there’s this misguided notion that Israel’s election was an election to become separate, isolated, exclusive. God’s intention has always been much more cosmic in scale. When God separated Israel to Godself it was not that God turned God’s back on the rest of creation. God desired to bring about the new creation through Israel.

Perhaps there’s a lesson here for the church. Though I don’t agree with the idea that the church is the ‘new Israel’ (such ideas tend to lead to anti-Semitic tones and precluded Israel from being part of God’s people), I do see the church as a new people of God (one that includes the Israel—though differently and we don’t have space to develop that thought). As the church we are not so much saved from the world as saved for the world. Some ecclesiologists see the church’s essence as mission. If that’s so, then we need to answer the question, “What is mission?” Without ignoring or discounting many of the notions of mission as evangelism (‘winning people to Christ’), I would suggest that mission is also something much broader. Mission has to do with God’s desire to make all things new. It has to do with God’s Kingdom here on earth.

In his hymn, “A Charge to Keep I Have,” Charles Wesley says, “To serve the present age, / My calling to fulfill; / O may it all my pow’rs engage / To do my Master’s will!” As the church we are to serve the present age. Not some past age when things we “much better”, or some future age that has yet to be realized, but this present age. If we neglect that calling, we ignore God’s will for the church. Wesley’s hymn continues: “Help me to watch and pray, / And on Thyself rely, / Assured if I my trust betray / I shall forever die.” It seems Charles Wesley clearly understood the exigent nature of God’s calling to serve this present age.

Wednesday’s Text: Psalm 30

2010-06-30T15:18:00.000-07:00

1 I will extol you, O LORD, for you have drawn me up,
and did not let my foes rejoice over me.
2 O LORD my God, I cried to you for help,
and you have healed me.
3 O LORD, you brought up my soul from Sheol,
restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit.
4 Sing praises to the LORD, O you his faithful ones,
and give thanks to his holy name.
5 For his anger is but for a moment;
his favor is for a lifetime.
Weeping may linger for the night,
but joy comes with the morning.
6 As for me, I said in my prosperity,
“I shall never be moved.”
7 By your favor, O LORD,
you had established me as a strong mountain;
you hid your face;
I was dismayed.
8 To you, O LORD, I cried,
and to the LORD I made supplication:
9 “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?
10 Hear, O LORD, and be gracious to me!
O LORD, be my helper!”
11 You have turned my mourning into dancing;
you have taken off my sackcloth
and clothed me with joy,
12 so that my soul may praise you and not be silent.
O LORD my God, I will give thanks to you forever.
(NRSV)

How do we help others recognize the kingdom of God in our midst? Certainly, recognizing God’s kingdom at work ourselves is an important part. But equally important is our praise and thanksgiving. The heading in my Bible above this psalm says, “Thanksgiving for Recovery from Grace Illness.” The psalmist was ill, perhaps to the point of death. He cried to God for help, and God healed him. God rescued him from the grave. And because of that, the psalmist not only praises God, but encourages others to join him in lifting praise and thanksgiving to God.

There is a word that many in the Evangelical church tend to shun. It is a word I wish we would recover. It’s a Greek word that come to be used to refer to the communion event. In our Evangelical tradition we prefer phrases like “Lord’s Supper” or “Communion.” And those are okay (especially “communion” –koinonia). But this Greek word should become part of our vocabulary again. It is the word Eucharist. The word simply means “thanksgiving.” When we come to celebrate communion/the Lord’s Supper, it is a Eucharistic event. In it we express in a visible and public way our thanksgiving to God for rescuing us from the grave. Viewed as Eucharist, it becomes as much a statement of faith as a means of grace.

I’m going to give everyone plenty of notice this time. On July 11th we will celebrate the Eucharist together. I invite you to once again write a short psalm of thanksgiving of your own to share as part of our Thanksgiving service on the 11th. Everyone did such a spectacular job last time, perhaps we can include this as part of our monthly Eucharist celebration. I think it would be a good thing. It would certainly help us to recognize the kingdom of God in our midst. And if we recognize God’s kingdom as work, we can help other recognize it as well with our praise and thanksgiving.

Tuesday’s Text: 2 Kings 5.1-14

2010-06-29T15:39:00.000-07:00

5 Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man and in high favor with his master, because by him the LORD had given victory to Aram. The man, though a mighty warrior, suffered from leprosy. 2 Now the Arameans on one of their raids had taken a young girl captive from the land of Israel, and she served Naaman’s wife. 3 She said to her mistress, “If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.” 4 So Naaman went in and told his lord just what the girl from the land of Israel had said. 5 And the king of Aram said, “Go then, and I will send along a letter to the king of Israel.”
He went, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten sets of garments. 6 He brought the letter to the king of Israel, which read, “When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman, that you may cure him of his leprosy.” 7 When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes and said, “Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.”
8 But when Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had torn his clothes, he sent a message to the king, “Why have you torn your clothes? Let him come to me, that he may learn that there is a prophet in Israel.” 9 So Naaman came with his horses and chariots, and halted at the entrance of Elisha’s house. 10 Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, “Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean.” 11 But Naaman became angry and went away, saying, “I thought that for me he would surely come out, and stand and call on the name of the LORD his God, and would wave his hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy! 12 Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them, and be clean?” He turned and went away in a rage. 13 But his servants approached and said to him, “Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, ‘Wash, and be clean’?” 14 So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean.
(NRSV)

How can we help others recognize the kingdom of God in our midst? Today’s text from 2 Kings hold quite a contrast in it. First we have the young servant girl who recognized the power of God’s kingdom at work in the and through the prophet Elisha. By pointing Naaman to the prophet Elisha this young girl was in fact helping Naaman recognize the kingdom of God. In contrast to her response we have the response of the king of Israel. He couldn’t see the kingdom even though it was active right there in his land. He couldn’t see the kingdom, so he was unable to help others recognize it. He was concerned only with his own skin, his own reputation.

Finally, when Naaman makes his way to the prophet’s home, he is disappointed. His disappointment is not really with Elisha’s willingness or unwillingness to help. As a matter of fact, Elisha very much desired to make God’s kingdom recognizable to Naaman. Naaman’s disappointment, though, had to do with his own self-importance—not unlike the king of Israel. Naaman figured since he was such an important person, traveled such a long way, carried a letter from his own king, Elisha should have some sort of special ritual or something. But it wasn’t about Elisha; it wasn’t about Naaman. It was about the kingdom of God and the power of that kingdom. God chose to heal without any fanfare so that there was nothing around to distract from the kingdom. The kingdom of God was recognized most clearly in the ordinariness of all that Elisha required of Naaman.

In order to help others recognize the kingdom of God in our midst, we must first recognize it ourselves. The problem, though, is when we become too preoccupied with ourselves, our position, our reputation, we can’t see it. The only way to truly recognize the kingdom of God is when our focus is turned toward others. When we become more concerned with the well being of another than with saving our own skin, that’s when the kingdom seems to manifest itself. Similarly, we tend to miss the kingdom when we look for it in the spectacular. The kingdom of God seems most at home in the ordinary. It seems to prefer stables over palaces, serving over being served, fisherman and shepherds over princes and kings. It seems to become most active among the downtrodden, the forgotten, the marginalized. It seems to become most powerful in the cup of cold water handed to the thirsty, the food provided for the hungry, the clothes given to the naked. The kingdom of God is recognized among the least, the last, and the lost.

Monday’s Text: Luke 10.1-11, 16-20

2010-06-28T14:57:00.000-07:00

10 After this the Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. 2 He said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. 3 Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. 4 Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. 5 Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house!’ 6 And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. 7 Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. 8 Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; 9 cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’ 10 But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, 11 ‘Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.’
________________________________________

16 “Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.”
17 The seventy returned with joy, saying, “Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!” 18 He said to them, “I watched Satan fall from heaven like a flash of lightning. 19 See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing will hurt you. 20 Nevertheless, do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”
(NRSV)

As I mentioned on Sunday, chapter nine of Luke signals a turning point. Whereas the first 8 chapters seem to highlight the miraculous work of Jesus, especially in fulfilling the Isaiah passage, with the beginning of chapter nine the emphasis turns more to the sayings of Jesus, as well as the involvement of the disciples in the ministry. Chapter nine begins with the sending of the twelve, here at the beginning of chapter 10 that ministry is expanded as Jesus now sends out the 70. The allusion to Moses appointing 70 elders is clear and keeps with Luke’s general theme in presenting Jesus as a prophet like Moses. Beyond that, it’s difficult to discern any additional meaning to the number seventy (which has been the subject of much speculation, though little real research stand behind most of it). Anyway, the general point of the story seems to be Jesus’ expansion of his ministry to the outcast and the lowly.

Two things jump out at me. First, is the recognition that even though their message is one of peace, one that offers healing for the sick and good news for the poor, there will be those who reject this peace. They go as lambs into the midst of wolves. Yet even in the midst of this rejection, they are to have confidence that the kingdom has indeed come near. That seems significant. In a day and an age where success is something measured by statistics and visible growth, Jesus seems to be saying that success in the kingdom is about something different. Even when met with rejection, the kingdom is still successful. It doesn’t depend on the same indicators that we depend on.

The second thing is a warning against pride. Or at least that’s how I take it. These 70 people had been privileged with great power. It would have been easy to let the results of that power get to their heads. The minute we forget that it’s not about us, we become in danger. As Christians we have been given much. But we have been given this not for ourselves, but for others. We rejoice not in the gift, but the giver. And we desire to help others encounter the giver of all good gifts.

I suppose if there’s one thing that would be good to think about as we read through the different Scriptures this week it would be, “How can we help others recognize the kingdom of God in our midst?”

Friday’s Text: Galatians 5.1, 13-25

2010-06-25T12:27:00.000-07:00

1 For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.

13 For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. 14 For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” 15 If, however, you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another.
16 Live by the Spirit, I say, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. 17 For what the flesh desires is opposed to the Spirit, and what the Spirit desires is opposed to the flesh; for these are opposed to each other, to prevent you from doing what you want. 18 But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not subject to the law. 19 Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, 20 idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, 21 envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.
22 By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, 23 gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. 24 And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. 25 If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit.
(NRSV)

Some of the images here in this piece from Paul’s letter to the Galatians are quite poignant, but perhaps none as much as the idea of freedom as slavery to one another. The idea of freedom is so often filled with self-serving concepts. We think of freedom in terms of ‘freedom from’—free from slavery, free from school, free from sin, free from having to listen to our parents, freedom from… Such a view of freedom becomes self-indulgent. It sets my own personal, individual happiness up as the source and measure of my freedom. I am free so long as I can do whatever I want… whatever makes me happy. But Paul is saying that true freedom—the kind of freedom that Christ has brought—is not freedom from, but freedom for. It is a freedom for love. Paul says that the entire law is summed up in love.

Dr. Oord defines loves this way: “To love is to act intentionally, in sympathetic/empathetic response to God and others, to promote overall well-being.” I think that is a pretty good definition. I’ll leave it to you to unpack (If you want to read more let me recommend the book, Relational Holiness, that he coauthored with Michael Lodahl). Suffice it to say that love defined in this way is not self-seeking or self-indulgent, nor is it wimpy. Dr. Oord talks about this love as a kenotic love—a self-giving love. The idea comes from the hymn in Philippians 2. Charles Wesley includes this idea in one of his hymns saying that God “emptied himself of all but love.” Love is God’s way; it is also the way in which God calls us to follow. It must become our way as well.

Jesus calls us to follow in the way of love. The hope of the future is that we (the church) learn to live out this love the way Jesus wants us to.

Thursday’s Text: 1 Kings 19.15-16, 19-21

2010-06-24T11:37:00.000-07:00

15 Then the LORD said to him, “Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus; when you arrive, you shall anoint Hazael as king over Aram. 16 Also you shall anoint Jehu son of Nimshi as king over Israel; and you shall anoint Elisha son of Shaphat of Abel-meholah as prophet in your place.
19 So he set out from there, and found Elisha son of Shaphat, who was plowing. There were twelve yoke of oxen ahead of him, and he was with the twelfth. Elijah passed by him and threw his mantle over him. 20 He left the oxen, ran after Elijah, and said, “Let me kiss my father and my mother, and then I will follow you.” Then Elijah said to him, “Go back again; for what have I done to you?” 21 He returned from following him, took the yoke of oxen, and slaughtered them; using the equipment from the oxen, he boiled their flesh, and gave it to the people, and they ate. Then he set out and followed Elijah, and became his servant.
(NRSV)

The parallels between this text and Monday’s text from Luke are hard to miss. Elisha seemed willing to follow, but first wants to go back and say his good-byes. Elijah’s response is somewhat puzzling. It’s hard to tell if he is giving permission to Elisha to return and kiss his father and mother, or if his answer is more like saying a sarcastic, “whatever.” There does seem to be something acidulous in Elijah’s words. “What have I done to you?” seems to have a bite to it. Almost like, “Well, if you think kissing daddy and mommy goodbye is more important than following God, go ahead. It’s your choice. It’s not like I’m not forcing you to do anything.” It seems Elisha understood. The text doesn’t say he ever returned to say goodbye to his parents. Instead, he shows his utter devotion by killing the oxen, and using the plow and the yoke to build a fire and cook it.

Following unconditionally into the future seems to involve more than a half-hearted devotion and sacrifice. I think of the Jerusalem church in the book of Acts, and how “they would sell their possession and goods” (Acts 2.44, see also4.32-34, and 5.1-11) for the sake of realizing the kingdom of God. There was a greater vision and mission that stretched out before them that made sacrifice easy. To follow unconditionally into the future is a call to live sacrificial lives. I just read a paper entitled, “’Crucified to the World’: Suffering, Itinerancy, and Transitions in American Methodist Ecclesiology” (Wesleyan Theological Journal: Volume 43, Number 1, Spring 2008) The main thesis of the paper was that in the early days of American Methodism there was a prevailing understanding that, in the words of Thomas Coke and Francis Asbury, “Our aim, in all our economy and ministerial labors, is to raise a holy people, crucified to the world and alive to God.” But as time went on, and numbers grew, and there was a general accretion in the economic base of the Methodists, being ‘crucified to the world’ started to be less about real sacrifice and more about a spiritual disposition.

It was out of this tempering of the early zeal that holiness movement like the Church of the Nazarene grew. They sought to recapture holiness as being crucified to the world (a caveat: being crucified to the world meant (1) a very different economy than society’s emphasis on goods and possessions, and (2) a missionary orientation toward the world rather than a withdrawal from it). It seems to me that today we stand at—or very nearly at—the same place as Methodism did nearly a century ago. I don’t say this to be overly critical, or to insinuate we need to sacrifice more. My concern is somewhat deeper. Do we today have the same passion, vision, and conviction to the mission of the church as the early Methodist, or the early Holiness movement did? The problem (as I see it) is not one of greater sacrifice, but one in which we no longer see the hope that tomorrow holds for the gospel. We have lost the vision of hope. And without that vision sacrifice for the sake of sacrifice holds little appeal. My hope and my prayer and my goal is to rekindle that vision in the life of the Shelton Church of the Nazarene. There is hope for the future. It’s called Jesus. And Jesus calls us to follow him into the hope-filled future.

Jesus, all for Jesus,
All I am and have and ever hope to be…

Wednesday’s Text: Psalm 77.1-2, 11-20

2010-06-23T14:08:00.000-07:00

Wednesday’s Text: Psalm 77.1-2, 11-20

1 I cry aloud to God,
aloud to God, that he may hear me.
2 In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord;
in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying;
my soul refuses to be comforted.

11 I will call to mind the deeds of the LORD;
I will remember your wonders of old.
12 I will meditate on all your work,
and muse on your mighty deeds.
13 Your way, O God, is holy.
What god is so great as our God?
14 You are the God who works wonders;
you have displayed your might among the peoples.
15 With your strong arm you redeemed your people,
the descendants of Jacob and Joseph. Selah
16 When the waters saw you, O God,
when the waters saw you, they were afraid;
the very deep trembled.
17 The clouds poured out water;
the skies thundered;
your arrows flashed on every side.
18 The crash of your thunder was in the whirlwind;
your lightnings lit up the world;
the earth trembled and shook.
19 Your way was through the sea,
your path, through the mighty waters;
yet your footprints were unseen.
20 You led your people like a flock
by the hand of Moses and Aaron.
(NRSV)

Following unconditionally into the future… This Sunday’s PowerPoint background is going to be a picture of a door. I thought, “what better image of following into the future than a door?” The picture, though, is unique. It’s a red door, propped up by some cinderblocks on the front porch. There is no house with the door, just the door. It’s the door of the childhood home of a friend of mine. He was born there, grew up there, brought his wife and kids there for family get-togethers. Now it’s all gone. The tornadoes that hit the Midwest a number of weeks ago tore through the home. Nothing was left. Total destruction. Yet when I look at this red door standing in the middle of the total devastation left behind by that tornado, I see hope. I see an invitation, an opportunity. I see that red door standing there calling us to step beyond the circumstances that seem so bleak into a future that burgeons with promise.

The psalmist is in the midst of some tragedy. He cries out night and day for God to hear him and answer. It is like a tornado has torn through his life and it seems like everything is in total ruins around him. Comfort does not come. He reaches for God, but God seems to elude his grasp. God seems distant and unapproachable. Yet, in the midst of this distress, there is a red door standing. The psalmist says, “I will call to mind the deeds of the Lord; / I will remember your wonders of old. / I will meditate on all your works, / and muse on your mighty deeds.” He recognizes God’s power and majesty: “Your way, O God, is holy.” And then he lists all sorts of ways God has worked to redeem the people. And then, in what is perhaps the most amazing thing in the whole psalm, he says, “Your way was through the sea, / your path through the mighty waters; / yet your footprints were unseen. / You led your people like a flock / by the hand of Moses and Aaron.” For all God’s might and power and majesty, God has chosen to work through people who have decided to follow God unconditional into the future.

There is a red door standing there in the midst of our today calling us into tomorrow. It stands in the middle of great devastation calling us to hope. It stands defiantly among the rubble and the collapse of all that it broken and fractured in our world. It stands there to remind us that God is calling us to become part of co-creating a better tomorrow, one where God’s kingdom comes and God’s will is done here on earth just as it is in heaven. I don’t know about you, but I am willing to follow unconditionally into that kind of future.

Tuesday’s (6/22/2010) Scripture: 2 Kings 2.1-2, 6-14

2010-06-22T14:12:00.000-07:00

Tuesday’s (6/22/2010) Scripture: 2 Kings 2.1-2, 6-14

Now when the LORD was about to take Elijah up to heaven by a whirlwind, Elijah and Elisha were on their way from Gilgal. 2 Elijah said to Elisha, “Stay here; for the LORD has sent me as far as Bethel.” But Elisha said, “As the LORD lives, and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” So they went down to Bethel. (NRSV)
2 Kings 2:6-14
________________________________________

6 Then Elijah said to him, “Stay here; for the LORD has sent me to the Jordan.” But he said, “As the LORD lives, and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” So the two of them went on. 7 Fifty men of the company of prophets also went, and stood at some distance from them, as they both were standing by the Jordan. 8 Then Elijah took his mantle and rolled it up, and struck the water; the water was parted to the one side and to the other, until the two of them crossed on dry ground.
9 When they had crossed, Elijah said to Elisha, “Tell me what I may do for you, before I am taken from you.” Elisha said, “Please let me inherit a double share of your spirit.” 10 He responded, “You have asked a hard thing; yet, if you see me as I am being taken from you, it will be granted you; if not, it will not.” 11 As they continued walking and talking, a chariot of fire and horses of fire separated the two of them, and Elijah ascended in a whirlwind into heaven. 12 Elisha kept watching and crying out, “Father, father! The chariots of Israel and its horsemen!” But when he could no longer see him, he grasped his own clothes and tore them in two pieces.
Elisha Succeeds Elijah
13 He picked up the mantle of Elijah that had fallen from him, and went back and stood on the bank of the Jordan. 14 He took the mantle of Elijah that had fallen from him, and struck the water, saying, “Where is the LORD, the God of Elijah?” When he had struck the water, the water was parted to the one side and to the other, and Elisha went over.

So, where do you see the theme of following unconditionally into the future in this text? Certainly, Elisha is persistent in following Elijah, even when Elijah tries to turn him away. But of course, following involves more than just walking after someone. It is about more than simply “tagging along.” To follow involves aligning one’s life with the life of another. It means adopting and assimilating their passion, vision, and mission into your own life. When Elisha requests a double portion of Elijah’s spirit, it wasn’t a self-serving request, one motivated by a desire for prestige, honor, or power. We need to remember that Elijah’s career as a prophet was that of “the troubler of Israel.” It was hardly one of prestige, honor, or power. Elisha’s request was that he may follow in Elijah’s calling as God’s prophet. Before Elisha ever caught Elijah’s spirit, he caught Elijah’s passion, he caught Elijah’s vision; Elijah’s mission had captured Elisha and he desired to extend that mission into the future.

It is interesting that after Elisha watches Elijah being taken up into heaven, he doesn’t linger long. He doesn’t build a monument or a memorial, lamenting the way things were. There is remorse at his loss—he tears his clothes in two. But that remorse doesn’t keep him locked in the past. Instead, he picks Elijah’s mantle and walks into the future. Elisha not only continues the mission, he extends it. You see, to carry the mission into the future isn’t about repeating the past; it’s not about doing what has already been done. It’s about finding new ways. It’s about creating new venues for God’s Spirit to be encountered. It’s about opening up new opportunities to engage our world with the transforming message of God’s love.

To follow unconditionally into the future presupposes two interrelated things. First, that we believe the future is something that holds enough hope and possibility that we are willing to walk into it. And second, that we have something/someone worth following. Personally, I believe the answer to both is an unequivocal ‘yes.’ The passion, vision, and mission of Jesus contrasts sharply with the prestige, honor, and power that drives our culture. It is that passion, vision, and mission that fills me with confidence that our future is full of promise and potential. It is that passion, vision, and mission that is worth risking everything to follow. It is that passion, vision, and mission that is worth any sacrifice no matter how great, no matter how radical, no matter how ridiculous.

Monday’s (6/21/2010) Text: Luke 9.51-62

2010-06-22T14:10:00.000-07:00

Monday’s (6/21/2010) Text: Luke 9.51-62

51 When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. 52 And he sent messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to make ready for him; 53 but they did not receive him, because his face was set toward Jerusalem. 54 When his disciples James and John saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” 55 But he turned and rebuked them. 56 Then they went on to another village.
57 As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” 58 And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” 59 To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” 60 But Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” 61 Another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” 62 Jesus said to him, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

Ooo… what a juicy piece of Scripture. It is just dripping with theological implications. It is oozing with theological overtones that challenge us in so many ways. It is so packed full of theological demurs that it should cause us to pause and reconsider our own position. The overarching theme, though, is unmistakable what does it means to follow Jesus? Following Jesus is not an easy task. We don’t set the terms. That’s one thing that really stands out in these verses. We are called to follow. We are not given the option for setting our terms or for establishing the conditions of our following. One finds Jesus destination offensive, another wanted 5-star accommodations, another had to settle some unfinished business, still another was unwilling to move forward without longing for the way things were. All illustrate the impossibility of following Jesus conditionally. They all also illustrate that Jesus call to fallow is a call to a destination.

That destination is ahead of us. It lies in the future, and it can never be arrived at by going back, by returning to some past or former place. To follow we must go forward. Going forward, though, is itself rife with danger and uncertainty. The future is unknown. It is unsettled. It is open to possibility. The potential to shape and transform the future is why Jesus leads us there. We have the opportunity to make our tomorrows into truly something amazing. Jesus leads us into the future, because we have the opportunity to shape that future, to influence our tomorrows with the kingdom of God in such a way that that kingdom becomes actualized—even if in only some small way. By refusing to move forward, by attaching ourselves too rigidly to the past, we can unwittingly hinder the coming of God’s kingdom. Something none of us, I’m sure, want to do.

Throughout the rest of this week’s Scripture readings, keep an eye out for this theme of following unconditionally into the future.

Friday’s Text: Galatians 1.11-24

2010-06-04T10:22:00.000-07:00

Friday’s Text: Galatians 1.11-24

11 For I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that the gospel that was proclaimed by me is not of human origin; 12 for I did not receive it from a human source, nor was I taught it, but I received it through a revelation of Jesus Christ.
13 You have heard, no doubt, of my earlier life in Judaism. I was violently persecuting the church of God and was trying to destroy it. 14 I advanced in Judaism beyond many among my people of the same age, for I was far more zealous for the traditions of my ancestors. 15 But when God, who had set me apart before I was born and called me through his grace, was pleased 16 to reveal his Son to me, so that I might proclaim him among the Gentiles, I did not confer with any human being, 17 nor did I go up to Jerusalem to those who were already apostles before me, but I went away at once into Arabia, and afterwards I returned to Damascus.
18 Then after three years I did go up to Jerusalem to visit Cephas and stayed with him fifteen days; 19 but I did not see any other apostle except James the Lord’s brother. 20 In what I am writing to you, before God, I do not lie! 21 Then I went into the regions of Syria and Cilicia, 22 and I was still unknown by sight to the churches of Judea that are in Christ; 23 they only heard it said, “The one who formerly was persecuting us is now proclaiming the faith he once tried to destroy.” 24 And they glorified God because of me.

Galatians is an interesting Epistle. Many have called it a mini Book of Romans because of its deep and rich theology, touching on many of the same themes as Paul does in Romans. Galatians, though, carries a much stronger polemic tone than does Romans. Here Paul is confronting a critical issue. Even his salutation seems heavy and confrontational. Rather than his typical greeting acknowledging his apostleship, here Paul inserts the polemically loaded words, “Sent neither by human commission nor from human authorities, but through Jesus Christ and God the Father, who raised him from the dead.” Paul comes out with guns blazing. And he doesn’t let up, calling them bewitched, accusing them of deserting Christ in order to follow a perverted gospel, which is no gospel at all. Two times he says that anyone who preaches such a perversion should be accursed. These are some pretty strong words from Paul. But like every piece of Scripture, there is a specific context and situation that is being addressed. It is imprudent and irresponsible to interpret Scripture outside of that context and situation. When Paul talks about “a different gospel,” he has something specific in mind.

The specific issue in this case has to do with the sufficiency of Christ’s atoning death and the degree of salvation that is provided by that death. Paul had preached that Christ’s sacrifice provided all one needs to receive the fullness of God’s grace and forgiveness. Paul preached that not only was Christ all sufficient, but any attempt to add to it derogated God’s free gift. But after Paul left, a group of “super-apostles” showed up saying that Paul only had it partly right. After all, he was a newbie, hardly experienced enough to get it all right. He didn’t fully understand all the traditions involved. Certainly, Jesus saves, but only so far. If you want to be really saved, you need to become practicing Jews as well. At issue, then, is ultimately the source and means of salvation. When Paul speaks of a different gospel, he is talking about a different way of being saved. It has nothing to do with peripheral issues such as forms of worship, ecclesial practices, or doctrinal issues such as those that have so divided the modern church. Paul’s invective, instead, is concerned with purely soteriological issues. Paul’s message was simple, concise, and straight forward: Christ crucified. The working out of that salvific event, however, is far more detailed and nuanced (as is evidenced by the variegated views presented in the NT).

In the above text Paul defends his apostleship, not in order to justify himself, or to set him and his ministry over and against the ministry of any other. Instead Paul is pointing to the divine origin of his apostleship—the fact that it didn’t rest on “human origin” but on God. Paul is an apostle because God sent him. It was God who revealed his Son, Jesus, to Paul. It was God who set him apart to proclaim Christ to the Gentiles. Because the gospel has divine authorship, it also has a divine authority and commissioning. In pointing out the divine authority of his apostleship, Paul is setting the foundation for the divine authorship of his message.

Care must be taken here, though, so that we don’t wrongfully interpret Paul’s words about “not confer[ring] with any human being” and receiving his message directly from God as arguing for a purely fideistic understanding of revelation. Paul’s erudition is without question. What changed, though, was now all that learning and theological brilliance found a new center—Jesus. It’s not that Paul had to unlearn everything, and then God supernaturally downloaded a whole new operating system into his head. In the revelation of Christ, everything Paul already new found its one true source, meaning, and purpose.

The Service of the Table

2010-02-26T15:31:00.000-08:00

William Willimon insightfully points out that, “In our worship life, infrequency usually breeds indifference and misunderstanding. Rather than making Communion ‘something special,’ as some churches claim to do, infrequent celebrations lead a congregation to regard Communion as something optional, unusual, and dispensable.”[1] The reality, though, is just the opposite: Communion is not something optional, unusual or dispensable; it is the principle reason why the church gathers. In his sermon, “The Duty of Constant Communion,” John Wesley lays out his argument for an increased frequency of celebrating the Lord’s Supper. In it he asserts that “it is the duty of every Christian to receive the Lord’s Supper as often as he can.”[2] For Wesley, the Lord’s Supper was the “grand channel” whereby the grace of the Holy Spirit is conveyed to human souls.[3] Through it we experience God’s pardon from sin, the power to overcome sin, and the strength to become perfected in love. Later in the same sermon, “The Duty of Constant Communion,” Wesley says:

The grace of God given herein confirms to us the pardon of our sins, and enables us to leave them. As our bodies are strengthened by bread and wine, so our souls by these tokens of the body and the blood of Christ. This is the food of our souls: This gives strength to perform our duty, and leads us on to perfection. If, therefore, we have any regard for the plain command of Christ, if we desire the pardon of our sins, if we wish for strength to believe, to love and obey God, then we should neglect no opportunity of receiving the Lord’s Supper; then we must never turn our backs on the feast which our Lord has prepared for us.[4]

Yet it should also be recognized that for Wesley the central reason for coming to the means of grace was not merely obedience to God’s command, but that in it we might encounter God’s presence.[5] As Wesleyan’s we affirm the real presence of God in the Eucharist (thanksgiving). Not in some magical way that has changed the substance of ordinary bread and wine (juice) into the physical body and blood of Christ, but in way that relates the real presence to those who faithfully receive the bread and the cup. Through the agency of the Holy Spirit, Christ’s presence in made real to those who come to the table, and so we are able to “participate directly in that presence with all of its pardoning and transforming benefits.”[6] Coming with our hands open reminds us that we receive this presence as a gift.

[1] William H. Willimon, A Guide to Preaching and Leading Worship (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008) 43.

[2] John Wesley, The Works of John Wesley, Vol. 7, “The Duty of Constant Communion” (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2002), 147.

[3] Randy Maddox, Responsible Grace: John Wesley’s Practical Theology (Nashville: Kingswood Books, 1994), 202.

[4] Ibid., 148.

[5] See Wesley’s Sermon, “Means of Grace,” The Works of John Wesley, Vol. 5.

[6] Randy Maddox, Responsible Grace: John Wesley’s Practical Theology (Nashville: Kingswood Books, 1994), 204.

The Service of the Word

2010-02-24T12:05:00.000-08:00

As the people of God, the church is uniquely formed by Scripture. The authority of Scripture is found in its formative properties. One biblical scholar says, “The first and primary way in which Scripture is authoritative in the church is simply that this collection of documents is privileged in the life of the church and, indeed, privileged in such a way as fundamentally to shape that life.”[1] Through the reading of Scripture, the life of the church takes shape. We are invited to “imagine the world that Scripture imagines.”[2] And the world that Scripture imagines is uniquely different than the world we encounter in the course of the week. It is a world where the poor are called blessed, where the last become first, where the least becomes the greatest, where power and position and clout are replaced by a cross a crown of thrones and an empty tomb. And we are invited to become part of that world. Willimon points out that “Behind all Scripture is not simply the question, ‘Will you agree?’ but rather the more political, ‘Will you join up?’”[3] As Scripture is read as part of the liturgy of the church, this question becomes the functional center upon which the entire service turns. The Scripture is read, the sermon is preached not to inform, not to provide facts—historical or ethical—but to pose the question, “Will you join up?” The invitation is to participate in this strange new world the Scripture opens to us. And as the church participates in this new world we are confronted by the upsetting reality that it is this strange new world that is the real world.

We respond in the only way we can—through faith. Faith calls into being what is not as yet fully formed. Faith sees the new world of God’s kingdom proleptically as already here. What we have heard with our ears; what we have allowed to shape our life; what we have felt stirring in our heart, we now proclaim with our mouths. The Nicene Creed sets forth the core Christian beliefs held by the Universal Church since its inception. The Creed was adopted by the first ecumenical council held in 325ce at the city of Nicaea, and has been a part of Christian worship ever since. It has also effectively served as a safeguard and defender against heresy. Confessing our faith together aligns us with the church that not only reaches around the world, but stretches back through the centuries.

If ‘liturgy’ means the work of the people, than the prayers of the people must be the heart of this work. The prayers invite each of us to participate in the praying, not merely stand by as spectators listening to another pray. It is the prayers of the people and so the people pray. Through the prayers, intersession is made for the church, our leaders, the world, unbelievers, our enemies, and for ourselves. And as the prayers of the people conclude, the church is able to examine herself more closely. We remember that we live in a fallen world filled with injustice and oppression. We recognize that we are involuntarily part of systems that contribute to the dehumanizing of others. We acknowledge that even our best of intentions, even when done through the pure motive of love, might still inadvertently hurt and offend others. And so as we prepare for the service of the table, we come to God and confess our sins and our shortcomings.

John Wesley’s oft quoted dictum distinguishing sin properly understood as a willful transgression of a known ordinance of God, and sin improperly understood as mere mistakes or infirmities has unfortunately led to the abrogation of public confession in many churches. It should be noted that while Wesley did distinguish between sin and infirmity, he continually affirmed that even our infirmities were to be confessed, thus appropriating the merits of Christ’s atoning blood.

(1.) Every one may mistake as long as he lives. (2.) A mistake in opinion may occasion a mistake in practice. (3.) Every such mistake is a transgression of the perfect law. Therefore, (4.) Every such mistake, were it not for the blood of the atonement, would expose to eternal damnation. (5.) It follows, that the most perfect have continual need of the merits of Christ, even for their actual transgressions, and may say for themselves, as well as for their brethren, ‘Forgive us our trespasses.’[4]

John Wesley recognized that even a person filled with the love of God is still liable to involuntary transgressions. And these involuntary transgressions need to be placed under the atoning blood of Christ.[5] Our confessional prayer together recognizes both outright sin as well as involuntary transgressions, but even more it recognizes the power of God’s grace to not only forgive, but to overcome these sins—both properly and improperly so called. The purpose of confessing together is not to foster or further the notion of a “sinning church” (i.e. we sin daily in word thought and deed), but to commend ourselves to the mercy of God’s grace and the power of that grace to work in our lives to overcome sin and infirmity, and so perfecting us in love. The good news is, if anyone is in Christ they are a new creation; the old is gone, the new has come.

[1] Robert W. Jenson, The Art of Reading Scripture. eds. Ellen Davis and Richard Hays, "Scripture’s Authority in the Church" (Grand Rapids: William Eerdmans Publishing, 2003), 36.

[2] L. Gregory Jones, The Art of Reading Scripture. eds. Ellen Davis and Richard Hays, "Embodying Scripture in the Community of Faith" (Grand Rapids: William Eerdmans Publishing, 2003), 146.

[3] William Willimon, Pastor: The Theology and Practice of Ordained Ministry (Nashville: Abibgdon, 2002), 129.

[4] John Wesley, The Works of John Wesley, Vol. 11, “Plain Account of Christian Perfection” (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2002), 395.

[5] Ibid., 396.

The Gathering

2010-02-23T14:19:00.000-08:00

Gordon Lathrop points out that as the church comes together for worship, “The astonishing truth is this: the most important symbol of Christ in the room is not the minister, not the altar, not even the bread and wine or the water of the font. It is the assembly, the Body of Christ, as the New Testament says.”[1] The theological significance of the gathering comes from the biblical declaration that once we were not a people, but now we are God’s people.[2] The gathering of the church for worship comes in response to God’s call. “You did not choose me but I chose you.”[3] We come together as the people of God because God has called us into being. We did not decided one day to “have church.” Rather, it is the Word made flesh, the incarnate God who entered creation, lived as a man, died on a Cross, and was raised to new life that calls us to gather as God’s unique people. In this gathering we become the sign, symbol, and witness to the resurrection.

The function of The Gathering is to turn our focus from the world that we have come from with all its demands and burdens, toward the world to which God calls us with its promise of peace and rest and renewal. Through the opening hymn, the invocative prayer, the Great Litany we are given the opportunity to move from the kingdom of day-timers, deadlines, and distractions into the kingdom of God. The Gathering is important because it prepares us to hear from God. An important part of that preparation is The Great Litany. The words of this ancient prayer call out to God who has shown us mercy, reminding us of our continual need for that mercy in our lives to not only keep us safe, but to empower us to be God’s unique people in the world. “Once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.”[4] The words, “Have mercy upon us,” are not meant to coax God into giving something God is reluctant to give, but to avail ourselves of the mercy already abundantly available to all who ask. The Great Litany concludes with a short prayer, and then the Service of the Word begins.

[1] Gordon W. Lathrop, The Pastor: a Spirituality (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2006), 27.

[2] See 1 Peter 2.10

[3] John 15.16, NRSV.

[4] 1 Peter 2.10, NRSV.

Why Liturgy

2010-02-22T15:02:00.000-08:00

The question you may be asking is, why Liturgy? The word itself often evokes strong opinions one way or another. To some it is the relic of a dead and meaningless ritual. To others, it is the very life and breath of the Spirit moving within the worshiping community.

It has often been pointed out that the Greek word we get our English word ‘liturgy’ from basically means ‘the work of the people.’ But it has even deeper etymological roots. Originally the Greek word, leitourgia, referred to an action by which a group of people became something corporately which they had not been as a mere collection of individuals.[1] Too often what is passed off as ‘contemporary’ worship caters to the idea of the church being a collection of individuals—an aggregate of individual believers who have come together because they share a common interest. This is true whether one’s idea of contemporary is 2010 or 1950.

Historically, though, when the church comes together on Sunday, she does so as more than an aggregate of individual believers. Community is more than a social enclave of likeminded individuals. Community transcends the individual by insisting that only together do we become truly human. As Stanley Grenz points out, “Our human destiny is communal. Indeed, the biblical writers consistently present our eternal home in social, rather than individual terms.”[2] Liturgy reminds us that as the church we are a particular people imbued with a particular “constitutive narrative.”[3] The liturgy rehearses this narrative in a way that is embodied by the church and forms the church into the eschatological people of God. In this, the church stands as a reminder to the world that the end to which all creation moves is nothing less than the shared participation in the perichoretic community of God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It is this end—telos—that liturgy embodies as it forms the church into the new people of God.

It should also be noted that liturgy not only serves to help us become something corporately which we can never become as a mere collection of individuals, but it also stands in sharp contrast to the world. By doing so it reminds us that the church is uniquely the people of God—a royal priesthood, a peculiar people, a holy nation. Too often it seems that there is little difference between what we encounter in our worship service and what we encounter in the world. The church becomes subject to the world when she imitates the world. The church becomes idolatrous when she accommodates the world in the attempt to be relevant. Alexander Schmemann notes that, “In church today, we so often find we meet the same old world, not Christ and His Kingdom. We do not realize that we never get anywhere because we never leave any place behind.”[4] The Liturgy of the church sets the gathering apart from the world. When we enter into the sacred movement of the church at worship through the historical liturgy of Word and Table, we do not meet the same old world. We encounter a new world, a different world; we encounter the kingdom of God. And perhaps even more, we are encountered by the kingdom of God.

God’s kingdom encounters us through the retelling and the reenactment of God’s story. When we hear again (or perhaps hear for the first time) the grand narrative of God’s love, the liturgy reminds us that this is our story. It is about us. We are the ones who have wandered off to that far country to eat the slop of pigs; we are the ones who all too often find ourselves walking on the other side of the road so as not to encounter the one who needs our help; we are the ones caught in adultery; we are also the ones who stand all too ready to stone the poor sinner caught in their sin. The liturgy reminds us that we come to God’s table as Lazarus, begging for crumbs; we come as the unclean women seeking to simply touch the hem of Jesus’ cloak; we come as the Prodigal falling at his father’s feet pleading, “I am no longer worthy to be called your son, make me one of your servants.” The liturgy encounters us with the kingdom of God because it pulls us from the world and the culture that daily bombards us and immerses us in a new world and an alien culture that stand cross-wise to everything we know, and it declares that this strange new world is what is really real, this is what is truly true: the kingdom of God has come, and because of that we are being transformed.

The liturgy reminds us that we are more than a gathering of individuals. Instead, we are a community that finds its identity together in the shared story of God’s love and redemption. The liturgy calls us to remember that the Church, as God’s renewed people, stands in contrast as an alternative to what the world embodies, incarnating God’s vision for humanity and all creation. But the liturgy does one more thing for us as well. It teaches us a new language—a language of confession and forgiveness, a language of grace and love, a language of prayer and praise. Through the movement of the liturgy we learn the vocabulary of God. But it is more than just in the hearing of the words. Through the movement of the liturgy we perform these words. It is through their performance that words find their transformational power. As we enact and embody the words we hear and proclaim they begin to change us. We move from death to life, from darkness to light. And when the service draws to a close and we are dismissed to return back into the world, we take the performance with us. The language of confession and forgiveness, grace and love, prayer and praise goes with us because it has become a part of us. And the practices we perform in the church become the practices we perform in the world. In this way the Church serves the world by truly being the Church—a royal priesthood, a peculiar people, a holy nation.

[1] Alexander Schmemann, For the Life of the World (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1963), 25.

[2] Stanley Genze, The Cambridge Companion to Postmodern Theology. ed. Kevin J. Vanhoozer, "Ecclisiology" (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 259.

[3] Ibid., 257.

[4] Alexander Schmemann, For the Life of the World (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1963), 28.

Movement of Worship

2010-02-21T13:03:00.000-08:00

Here's brief overview of the movement of worship:

Perhaps the oldest known record of the early church in worship comes from the First Apology of Justin Martyr. Justin gives us a picture of worship from about A. D. 90. These basic patterns for the church’s Sunday gatherings have survived in the liturgy of the Church for centuries.

On the day which is called Sunday, all who live in the cities or in the countryside gather together in one place. And the memoirs of the apostles or the writings of the prophets are read as long as there is time. Then, when the reader has finished, the president, in a discourse, admonishes and invites the people to practice the examples of virtue. Then we all stand up together and offer prayers. And, as we mentioned before, when we have finished the prayer, bread is presented, and wine with water; the president likewise offers up prayers and thanksgivings according to his ability, and the people assent by saying, Amen. The elements which have been “eucharistized” are distributed and received by each one; and they are sent to the absent by the deacons. Those who are prosperous, if they wish, contribute what each one deems appropriate; and the collection is deposited with the president; and he takes care of the orphans and widows, and those who are needy because of sickness or other cause, and the captives, and the strangers who sojourn amongst us—in brief, he is the curate of all who are in need.

William Willimon and others have recognized eight basic elements in Justin’s description of worship. (1) The church gathers, (2) The church remembers, (3) The church listens and then speaks, (4) The church prays, (5) The church offers, (6) The church gives, (7) The church distributes the gifts of God to the people, and (8) The church scatters into the World. Robert Webber simplifies these eight elements into four general liturgical movements that make up the worship service. It is these four movements that will form the pattern for our service during Lent. Later in this booklet we will spend some time briefly looking at the theological significance of each of these movements, but for now we will simply list them. The service begins first with the Gathering; this is followed by the service of the Word; next is the service of the Table; and finally, the Sending.

Lent

2010-02-20T11:54:00.000-08:00

Well, tomorrow is the first Sunday of Lent. During Lent we follow a more formal and traditional liturgy of worship. This year I decided to write a little booklet to explain some of the theological reasons behind the historic pattern of Word and Table. Over the next few days (or so) I'm going to post excepts here. Here is the first one; an introduction:

As we move into the season of Lent we take time to examine ourselves. Lent has traditionally been a time of reflection, contemplation, and perhaps above all, a time of penance and repentance, remembering the depth of human sin and depravity. The colors of the season—deep purples, blues and the various shades of black and charcoal—remind us that we were all once children of the dark, and that it is out of this deep darkness that God has called us into the light that is Christ. The word Lent means spring. Even the season is a reminder that out of the stark barrenness of winter comes new life. Lent is deeply contemplative, but it is not mournful or sorrowfully solemn. On the contrary, it is full of hope and promise.

Lent is a journey. In it we make our way to Calvary and the cross, only to find ourselves confronted by the empty tomb and the resurrection. Yet this is not an individual journey. It is not one we make by ourselves. Indeed, it is not a journey we can make by ourselves. We make this journey together. Only as the Church do we truly encounter the journey of Lent. Only as the Church do we have any hope of finding our true selves. That is why what we do on Sunday is essential to who we are as the Church. Worship is the primary place where the Church learns what it means to be the Church. And according to one author, “Corporate worship is essentially an act of common prayer” (Willimon).

The goal of our worship services during this season of Lent is to provide structure and continuity to our act of common prayer. The desire is to set this season apart from the rest of the year, making it distinctive in a way that emphasizes the communal aspect of worship, prayer, and confession. We do this through the aligning of ourselves with the rich historic tradition of the worshiping Church.

Work cited:
William H. Willimon, A Guide to Preaching and Leading Worship (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008) 27.

In a Rut

2010-01-23T13:29:00.000-08:00

I think my life is in need of some sort of excitement. As painful as it may be to admit, I think I must be a pretty boring person—or at least, I’ve become stuck in a sort of rut. Now, I am the sort of person who likes routines, but I don’t like those routines to become ruts. And I think that’s what’s happening. So I ask myself, “How do I get out of the rut?” Here are a couple of things that might help:
• Change my running routes
• Determine to stop vegging in front of the TV and read.
• Write more
• Keep my eyes open for fresh perspectives
• Absorb as much as possible at the up and coming conferences.
• Find a project to push me
Maybe these will help. Or maybe, I’m just hopelessly boring. Oh! I hope not.

Haiti

2010-01-13T13:24:00.001-08:00

Like many today, I’m somewhat stunned by some of the images and information coming out of Haiti after yesterday’s earthquake. After last year’s work and witness trip that most of my family went on, Haiti has had a special place in our heart. We have some very good friends who spent many years as missionaries in Haiti. Our church district has adopted Haiti for the next few years. There just seems to be lots of connection with the country, and most of all the people. Our prayers go out to the people, the relief workers, and all affected. But not just our prayers, we need to find a way to help in a very concrete and tangible way. Now is the time to put our faith into action.

Insisting on our One Meaning

2010-01-09T13:09:00.000-08:00

I just read a great post by A. K. M. Adam on the problem with insisting on a single meaning in any given text. He articulates the point far more clearly than I could, so I encourage you to check out his post on “One Meaning to Rule them All.” On additional thought that came to mind, though, as I read through his post is that of creating Others. When we insist on the possibility of only one meaning (which, of course, is the meaning we support) we cut others off; we marginalize people. This might be an interesting avenue of thought. Meanwhile, though, I suggest you check out AKAM’s far more lucid thoughts on the subject.

The Bible as Scripture

2010-01-08T13:17:00.000-08:00

Often the word “Bible” and the word “Scripture” are used interchangeably. One talks about reading the Bible and reading Scripture as meaning the same thing. Yet as Joel Green argues, when one is reading the Bible it does not necessarily follow that one is reading the Bible as Scripture (Green 3). The difference lies in the aim or purpose. To interpret the Bible is to discover what it meant in order to figure out what it means. Interpreting the Bible treats the text as an object to be dissected. To interpret Scripture is to engage the text in a way that allows it to shape a person’s identity (Green 5). To interpret Scripture is to recognize its function and purpose as being primarily that of character formation.

It is completely possible to read and interpret the Bible without being a Christian. It is even possible to interpret the Bible accurately without ever claiming to believe in what the text claims. Interpreting the Bible in this sense is akin to reading the Bible as one would read any other book. Interpreting the Bible would be no different than interpreting Homer’s Iliad. This approach to interpreting the Bible is in a large part due to the influence of the modern scientific methods on the interpretive process, which insists on objectivity. This quest for objectivity tends to turn the biblical material into an object to be examined (Green 13). It is after information, not transformation. On the other hand, the interpretation of Scripture is after transformation.

The interpretation of Scripture begins not with the quest for objectivity, but with the recognition that one is approaching the process of interpretation from very specific biases with very clear presuppositions. The Scripture is read and interpreted as God’s word, not merely as one more piece of literature among many. The Scripture is read and interpreted recognizing our theological purposes and prejudices. The Scripture is read and interpreted as a Christian (Green 5-6). Yet even here, the Scripture is not read and interpreted merely as a means to discover doctrinal or theological nuggets; it is interpreted to shape and form character.

It should be noted that the formation of the Christian canon was not the function of an Ecumenical council deciding which texts were authoritative and should be included. Rather, it was the recognition of how certain texts were already functioning authoritatively because of the formative role they played within the community of faith (Thompson 3). It was, and is, Scripture’s role in forming character that is the basis of Scripture’s authority. This formative function of Scripture is also indispensible for the evaluation of the interpretation of Scripture. In other words, the church, as interpreter of Scripture, must look for ways to embody its interpretation in “worship, practices, and responses toward others” (Thompson 12). Joel Green notes that, “Narrative is not just a ‘story’ but also an ‘action’” (Green 168).

Interpreting the Bible is about distilling information from a text. It treats the text as a repository of facts—historical, doctrinal, or theological. It requires no faith investment on the reader’s part. As a matter of fact, it prefers it that way. Interpreting the Bible is over once the meaning has been located and extracted. Interpreting Scripture, on the other hand, approaches the interpretive process from an unabashedly Christian perspective. It recognizes its theological presuppositions as integral to the interpretive process. It invites the interpreter to think with the Scriptures, not about them (Green 59). Interpreting Scripture invites response. Without response the interpretive processes is incomplete.

*Green, Joel B. Seized by Truth: Reading the Bible as Scripture. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2007.
*Thompson, Richard P. “Scripture, Community and Conversation: Rethinking Theological Interpretation Canonically.” Richard P. Thompson. 2007.

God is Love

2010-01-07T11:30:00.000-08:00

I’ve been reading this book by John D. Zizioulas called, Being as Communion, and I’m finding it very helpful in pushing my thinking about God, personhood, and the church in new and broader ways. For one, the author approaches these issues from an Orthodox perspective, drawing deeply from Easter Patristic theologians—particularly the Cappadocian’s. One of the topics addressed early on is that of God’s being, especially as related to God’s ontological freedom. This becomes important when we think of the two ideas of (1) God is love, and (2) God loves. The first is an ontological statement—God’s being is love. The second is a statement concerning God’s actions, what God does—God loves. The problem I wrestle with is the notion that God loves, not out of choice, but out of necessity. If this is the case, then is God free?

Interestingly, Zizioulas indicates that “the only exercise of freedom in an ontological manner is love.” But he also indicates that love is not something that comes from or is a property of God’s substance, but is God’s substance. Substance, though, must be understood in terms of communion. It is not an object or a thing, but should be understood as having a relational character. For this reason love is not so much a qualifying or descriptive property of God but is “the supreme ontological predicate” that constitutes God’s substance. Love is God’s mode of existence. This mode of existence came about not out of necessity, but out of a choice. That God exists as Trinity means God exists in communion, a communion freely willed by the Father—God as Father chose to “beget” the Son and “bring forth” the Spirit. In this God exercises God’s ontological freedom. God’s freedom, then, comes from God’s being. Because God’s ontological freedom is based on God’s existence as love—the free choice of the Father’s begetting and bringing forth—love does not mediate against God’s freedom, but is the condition and exercise of that freedom.

*John D. Zizioulas, Being As Communion (New York: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1985)

Maybe I'll try this again

2010-01-05T14:39:00.000-08:00

Well, school is done for now. Graduation is in May, but I'm finished with all the classes. So I was thinking that I might need someplace to put down some of the ideas that surface from what I'm reading. I suppose it's a discipline thing. In school, I read and then have to write about what I read. It's a good way to digest and think through things. Now that school is done, that accountability is missing. Anyway, I just thought I might give it a try here. And I think I'll start first thing tomorrow.

Half Marathon

2008-09-06T11:14:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd add the link to the Maui Marathon web page so you can check out the run, past results and photos. I don't know how soon they will have this year's results posted, but you can always check to see.

Also here's the link to our vacation blog where we will try and update daily with pics and stuff.

John

Changing the World

2008-07-08T13:41:00.001-07:00

No doubt you’ve all seen them at book stores. There’s one for just about everything—computers to cooking, gardening to gambling, the stock market to the local market. I’m talking about the “Idiot” books and the “For Dummy” books. We love those books. They get to the point. They don’t waste our time with a lot of theory, long stories that all too often seem to miss the point. They tell us what we need to know—how to make that stupid “error” message go away on our computer screen—and that’s it. They make life easier, not more complex.

The Bible, though, is different. It’s not a “how to” book. It’s not an “owner’s manual.” It definitely has a way of making things more complex—much more complex. David called it a lamp to his feet, and a light to his path. A lamp illuminates. A light shines. They allow us to see what could not be seen otherwise. They help us see things differently.

The Bible is not so much a “Life for Dummies” kind of book, a manual that helps us through life so we can get to heaven. Rather it is a book that challenges us to change our perspectives. It’s a book that dares us to be different, a book that provokes us to transform our world. As Will Willimon says, “From Scripture, the church is given more than directives, rules, codes for contemporary Christian behavior, The main gift of Scripture is a world, a culture, a reality constructed (as all worlds, cultures, and reality are fabricated) through words. Words make the world.”

Theologian George Linbeck says that in the Bible we engage a complex redescription of reality. He says that when we read God’s word we are to put our “reality” within the “scriptural framework rather than translating Scripture into extrascriptural categories” (which fundamentalist tend to do). He says “It is the text, so to speak, which absorbs the world, rather than the world the text.”

Anyway, I think I’ve gotten a bit sidetracked (sorry). The point I think I’m trying to make is how we approach Scripture makes a world a difference in how Scripture affects us and our world. We need to approach God’s word as if we were opening a package that contained a ticking time bomb. It’s full of complexity and mystery. It pulls us into its world. It challenges us with a “strange new world,” one that is wild and unpredictable, one full of grace and boundless mercy. And then it sends us back into our world. But we come back with a whole new perspective, a “redescription of reality.” And this new scriptural framework slowly absorbs our world, recreating it according to God’s word. The kingdom of God has come near. And nothing will be the same.

2008-07-04T15:02:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about Karl Bath’s essay “The Strange New World within the Bible.” I've been thinking about this whole notion of unleashing our ideas of God, Jesus, and the Bible.

You see, by reducing the Bibles to a source of propositions we have chained God. In his essay Barth talks about how we can find most anything we want in the Bible. If we look for history, it is there. If we look for morality, it is there. If we look for religion, it is there. If we seek to defend a certain from of religion, or worship, or whatever, we can find the ammunition to arm ourselves with all the propositional firepower we need to defend our position and defeat all other positions (except, of course, they too have armed themselves and fight just as sure of their version of the truth as we are). The point for Barth is there is something more contained in the Bible. The problem is, in Barth words, “we measure God with our own measure, we conceive God with our own conceptions, we wished ourselves a God according to our own wishes.”

I think that’s part of Paul is warning Timothy about when he says that “the time is coming when people will not put up with sound doctrine, but having itching ears, they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own desires, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander away to myths” (2 Timothy 4.3-4). We tend to think of this piece as talking to heresies and “vain philosophies of the world.” And certainly it does. But I also think that it addresses the issue we face today with folks thinking their idea of truth is the Truth. I think it has to do with the tendency for religious folks to build their doctrinal fortresses around propositional proof-texts, thinking somehow they have defended God and truth when in fact all they have done is put a leash on God. I think part of what Paul is saying is there is a wildness to God that makes us uncomfortable. So our tendency is to want to tame that wildness, put a muzzle on the bite in the Bible, and control the Spirit.

Personally I think that is the great flaw of many fundamentalist movements of the church—especially here in America. They have gathered around themselves preachers who are willing to scratch their itchy ears. Not so much in the sense that they have “watered down the gospel,” or they are preaching a “prosperity gospel,” but in the sense that the Truth of the Bible is reduced to truths (or propositions about truths) about the Bible that can be codified and defended. Preaching the wildness of God is replaced by defenses of propositions. For many, the itching ear that needs to be scratched is the right human thought about God—as they define it.

Here’s where Barth really helps. In a brilliant piece from his essay, Barth says:

It is not the right human though about God which forms the content of the Bible, but the right divine thoughts about men. The Bible tells us not how we should talk with God but what he says to us; not how we find the way to him, but how he has sought and found the way to us; not the right relation in which we must place ourselves to him, but the covenant which he has make with all who are Abraham’s spiritual children and which he has sealed once and for all in Jesus Christ.

When we forget that it all begins and ends with God, we begin to tame the wildness of God. When we begin to think that it is how we think about God that is important and not how God thinks about us, we begin to develop an itch and go looking for someone to scratch it (maybe that’s why there’s so much church hopping in our modern world). When we begin to think that we need to find a way to God, and loose sight of the fact that it is God who has already made a way toward us, we drift away from grace. When we begin to think that somehow our faith (and ultimately our salvation) is synergistic, we have caged God, putting God on display in our churches.

Cheap Grace

2008-03-29T09:36:00.000-07:00

Boy do I feel stressed... pressed in... overwhelmed. Things just seem to have piled up. Next week is NMI Convention and District Assembly, pile on top of that school, and church. Anyway, I'm just feeling stretched a bit thin.

For class I just finished Bonhoeffer's Cost of Discipleship and now need to write a paper on it. I'm thinking along the lines of "Cheap grace makes for a cheap God." Bonhoeffer talks a lot about the idea of how cheap grace is being peddled in churches. He calls it a cheap covering for sin. "Cheap grace," he says, "is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion with confession, absolution without personal confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate."

You see, I think we've made grace about us. And that cheapens it. We've made grace about forgiveness, about what we get. We've even created a cheesy little acronym: GRACE, God's Resources at Christ's Expense. The implication is, of course, that it is God's resources for our use (or misuse).

Grace, though, God calling us to follow. And as Bonhoeffer points out, "When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die." The thing about grace is it has very little to do with us. It is about God; it is about God taking on flesh and blood, coming into a world of suffering to suffer with it, and ultimately to die for it. Nothing cheap about that. Grace is about God becoming incarnate. And that's why grace is so important for the church to get hold of--not cheap grace that is dispensed as a doctrine or a principle, but costly grace that bleeds for sin. You see, the Church is the presence of Christ just as Christ is the presence of God. And when the Church peddles cheap grace it turns God into a dollar store God.

Mystery

2008-02-20T13:53:00.000-08:00

Mystery is safe and a danger.

Danger first:

First it scares me because I must loose control.

Control is something I like—an idol—

An idol I worship by holding.

Holding it creates the danger because it’s all I know…

Know nothing else… nothing more.

More is what mystery calls me to.

To let go;

Go beyond…

Beyond what I hold—what holds me.

Me, it’s the idol, the image I keep…

Keep so secure in secret crying.

Crying to be free…

Free to let go…

Go beyond the danger to the safe.

Safe comes when mystery is embraced.

Embrace, let go, enter the mystery.

Taking in the Whole

2008-01-11T13:42:00.000-08:00

I remember seeing a picture of one of Rembrandt’s painting in a magazine. I can’t remember which one it was. But the thing that struck me was the shear size of it. In the picture they had a person standing there in front of the painting so you could see the scale. It was enormous—bigger than life-sized.

As I thought about that, I thought the only real way to truly appreciate a masterpiece of that size is by standing back far enough to take in the whole painting. While there is value, no doubt, in getting up close and studying the brush stokes and how the paints are layered on, if you want to catch the full impact of what the artist was trying to capture, you need to take in the whole.

I’ve begun thinking of Scripture in that way. Reading and studying isolated texts has value. It is important and should not be neglected. We need to dig into the syntax and linguistics of the text. But at the same time we cannot neglect the discipline of standing back far enough to take in the whole—tracing the broad brush strokes of important Biblical themes from OT to NT… from Genesis to Revelation.

It seems to me that we’ve spent too much time with the pieces that we’ve neglected the whole. That’s something the Biblical writers never did. That’s something the early Christians never would have done. See the whole was what enabled them to understand the pieces. Our post-enlightenment mind set has turned that around: we seek to understand the whole by dissecting and studying the pieces.

The problem is, we’ve been standing so close to the painting for so long that we’ve forgotten what the painting is about. Maybe we need to remind ourselves to step back every once and a while and take in the whole.

The Good News of the Kingdom

2008-01-10T13:40:00.001-08:00

I just read through Matthew and came across a phrase that kind of struck out for me. Matthew 3.23 says, “Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news (or gospel) of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.” The phrase that struck me was “good news of the kingdom” or “gospel of the kingdom.”

Here’s what I thought. What is the gospel? For must of us evangelicals it is the “salvation plan.” It’s “Jesus dies on the cross for my sin.” But here Jesus says the good news of the kingdom. Here Jesus is proclaiming the gospel before the cross, before the atonement, before the resurrection. And I don’t think it’s his way of looking forward to it (although, there is something of that sense there).

What if our view of the good news is only part of the good news? What if we’re missing a piece—a big piece—of what Jesus came for… to bring? What if there’s more?

We’ve got the “saved from” part right. We are saved from sin. We are saved from being slaves to sin. We are saved from self-idolatry. We are saved from a myriad of evils and iniquities that pollute our humanness. But we miss the “saved for” part. We are saved for the kingdom. I think that’s what Jesus meant when he “proclaimed the good news of the kingdom.”

The Christ event is about the kingdom of God being brought into our world. It’s about heaven and earth being knitted together. It’s about God’s future coming into our present. It’s about God turning the tables of evil. It’s about God turning an upside-down world right-side up. That’s why the proclamation of the good news of the kingdom is followed by curing every disease and every sickness. Sickness and disease is what comes from an upside-down world.

We are saved from sin. But even more important and more to the point, we are saved for the kingdom. Our task is to implement the future Jesus inaugurated by his life, death and resurrection. The good news of the kingdom is that it is here, waiting for the followers of Jesus to implement.

Too Small

2008-01-09T11:55:00.000-08:00

I’ve always had a problem with preaching that seemed to focus on, “seven ways to… have a healthy marriage… raise the perfect child… financial freedom… (you fill in the blank).” Lately, I’ve started to see why. Even that old cliché that the Bible is our “owner’s manual for life,” is misleading. It misses something—it misses the gospel. It seems we’ve got a problem.

A quick survey of some of the books highlighted on the most resent Family Bookstore flier points out part of the problem. Just listen to some of the titles: Perfect Weight; Self Talk, Soul Talk; 8 Steps to Create the Life You Want; Destined to Reign: the Secret to Effortless Success, Wholeness and Victorious Living; Becoming a Better You; The Elephant in the Room: Sharing the Secrets for Pursuing Real Financial Success. Oh, and the list could go on. Even books on the Bible or on Spirituality seem to be focused on one of two things: how I can survive this world, or how I can turn this world to my advantage. Both are unbiblical.

I’m still working things out in my own mind and heart and life, but here’s what I think I think I’m starting to see… what I’m beginning to understand. First of all the Bible is not an owner’s manual. It’s more of a love letter. But even that, though closer, misses the mark. The point, though, is it’s not a book for us to use to pull out “secrets” in overcoming this world, or in trumping this world and getting a “one up” on everyone who doesn’t have these secrets—that, it seems to me, smacks of Gnosticism.

The other related thing is that no where in the Bible are we told that our ultimate goal is to escape this world. No where in Scripture are we told that we need to somehow hang on and survive this horrid and troubled world, and wait for the day that God will zap it all. The Bible is not a book of escapism; it’s a book of transformation.

We are not to hide from this world (in our churches and our ecclesiastical sub-cultures). We are not to compartmentalize our lives (Church over here, and the world over there—and we play by different rules depending on where we are). Again, we’re not simply to survive this world (hanging on till that day when our “souls are set free”).

We are supposed to engage this world in a way that brings the Kingdom of God. We are supposed to engage our world in a way that knits heaven and earth together—even if only in a small way. We are supposed to engage our world in a way that transforms, renews, and redeems creation.

We are called to be change agents, living by the laws, principles, and values of God’s coming kingdom. We are called in implement the new age of the Messiah that Jesus has inaugurated by his life, death, and resurrection. The problem is, it seems to me, we’ve settled for something far less… something far smaller than God’s grand and glorious plan of bringing his kingdom to this world, of his will being done on earth as it is in heaven. Our vision is too small.

Tipping God

2008-01-08T11:05:00.001-08:00

We were out for lunch yesterday at the Olive Garden (soup and salad special). And as usual when we were all finished the waitress brought us that little black folder with our bill. As I pulled out the money to pay for the bill, my mind almost automatically started figuring out the tip. This time, though, I paused for a moment.

You see, I’m old enough to remember when a phone call was a time and a postage stamp cost 7 cents and a tip was 10%. That’s not the case anymore, is it?

As I was pulling out my money, I told Deanna, “It’s funny isn’t it? No one tips just 10 % any more. It’s 20%... or at the very least 15 (if you’re really cheep). The only one who gets a 10% tip any more is God—and then only grudgingly (if at all).”

Wedding Photos

2007-12-28T11:09:00.000-08:00

Off to Kansas City

2007-12-12T12:55:00.000-08:00

Well, we'll be leaving in the morning for Kansas City. My oldest (Michael) is getting married. We're so excited. And a bit stressed. They asked if I'd so the wedding. Of course! How cool is that? I did my sister's wedding in September, and now I get to do my son's.

Anyway, I hope the weather holds up. They've been having some really bad ice down there.

Anti-intellectualism

2007-12-04T11:06:00.000-08:00

I don’t know if it’s just me, or if it’s just in some of the circles I move around in, but there seems to be a sort of growing anti-intellectualism within Evangelical Christianity. There’s this idea that people should only read “approved” books. Some groups have even banned (or at least strongly discourage) their members from reading certain Christian authors.

Now, I’ve got to admit it: that really bugs me… a lot. Actually, I'm pretty sick of it. Folks who think they have no need for theology don’t realize that they are only one small step away from bowing to the shine of pagan gods. Folks who think that faith means turning the brain off don’t realize that what they think if faith is hollow and lifeless—dead. Folks who think that anything that smacks of theology is merely the “wisdom of men” and can be tossed out with the evening trash are deluded and deceived—they do not have the truth, only their own personal illusion of truth.

Faith is not blind. Faith and reason are both gifts of God. They are two sides of the same coin. One without the other is not truth but a lie. Faith that is not thought out is not biblical faith. It is empty-headedness. Reason that has no basis in faith is not intelligence, but vanity. They must go together—one lifting the other, one under-gurding the other, one informing the other.

It was Martin Luther who said that “Literalists are lemmings.” To have faith without reason is to have no faith. It is to be a lemming. It is to follow someone or something to our destruction. Faith that rejects reason and theology and intellectualism rejects Christianity.

That’s not to say that only the intelligent can be Christian. That’s not to say that faith is only for those who are theologians or scholars. By no means! Paul tells us that God’s foolishness is wiser than any human wisdom. It is not human wisdom we seek. It is God’s. And God’s wisdom comes only through diligence and perseverance and persistence and hard work. It’s what discipleship is all about.

Anyway, I suppose I could say more, but I won’t (at least not now—maybe later.). Suffice it to say that I believe it’s time (past time) for Christians to start taking their faith seriously enough to use their brains, to wrestle with the tough issues of their faith. It’s time to be transformed by the renewing of the mind.

The Road Ahead

2007-12-02T06:09:00.000-08:00

I ran across this quote from a guy named Jean Pierre Camus worth thinking about. He says, "He who believes himself to be far advanced in the spiritual life has not even made a good beginning."

We all know people like that. But I don't think that's the point of the quote. The point is we need to examine our own spiritual attitudes. I've come to believe that there really is no such thing a "Christian maturity"... only maturing Christians.

When I look at the road ahead, looking back at how far I've come doesn't seem like such a great a distance after all. When we think of ourselves as "far advanced" it's because we compare our selves to ourselves (or worse, others) rather than the goal--which is Christ.

Forgotten Discipline

2007-11-13T11:54:00.000-08:00

In the introduction to his book, Hunger for God, John Piper says:

“The greatest enemy of hunger for God is not poison but apple pie. It is not the banquet of the wicked that dulls our appetite for heaven, but endless nibbling at the table of the world. It is not the X-rated video, but the prime-time dribble of triviality we drink in every night. For all the ill that Satan can do, when God describes what keeps us from the banquet table of his love, it is a piece of land, a yoke of oxen, and a wife (Luke 14.18-20). The greatest adversary of love to God is not his enemies but his gifts. And the most deadly appetites are not for the poison of evil, but for the simple pleasures of earth. For when these replace an appetite for God himself, the idolatry is scarcely recognizable and almost incurable.”

Maybe you should pause here and read that again.

Lately, I’ve been reminded of a forgotten discipline in the Christian walk—the discipline of fasting. I wonder if we were to poll all those who sit in the pews Sunday after Sunday, I wonder how many would say they fast regularly. I wonder how many would say they have fasted for extended periods of time, setting aside the “simple pleasures of earth” for a period of time to hunger more after God.

I am shocked (but not surprised) when I hear long time Christians who say they have never practiced the discipline of regular fasting. Many have never fasted. It seems we have too much apple pie on our tables. It seems we nibble too much.

Fasting, like prayer, is not a way to manipulate God. Fasting, like prayer, is not something added to our life—it needs to be a lifestyle. We fast because Jesus said we will. We fast because what we really hunger and thirst for is righteousness—not Papa Murphy’s. We fast because there is nothing—absolutely nothing—that this world can offer that can take the place of God himself—not even God’s gifts. We fast because it reminds us that a banquet awaits in heaven. We fast because right now, we live in a world filled with injustice and oppression and God calls us to fast in order to break those chains. We fast because nothing can satisfy the hunger in our souls but God. We fast because we have become overstuffed—full of ourselves and the pleasures of earth.

Perhaps it’s time to rediscover the forgotten discipline of fasting. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they will be filled.”

School and The Bible

2007-11-10T12:28:00.000-08:00

I know… it’s rather pathetic. It has been so long since I’ve bothered writing anything. It’s not that nothing’s been going on; it’s that too much has been going on.

School’s been occupying most of my spare time. I’m working toward another Masters degree, but mostly I just love being in school. It gives me a place to question, to think outside the box without having to worry about people thinking I’m a heretic (or worse… a liberal).

Anyway, I’m right now in the midst of a class on Biblical Theology. It’s been an incredible journey—too much to take in, but enough to whet my appetite to make it a life long pursuit. Of course, that may sound funny coming from a pastor of 11 years. What have I been doing every Sunday if not preaching from the Bible? And I have, backed by hours of study and preparation. But BT takes Bibles study to a deeper level than mere exegesis. It also helps to expose many of the popular myths that have crept into the pews (and pulpits).

You see it’s sad when our theology is formed by the Left Behind series more than actual Biblical facts. It’s tragic when you walk into a Christian book store and you’re inundated by books on how to grasp the American dream and make it yours—all in the name of Christ of course—but when you go looking for serious books on in depth Bibles studies they seem to be missing from the shelves. It’s sad when we’ve allowed proof-texting to become a substituted for the plenary study of Scripture.

Anyway, enough about what’s sad. What’s exciting is that there does seem to be a renewed interest in Biblical literacy. Even though it may be small and inceptional at the moment, it holds great promise.

Vegas

2007-09-28T14:41:00.000-07:00

Here we are... Las Vegas.

My sister is getting married and asked if I'd do the wedding. It's my first Vegas wedding. And no, I'm not going to wear an Elvis outfit (thank you... thank you very much).

Anyway, it's interesting here. Yes, it's Sin City. Sex everywhere. It right there, in your face. But you know the thing that bugs me the most is not that (as bad as it is), but it's the waist. It's the selfish, all about me, over the top, make me sick opulence.

I mean, here we are in a world where people die every day because they don't have food, water, the bear necessities of life. I mean a simple think like diarria (sp?) kills so many! And here I am in the middle of this hole in the universe that is sucking up so much of the world's resources in this vortex of narcissism and selfishness. It is truly repulsive.

It's like we've stepped into this emptiness where nothing is. That advertisement that says, "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" is true because it's almost as if this is a non-place. The rules of fairness, social justice, have no place here. There in only one thing--ME.

Anyway, what I am I going to do with this experience? How am I going to let this form me? How am I going to let it form and shape my kids?

I'm not sure yet. But one thing it has re-stirred in my heart is a greater desire to impact my world for justice. It seems to me that somewhere along the Christian road we've kicked out this idea of justice and replaces it with the notion of judgment. God help us. Somewhere along the way we've strayed from the truth that God wants to redeem the world, not condemn it, not destroy it; and definitely not insulate us from its pains and injustices. Yet that's just what we've done in so many of our churches. We've built myopic monasteries that cater to my needs, my well being, my spiritual satisfaction. Really, when I think about it, it's not a whole lot different than Vegas. God help us.

Hearing from God

2007-09-13T16:52:00.000-07:00

Have you ever heard from God? Oh, not in an audible way. But in a way that you know that this idea that just popped up in your thought wasn't from your own mind or imagination--it was divine.

Have you ever had that happen to you?

Yea, me too... just this morning as a matter of fact. But this time it was a kind of time-delayed voice. It was like God sneaking up behind me and whispers, "Remember what you heard way back in February? That was for you."

Back in February I was at a conference and one of the speakers said he was sitting in his office and it was as if God said to him, "You need to be more afraid of me than you are of your people." It thought that was pretty cool--it had nothing to do with his presentation, but it was pretty cool, so I wrote it down.

Well, today God reminded me of that, It was as if God came up beside me and said, "John, you need to be more afraid of me than you are of your people." It wasn't audible, but it was clear enough. It was unmistakably God.

I had to confess. I had to repent. I had to ask for God's forgiveness.

I also had to ask for God's help.

I am so tied to people's approvals. I want to be liked. I want people to like what I say and always speak well of me. But not at the cost of God's disapproval. And that's been the problem, I think. I've been more afraid of what others think about me, and less concerned with what God thinks about me. I don't want to rock the boat, even though God is saying, "It's time to jump ship. It's time to get out of the boat."

I'm sure it's going to take some courage... I'm sure it's going to take some faith... I'm sure it's going to take a lot of praying... and I'm sure I'll stumble on the way.... but I'm done with being afraid of people and what they think.

God called me, not people. God has commissioned me, not people. God has ordained me, not people. I am God's, not theirs. And I seek God's approval above all else.

Distractions

2007-09-10T16:57:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about distractions lately. Maybe it's because I've been fighting through so many of them lately. But it seems to me that Satan loves distractions. It keeps us from focusing on Kingdom work.

Lately there has been a lot of distractions. Satan has been extra busy. The Devil has been hard at work in people's lives. He uses people that way. And he does so all in the name of truth. But it's not truth, it's a lie. After all, he is the father of lies.

But he sucks people in. They don't even know it--until it's too late. And sometimes I wonder if even then. Some folks live a delusion that has tainted the whole world to them. Not only are they distracted, but they have become the distraction. Satan wins.

But, of course, in the end Satan never wins--God does.

It's funny how these distractions seem to mean less and less over time. They become little more than a bee sting that hurts at first, maybe even swells up and festers; but eventually it fades away and is forgotten.

I guess when I think about it, these distractions amount to little more than the desperate roar of a lion who has lost his teeth. It makes a lot of noise, scares a lot of people, but is relay pretty powerless. The sad thing is how many folks want to take up the lion's roar. The sad thing is... how many people run and never look to see how toothless and powerless these roars really are.

I suppose what I'm saying is: I'm tired of being distracted by the pride (think double meaning here) of toothless, powerless, lions roaring away in the Devil's den. Let them roar. I am no longer listening. Like Nehemiah up on the wall, I'm too busy doing what God has called me to do to be distracted anymore. I will not come down, there's more important things to do.

Like sharing the good news of God's love and grace.

Like being Christ to others.

Like bringing the Kingdom of God to my little corner of the world.

Tired

2007-09-07T14:49:00.000-07:00

I'm tired.

Not sleepy tired, but tired of taking two steps forward only to be knocked backwards 10.

Tired of struggling to be true to God, only to be called a heretic.

Tired of fighting. Tired of arguing.

Tired of trying of embracing people only to find a knife deep in my back.

Tired of being hurt. Tired of the pain.

Is it worth it anymore? Does anyone care? Should I even care if anyone cares?

Does God care?

Sometimes I feel like Job surrounded by his wonderful friends. Sometimes... but most of the time I just feel alone.

I'm just tired, and I tend to get apathetic when I'm tired.

Cool! An eagle just flew by--spiraling over the trees in front of the church. "They will sore on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."

I'm still tired. I'm still weary. I still feel faint. But maybe ... maybe it's okay.

Masks

2007-08-29T14:43:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about this "showing up" thing some more... about this whole idea of being fully present. What does that look like? How do we become fully present? Jeremy got me thinking down these lines with his comment.

Being fully present is a big thing... an important thing. And since it is so big and important maybe I should think about it more. Maybe I should try and figure out what it looks like. How do we become fully present?

Well, the first thing that seemed to come to mind about being fully present is about taking off the masks. After all, how can we be present anywhere if we are hiding behind something?

I guess it's about being real. And being real is a scary thing. We become vulnerable. We become raw. It's risky. That's why it's so much easier to keep the mask on.

I think church people are good at wearing masks. Church is a good place to come for masks.

Which is really messed up, because church should be the one place where you can go to and feel safe about taking off the mask and being real. Church should be a place where real people come and share their real struggles and their real victories... without feeling threatened, judged, or looked down on. Church, of all places, should be a mask free zone.

Anyway, back to being present. It just seems to me that taking off our mask is the first step in being fully present.

Showing Up

2007-08-28T14:01:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure that most of us who follow Jesus, who call ourselves Christian, believe that God is everywhere... that God is present in all places at all times. I'm pretty sure we all understand that there is nowhere we can go to where God isn't already there waiting for us.

So, if we think that, if we really believe that, then why do we pray for God to show up? Why is it that sometimes--after a church service or a prayer meeting or a bible study--we say that "God showed up," and other times it seems like God's presence was nowhere to be seen--or more to the point: felt?

We rely pretty heavy on our feelings. Or at least it seems like we do when it come to spiritual issues. I wonder if sometimes we've made those feelings out to be idols. We start to chase after the feelings--the warm fuzzy God-feelings--instead of chasing after God. We begin to hunger and thirst for the experience rather than the one who gives the experience.

Anyway, I think sometimes when we say, "God showed up," what we really mean is that the feelings we experienced met with our expected understanding of what God showing up should feel like. Really, it has little to do with God showing up or not. After all, if God is everywhere at all times, God always shows up.

So... that makes me think. Maybe the problems has nothing to do with God showing up. Maybe what it really has to do with is whether or not we show up--I mean really show up, not just occupy space.

Showing up is hard. It requires sacrifice. To show up means we need to leave something behind. To show up means we need to set aside personal agendas, personal expectations, personal distractions. To show up means we need to be fully present.

Maybe that's one reason we miss God--not because God hasn't shown up, but because we have never become fully present to the God who is already here. Maybe we were looking for something different--a different feeling, a different expression of worship, a different... well to be blunt, a different idol.

Being fully present is about making a sacrifice. It's about sacrificing all those idols we tend to fashion out of the fragments of the world in which we live. It's about sacrificing our expectations in order to experience the God who is already present. It's about really showing up.

What would happen this Sunday if we all decided to show up? What would happen if every Sunday we came to worship with the attitude of being fully present for whatever God does in our midst? What would happen if we learned how to be fully present to a God who is always present for us?

I have a funny feeling we'd be saying, "Boy, God really showed up today."

Prayer by Grace

2007-08-22T15:55:00.001-07:00

I'm reading Henri Nouwen's book Reaching Out. In one section he talks about prayer as a gift.

I like that.

It's easy to think of prayer as a discipline--something we do to make something happen. It's easy to think of prayer as part of our daily "to do" list--"read your bible and pray every day and grow, grow, grow." But when we reduce prayer to just that--a thing we do--prayer tends to become a very heavy burden. It becomes very difficult to sustain.

Maybe that's why, for most of us anyway, a consistent prayer life is difficult. It has become a duty... a chore. Even if it is something we love to do... even if it is something we desire with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength... when it is only a discipline we do, it become dry and sterile and ineffective.

But if we were to include the notion that prayer is a gift--it is "God's breathing in us, by which we become part of the intimacy of God's inner life" (Nouwen), all of a sudden prayer become liberating... life-giving... prayer becomes not only a means of grace, but grace itself.

We like to talk in terms of being saved by grace, not by works. Well, why not pray by grace, not by works? Prayer by grace would be prayer that is our response to God, not something we initiate. Prayer by grace would be we are entering in on what God is already about (and doing). Prayer by grace would be answering God, not simply telling God. Prayer by grace would be about surrender.

Labeling

2007-08-18T11:22:00.000-07:00

Okay... guilty. I've done it. I admit it. I've bought one product over another simply because of the label. Whether it's because of a brand name identity, or because I just like the advertising better, I've done it.

But then again, who hasn't. After all, there's a sense in which we tend to identify ourselves by the brand we buy. Call it "Label Identity," or "Label Image." That's why we avoid certain generic products. They don't carry the same image.

Generic has a kind of bad name. Somehow, because the packaging is less flashy... because it lacks the advertising fire power... it's lower quality... it's inferior.

I remember when "generic" first came out. It was in the grocery store--plain white labels with plain black letters. Basic stuff.

Not so much anymore. Even generic has gone through an image over-haul. Even generic has falling prey to the labeling craze. Black and white doesn't sell.

Except for some. For some, black and white isn't about the color of the paper and the ink; it's about their opinion. It's about their understanding of what is and what isn't. It's about how they label their world. And the way they label their world is all about creating insiders and outsiders.

That's another thing about labeling--it build walls and causes division. You got the PC users over there and the Mac users over here. You got the Dodge guy and the Ford girl. Jews and gentiles. Democrats, Republicans. Liberals, Conservatives. Orthodox and...

Anyway, you get it. Labels have a way of causing problems. They can lead to division. They can make things artificially black and white.

Now, labels are good--when they are doing what they are supposed to. They identify what's on the inside of the packaging. But in our consumer driven, marketing powered, advertising rich culture, the label has become an end in itself. They have come to represent product superiority--brand arrogance.

Those of us who have labeled ourselves as followers of Jesus need to get beyond the micro-labeling that tends to cause division... that tends to create brand superiority... that tends to be exclusive and arrogant.

Maybe that's why the very first followers of Jesus were known simply as The Way. Simple, inclusive, basic label. Nothing flashy. Nothing fancy. Just The Way. It identified who they were and what they were about--following in the Way of Jesus. And isn't that what the Kingdom of God is supposed to be all about--following Jesus who is the way, the truth and the life.

Using God

2007-08-16T10:53:00.000-07:00

You know, one of the things that really frustrates me is the miss-use of God to justify our actions and attitudes... the way God is used to validate personal opinions and fight individual battles. Oh, I'm not talking about Jihads or the Crusades or the Inquisition or anything as dramatic as that. I'm talking about the more subtle ways God is used and miss-used.

Sometimes I think those subtle ways are perhaps even more detestable to God. There's something about them that smacks of arrogance... of setting ourselves up as God's lone spokesperson... of making our opinion the one supreme authority all others must bow down to. There's something about it that just irks me... makes my skin crawl and my stomach turn.

Here's what I don't get. You've got one person--devote, sincere, passionate about following Jesus. And then you've got another person--just as devote, just as sincere, just as passionate. Both pray, both read the Bible, both go to church. Yet one of them seems to think that, somehow, they have the inside track on God. Somehow they think their opinion, their interpretation, their understanding, is "right" and everyone else who doesn't agree is wrong--or ever worse: is a heretic.

They justify themselves by saying, "I've prayed about this and God showed me."

No doubt they have (prayed that is).

But what if the other person has prayed also? What if the other person was equally assured by God? Does that mean God can't make up his mind? Or does it mean that perhaps the answer wasn't so clear? Or maybe one or both wasn't really listening. Maybe one or both went into prayer already set in what they expected to hear.

Here's what I'm wondering. How many times do we use God to express our own personal bias? How many times to we use God as a sort of all-powerful trump card--"Well God told me, so you must be wrong"? How many times do we use and miss-use God?

The answer, I'm afraid, is far too many. As a matter of fact, I would imagine it is one of the main fracture points within the church today. Oh, it's not that difference of opinion is wrong or bad. They are healthy and necessary. It is the tension that keeps us digging. It is the tension that keeps us wresting with Truth.

The problem is when we justify our opinion--when we try to validate ourselves--with "Thus saith the Lord." I think we need to be far more careful with how we do that. I think we need to be way more cautious in how and when we say "God told me."

After all, God is not a private God. God communicates most often, and most effectively, through community... a community that has spanned the centuries. There is a mighty stream of over 2,000 years Christian tradition that must temper any sort of private "God told me" interpretation. We have 2,000 years of Christian heritage we must listen to and connect with in order to keep us balanced.

Certainly God speaks. But more often then not God speaks in and through the greater body called the Church before he ever speaks through any individual. I just think we need to be way more careful than we are about how we use God's name. I just think we need to think twice, before we say "God told me." And I defiantly think we need to be extremely cautious in expressing our opinions as "Thus saith the Lord."

Forgiveness

2007-08-14T12:54:00.000-07:00

I've avoided writing this for a while now. I'm not sure if it's because I wasn't ready, or if it's because I hadn't felt safe enough.

Still don't know if I'm ready. Still don't know if I'm safe enough. But I need to write this anyway. I need to get this out there for my own soul.

After all that's what forgiveness is about... that's what forgiveness seems to affect the most--our own soul. We forgive in order to be free. We forgive in order to grow. We forgive in order to be cleansed.

I need to be free. I need to grow. I need to be cleansed.

Sometimes hurts go very deep. Sometimes hurts go so deep they actually bring about a death. Sometimes that death can fester into something vile and unclean. I don't want that to happen to me. That's why I need to write this. That's why I need to forgive.

...forgive the hurt.

...forgive the wrong.

...forgie the death.

I'm not sure if I'm ready because I still hurt. I'm not sure if I'm safe enough because I still feel the pain of being wronged. I'm not sure if I can becasue there is still a part of me that feels like it's been murdered.

Rob Bell talks about forgiveness as walking away. He says it's about making the choice not to carry the guilt of an offence any longer. He says it's about setting it down and then walking away from it.

I want to walk away. I want to move on. I want to be cleansed.

As I thought about that whole idea of walking away it struck me that the further you walk away from something the smaller it becomes. That gives me hope. It gives me the hope that even though it still hurts, the hurt will become smaller the more I walk. It gives me hope that even though the wrong is still raw and exposed, it will become smaller and healed over time as I continue to walk after Jesus.

I think that's the key. It's not just walking away in any old direction. It's walking away in the way of Jesus. It's walking in the Jesus way. And the Jesus way is the way of life--abundant life.

So I suppose what I'm doing in writing this is I'm setting the hurt down. I'm letting go of the wrong, releasing the pain, forgiving the offence. I am turning away from it. And I am walking after Jesus.

To Be Formed By God

2007-08-11T11:15:00.001-07:00

To be formed by God means waiting:
waiting for the right moment
waiting for the right condition
waiting for the right opportunity.
It means waiting until I am ready
to sit on the Potter’s wheel.

To be formed by God means darkness:
it means sitting in the dark clay-bin
feeling very alone and forgotten.
It means enduring the darkness
being cured by time
prepared by patience
readied by resting in the darkness.

To be formed by God means
learning to yield –
my will, my desire, my life—
first to the darkness
then to the hands of the Potter.
It means stillness:
stillness in the darkness
stillness on the wheel
stillness under the pressure
of the Potter’s persistent hand.

To be formed by God
is to allow God’s fingers to press
deep into my most unyielding center
to squeeze out all the air bubbles
that can cause fractures and cracks
when I face the fire.
It means allowing God the freedom
to crush me when I need to be crushed
to scrape me up when I get off center
to press me into whatever shape pleases the Potter.

To be formed by God means
learning to trust the Potter
trust in his love
trust in his wisdom
trust in his will
trusting that no matter how hard it may seem
or how painful and difficult it may be
the Potter is the only one who knows me
and can shape me into a vessel
for his use
for his glory
for his purpose.

2007-08-10T13:10:00.000-07:00

Perspective

2007-08-09T11:34:00.000-07:00

Why is it that some folks seem to look at everything and always try to see what's wrong? While at the same time there are others who are always looking for God in everything?

It's kind of sad when you think about it. I mean, if all you can see is what's wrong, that's probably all you'll ever see. And if all you can see is what's wrong, let's face it... life would pretty much suck.

Maybe that's why there's so many depressed people walking around.

The other thing is usually it's not a matter of seeing what's wrong; usually it's a matter of pointing out what I don't agree with. And of course, what I don't agree with is what's wrong. If it doesn't fit with my way of thinking it's always wrong. You know... round earth fitting in a flat-earth world view... the sun being the center of the universe... cotton candy not being made out of cotton.

I don't know, I just think it would be a miserable life to always be on your guard like that... always ready to put up your fist and throw a punch... always looking for what's wrong. I don't think that's how God wants anyone to live. Least of all those who claim to be following Jesus.

It just seems to me that it would be much healthier to go through life looking for God in everything. After all, as Christians, we do believe that don't we--that God is everywhere? And if God is everywhere, we should be able to recognize God everywhere...

...in everything.

...at work in everybody.

I wonder what would happen if as followers of Jesus we--instead of always pointing out what's wrong with our world.. our culture... people--what would happen if we started looking for God in all those things? And then, what would happen if we started helping others see what we see?

See God.

Maybe ... just maybe... if we started looking for God more... seeing God more... helping others see God more... maybe, just maybe we'd be doing what Jesus was talking about when he prayed "your kingdom come, you will be done."

Maybe it has to do with perspective.

Maybe it has to do with recognition.

Maybe it has less to do with what's wrong, and more to do with what's God.

Truth

2007-08-08T11:56:00.000-07:00

Truth seems to be a hot topic lately. You could even say there are wars being fought over truth.

I just have to wonder, though, if truth is truth--if truth is absolute and unchangeable--does it really need us to wage a war over it?

What I mean is... it just seems to me that the real point about truth is not that it needs to be defended (as if somehow a lie might make the truth less true). The real point about truth is it must be lived out.

You see when truth is only a point--an idea, a concept, a proposition--to be defended, debated, and dissected... it's dead.

And truth is not dead.

Truth that is lived out is alive. It engages people. It engages culture. And it transforms.

That's because truth is bigger than our idea of truth. Truth is bigger than anything we can say about truth. Truth is bigger than any list we can make. As a matter of fact, truth has no bounds. It cannot be contained. Truth is infinite, because God is infinite. How do you defend that? How do you debate that?

All you can do is encounter it... experience it... let it change you.

I don't know. I just wonder when we'll learn how to get out of the way and let God be God, let truth be truth, and simply humble ourselves before the God who is all truth and let the infinite invade and infect the finite, transforming it into something amazing.

Somehow I think that's what the Kingdom of God is all about.

2007-08-07T12:24:00.000-07:00

Why is it so hard to keep disciplined?

Obviously if I haven't written anything since February, there's a problem.

It's not that I haven't had anything going on. It's just that I have not been disciplines enough to pause long enough to write.

Maybe that's the really problem--pausing. I'm always in such a rush. I find very little time to pause... very little time to linger.

It's like I've always got something important I've got to rush to. It's like the next moment is somehow more important, more urgent than this moment.

Maybe that's why I miss so many moments.

Why am I so undisciplined? Maybe it's because I haven't learned to linger. I haven't learned to pause. I haven't learned to rest.

2007-02-01T16:19:00.000-08:00

Road to Recovery

Patience, why is it such a hard thing to learn? Maybe it has something to do with our instant society. We don't like waiting for things--especially not things we feel strongly about.

Patience has been a tough lesson for me. I'm still learning it. I have a funny feeling I'll be learning it for a long, long time. That's kind of funny when you think about it--impatient about learning patience. But it's true--I don't like waiting for things.

Take running. That long, slow build up... forget it... it takes too long. I feel good. Why not keep upping miles? Well, I found out--bad knee. Now I'm forced to learn patience while I let things heal.

I took a whole week off--last week. Now this week I'm starting back... nice and slow. The problem is, the knee feels pretty good (no pain anyway). Why not just jump right back in? Why not up the miles... I feel good?

Patience.

Oh, what a hard lesson to learn! What a difficult character quality to develop. There's just something compulsive in my personality that makes me want to dive in... go overboard with things... become impatient when I have to wait... when things don't happen instantly.

But the truth is things do take time. I know that. I just keep forgetting (ignoring) it. I've lost 65 pound--in a year, not overnight. My fitness level has improved--in a year, not overnight. My relationship with my wife is richer, deeper, more meaninfull; but it's taken 23 years of marriage to get this far. The exciting thing is, what will if be like in another 23 years?

Patience.

Running takes patience. The body takes time to adapt and adjust. Muscles need to develop... ligaments need to become stronger, more resilient... bones need to strengthen... injuries need time to heal... it all takes time, and can't be rushed.

Patience.

Relationships take patience. They need time to build trust... break down facades and remove masks. They need time to develop a kind of transparency that can only come from years and years of being together... sharing life's ups and downs... being there for each other in sickness and in health. It can't be rushed.

Patience.

Maybe that's why Paul lists patience as one of the "Fruits of the Spirit." It grows over time. It multiplies itself over and over again in our lives. It reproduces itself in the life of others. Patience may not be easy, but it does tend to be contagious. After all, God has been incredibly patient with me. And hopefully some of that patience is wearing off in my life.

2007-01-23T13:52:00.000-08:00

A Little Frustrated

A little frustrated. I've tried to push through. I've tried to ignore it. I've tried... but it hasn't gone away. Funny how that works. Well, not really funny, but pretty predictable.

Here's what happened. A couple of weeks ago I went out for a 9 miles tempo run. Felt pretty good, but sometime during the last mile my lower right leg felt real tight--along the inside front of the calf. Soon after that--after the run was over, and everything--my right knee felt funny. It hasn't gone away.

The frustrating part is, now I'm having to take this week off from running. And hopefully that will be enough. Oh, I'm doing all the regular stuff--ice, stretching, and all that. Hopefully that'll be enough for it to heal.

It's taken me four weeks to get to this point. Like I said, I tried to ignore it... push through... hope it went away. It didn't, so now I've got to deal with it.

I've noticed I have a tendency to do that with a lot of stuff. Maybe it's not just me. Maybe it's a part of human nature (at least it makes me feel better to think so). The sad thing is when I start to do that with my spiritual life.

It's kind of like God puts this abrasion--this pain--in my life to point out some flaw, or some character quality that God wants to work on. I try to ignore it... push through... hope it goes away so I can get back to life as usual. But God doesn't want "life as usual." God wants Christ-likeness--and that's far from usual.

I wonder what would happen if we were to pay closer attention to all those little "pains" in life that come our way? What would happen if instead of avoiding them--going the other way or ignoring them--what would happen if we took the time to really examine them... see if we can get to the root of the pain.

You see I'm starting to figure that out with my running. The pain in my knee is not from my knee. It has to do with tightness in my calf and/or my hamstring. Even if I could get rid of the pain, if I don't take care of the root problem (the tightness) the pain will come right back.

Perhaps some of the same sort of examination is needed in my spiritual life when the pains come along. Maybe I need to look past the pain to find the root. And maybe it's there that God waits to do a deeper work in my heart.

2007-01-16T16:11:00.000-08:00

It seems like I've run in all kinds of weather this winter--rain (lots, and lots of rain), snow, cold, and ice. That's one thing about running is when you're out there, you're out there in the middle of what ever the weather throws at you.

Sometimes it gets pretty old. Last week I just said, "bag it" and went down to the gym for a work out. I kind of felt guilty afterwards. Kind of like I cheated. I think maybe that's another quirky thing about running--part of the experience of running is about being in the weather... good or bad. There's no way to escape it. And there's a part of me that doesn't want to escape it.

Oh, certainly sometimes it sucks. Sometimes I think it would be better to be inside, on a treadmill or a bike or something. But then again, when it's over... when I look back... I think if I had gone inside I would have missed something. Even those times when I grumble because my feet are soaked and may fingers are cold, there's something special about being outside... running.

I think a lot of life is like that. I'm certain a lot of religion is like that--hiding instead of engaging. But really, if anything, religion should not be an escape from the world. It should be a means to engage the world around us more fully. To often, though, I think it's more like going to the gym for a more comfortable workout instead of heading off into the rain for a run.

Kind of sad, but I have a funny feeling that we're missing a lot by doing that. Maybe I need to head out for more runs even when there is snow on the ground. Maybe I need to figure a way to make my religion more of a way to engage the world I live in than a means to escape it.

2006-10-27T12:55:00.000-07:00

When Did I Become a Runner?

When did I become a runner? When was the shift made? When did I move from simply running... from being someone who runs... to being a runner?

I thought about this today as I ran through the woods... a light mist washing over my face... the soft earth yielding softly under each stride... the smell of clean air and rich soil filling my senses. When did I become a runner? And for that matter, what is it that makes a person a runner?

It's funny. When I started running back some 6 or 7 months ago I never intended on becoming a runner. I just needed to loose weight. I had been going to the gym three times a week for about a month and decided to add a little running into the mix. Actually, it started off as walking. I couldn't run--too fat and out of shape. But soon I worked up to running a little--a minute or two--then a little more, and then a little more. I'm up to about 18 miles a week now, and slowly building as I prepare for a half-marathon in April. So when did I make the switch? When did I become a runner.

Was it when I did my first race? Is that when I became a runner? Or is it when my per mile pace finally dropped into the 8 minute range? I've heard people say that you're really not a runner until you are running in the 8 minute per mile range. Up until then you're just a jogger (or maybe just some one who goes out for a jog).

But you know, that doesn't work for me. I think there's something more. Being a runner is more than about performance and times. It's about more than pace. Being a runner is about more than races and training strategies. And the more I think about it, the more I think it has something to do with identity. The more I think about it, the more I think it has something to do with that word "being."

Identity is powerful. We tend to become what we identify with. That's when I think I became a runner--when I began calling myself as a runner... when I started to think of myself as a runner... when I identified myself as a runner, that's when I became a runner.

It wasn't an overnight thing. It didn't happen all of a sudden. It was a process. As I ran more and more, that running started to change me. I did loose weight--a lot of weight. But it also started to change me in ways I hadn't counted on. Moods, outlook, emotions, these all were changed as I ran. I found I could deal with things better. My mind was clearer, more focused. I had more energy. All these things (and more) changed as I ran. And soon I discovered that I was a runner.

Paul says in one of his letters to one of the early churches, "I identified myself completely with him [Christ]. Indeed, I have been crucified with Christ. My ego is no longer central. It is no longer important that I appear righteous before you or have your good opinion, and I am no longer driven to impress God. Christ lives in me. The life you see me living is not 'mine,' but it is lived by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I am not going back on that" (Galatians 2.20-21, The Message).

2006-10-17T15:38:00.000-07:00

Well, we're back from Victoria. It was a great trip. The run went well. We had a nice time together. And, actually, my goal was met. I'll write more about goals, dreams, and ambitions in another entry some time. Here are some picture we took while we were up there.

Here we are in the Empress Hotel. Actually it's just leaving the hotel to make our way over to the convention center to check out the Expo and pick up my race number.

This is the parliament building all lit up at night. We're looking across the harbor.

Here's the end of the race. That's me in the red shirt. Lookin' good... actually I was fried.

2006-10-05T15:33:00.000-07:00

Well, tomorrow we'll be heading up to Victoria BC. It's our anniversary (22 years). It's also time for that 8k--the one I've been training for (I know, 8k doesn't sound like a big deal, but I haven't been running all that long).

Anyway, this morning as I went out for my last easy run, I was thinking about how it all comes down to the race. All the preparation, all the training it's all over; now it's time to run the race. There are a lot of thoughts and feelings that go along with that: Did I do enough? How will I do? What if I don't meet my expectations or goals? And I'm sure there are others I can't think of right now. But the point is, now it's time to perform.

You know, sometimes I think preparation is easier--training is easier--it certainly is safer. When you train you don't have to worry about the results so much. A ten minute mile or a seven minute mile, it doesn't really matter. But in a race... well, now that's a different story. The race is a measure of your performance. It's a test of how well the training went. And there's no hiding when race day comes.

And really, that's a good thing. It gives some accountability. I need accountability--we all do. With the race always dangling out there as the goal, I can get up and head out for a run when it's raining. With the race staring me in the face, I can push through that last lap of a tempo run. Goals do that for us. They build accountability.

Maybe that's why all too often spiritual growth is stunted--we have no accountability. Now I'm not necessarily talking about having someone checking up with us on our prayer life. I'm thinking more in terms of the accountability that goals create. I don't know if we do that enough with our spiritual life.

It's kind of like all our prayer, Bible reading, church going is all about the training. We just keep doing it. And it's great. We certainly gain from it. We certainly grow from it. But it lacks the focused growth that a goal can produce. When I train for a race, I am focused. Everything I do is about my performance in that race. The type of runs I do, the foods I eat (and don't eat), everything prepares me for that particular race.

What would happen to our spiritual growth if we were to do that same sort of thing? I mean, what if we were to sit down with a pastor, a mentor, a spouse, and say, "Here are my spiritual goals for this year"? For one thing, I think it would make us take a much closer look at where we are in our relationship with God, and where we need to be. The other thing I think it would do is give us a more focused application and use of the spiritual disciplines.

You see, right now I think we go about things a bit backwards. We do "this," "this," and "this," and expect "that" to happen. But that would be like saying I'm going to run 3 miles on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and 6 weeks I expect to be able to run a marathon. It's not going to happen. What I need to do is to determine that I want "This" to happen in my life, so I need to do "this, "that," and "that" in order to make it happen. Working from the goal to the disciplines make much more sense than doing it the other way around.

Anyway, I'll have to wait and see if I did enough to be ready for the race. Meanwhile though, I think I need to start working on developing some spiritual goals to fuel and focus my spiritual training.

2006-09-29T15:39:00.000-07:00

Runners are a funny breed. Or at least some of us are. There's something in us that keeps us pushing... plodding along when we'd rather be at home... lifting the pace when we'd rather just throw in the towel... reaching deep within ourselves when we'd much rather forget about the whole thing and eat a pizza or something. And sometimes that's a good thing. Sometimes running is just plain old work. Sometimes you need to just push through those difficult runs.

But sometimes... sometimes it's not such a good thing. Sometimes instead of pushing, we need to simply rest.

I've read a lot lately about rest. Fitness, it seems, doesn't happen so much in the run as it does in the rest and the recovery. Running stresses. Running breaks things down. Running pushes our muscles, stresses our system... maxes our bodies to the point of breaking. Rest allows our bodies to repair the damage. And even more: repair the damage in such a way that we are ready for even more than before. Our bodies adapt through the recovery phase. Sometimes we need to just rest.

I find myself doing the same thing spiritually. I strive and I struggle, and I make great gains. I feel good about myself--my relationship with God. But then there comes a dry time. Those gains aren't so great. Sometimes it seems as if I'm going backwards--loosing ground. So what do I do? Try harder. Keep pushing. Fight through it. And sometimes that's what I need to do. But other times... other times I just need to rest.

Sometimes I think those dry times come to remind me that it's not my striving that matters. It's not the "great gains" I make spiritually that count. What matters... what counts is am I resting in God?

Jesus says, "Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me--watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace" (Matthew 11.28-29, The Message).

Sometimes I need to quit forcing and simply rest.

2006-09-26T15:10:00.000-07:00

Running has become something of a prayer for me. I know I'm not alone. Others have made that spiritual connection between running and God before me. But it's new for me. Running is new for me. Or at least new again. Twenty years ago-in what seems like another life-I ran. But it's different now. I'm older. I'm slower. But I'm also more thoughtful.

As I run, my mind seems to chase down trails of thought. Often without direction. Sometimes on carefully guided paths. But always with a free reign. Sometimes there's one thought. Other times there are many. Sometimes, near the end of the run, they become connected-almost like it's taken all this time to disconnect myself (my prejudices and preconceived notions) in order to see just how they fit together.

What I'd like to do is record (maybe even remember) some of these thoughts... Some of these connections. Like many of the thoughts on my runs, I'm not sure where this will take me. But destinations aren't nearly as important as the journey. I suppose I'm really not after "getting somewhere" as much as I am about opening up to the journey and the discovery that waits along the way.

I've picked the name "On the Run" for my first Blog because that's what it's about-those thoughts that meet me on the trail as I run... those prayers that become for me bread and life... those spiritual encounters I have... on the run.