Merry Christmas!
I'm sitting here at my laptop while listening to the new ipod Nano that my wife gave me for Christmas. I've packed out its supposed 2 G capacity (it seems to only hold 1.7 G), and enjoying it. My wife really surprised me with it, as I was never expected such a gift. I only hinted at how nice it would be to have one just a week or so ago (she had already purchased it weeks before!), and lo and behold.
And speaking of lo and behold, as cool as it is to finally have my own ipod, it is hard to believe that Christmas has come and gone once more. Christmas Eve for my family started with us going to our church's second service (no Sunday School that day, so we slept in, and went to a local restaurant for brunch before heading over to worship). After worship and celebrating the fourth Sunday of Advent, we came home, cleaned up some for family coming over later (actually my wife did most of the prep while I played some video games with the kids). My mom and my cousin and her husband came over later in the afternoon, and we all headed back to the sanctuary for our "Family" Christmas Eve service, alias, the "noisy, I don't know how to behave in worship" service (but hey, I'm not bitter!). It actually was nice over all. My daughters both sang as part of the children's choir, and both my oldest daughter and I read from the gospel accounts of Christ's birth.
There's more to our Christmas evening, but I really want to just mention a thought about Christ's birth. To stop and think about it, it is absolutely incredible that such a thing happened, and became reality. The idea of God becoming a human being, and yet, still fully God. It is the most amazing act of love and compassion conceivable. God became one of us. God among us. And that effects of the incarnation still go on. In late Spring we'll celebrate Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit was given to those who confess Christ as Lord. The Holy Spirit keeps the power of the incarnation alive in each of us.
This is God's love for us. Jesus Christ. Son of God. God with us. I hope that as you continue enjoy what time you have off from work or school, as you have fun with whatever Christmas presents you received, that you would remember this greatest of presents. May you be blessed by that great event of some two thousand years ago. Merry Christmas!!!
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Wouldn't It Be Strange?
My friend, Fred Kofi Afedzi Hagan gave me the 1999 Charlie Peacock album 'Kingdom Come' this past summer, and I found that the second track has easily become my favorite. In a sense, it's a compilation of some of Jesus' hard sayings focusing on what it means to live in the Kingdom. "Wouldn't It Be Strange?" challenges our understanding of "right" Kingdom living. The choruses goes as such:
Wouldn't it be strange if riches made you poor,
if everything you earned left you wanting more?
Wouldn't it be strange to question what it's for?
Wouldn't it be strange if power made you weak,
if victory came to those who turn the other cheek?
Wouldn't it be strange to welcome your defeat?
Wouldn't it be strange to find out in the end,
the first will be last and all the losers win?
Wouldn't it be strange if Jesus came again?
These lyrics come from places in the Gospels like Matthew 5:39 and Luke 6:29, Matthew 16:25 and Luke 17:33, Matthew 19:30 and Mark 10: 43-45, and Acts 1:9-11. I think the problem is how closely the Church culture strangely reflects Worldly culture, especially in terms of what we place value upon. After working in the Church for twelve plus years, I can testify from first hand experience that there is subtle (and not so subtle) worldliness that has disguised itself as particular kind of false piety. The sad thing is, I think, that most people don't really recognize it. And it is difficult for most pastors and elders to communicate, teach, and model for congregations. One question that comes to mind is, what is normative for interpreting and living out the faith, both personally and corporately? The interesting tension here is the difference between appropriate ownership and indigenization of the Gospel by a particular culture or people group, and the Gospel becoming so acculturated that we equate the controlling of and/or participating in the culture with living out the Gospel rightly. So what is the difference? I'm feeling that there's little difference in the mind of many Christians in the West.
My questions are tough. Is your church preaching this? Is your small group wrestling with what this means? with the implications of this? Are you asking the Holy Spirit to help you living in a manner worthy of your calling? Wouldn't it be strange if Christians suddenly started to live like this?
What do you think?
Wouldn't it be strange if riches made you poor,
if everything you earned left you wanting more?
Wouldn't it be strange to question what it's for?
Wouldn't it be strange if power made you weak,
if victory came to those who turn the other cheek?
Wouldn't it be strange to welcome your defeat?
Wouldn't it be strange to find out in the end,
the first will be last and all the losers win?
Wouldn't it be strange if Jesus came again?
These lyrics come from places in the Gospels like Matthew 5:39 and Luke 6:29, Matthew 16:25 and Luke 17:33, Matthew 19:30 and Mark 10: 43-45, and Acts 1:9-11. I think the problem is how closely the Church culture strangely reflects Worldly culture, especially in terms of what we place value upon. After working in the Church for twelve plus years, I can testify from first hand experience that there is subtle (and not so subtle) worldliness that has disguised itself as particular kind of false piety. The sad thing is, I think, that most people don't really recognize it. And it is difficult for most pastors and elders to communicate, teach, and model for congregations. One question that comes to mind is, what is normative for interpreting and living out the faith, both personally and corporately? The interesting tension here is the difference between appropriate ownership and indigenization of the Gospel by a particular culture or people group, and the Gospel becoming so acculturated that we equate the controlling of and/or participating in the culture with living out the Gospel rightly. So what is the difference? I'm feeling that there's little difference in the mind of many Christians in the West.
My questions are tough. Is your church preaching this? Is your small group wrestling with what this means? with the implications of this? Are you asking the Holy Spirit to help you living in a manner worthy of your calling? Wouldn't it be strange if Christians suddenly started to live like this?
What do you think?
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Scripture as the Ground for Theology
In this last year, I came across two quotes that I found complimentary to one another. While I cannot give credit to the "authors", I cannot take that credit for myself. The first was, "The Bible is the soul of all theology." And the second was, "Theology is the wall that protects the Bible." The two must be paired together; they are mutually informative of one another. In giving serious consideration to how one reads scripture and how one works out theology, we must be careful not to fall into the modernist trap of artificially separating the two from one another. We must read the scriptures, understanding that they were written in a certain context, to a certain people, at a certain time, by certain men. And yet, we must realize that they were written down at the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. But what does that mean? Does it mean, as some would say, that this means that every last word was carefully chosen, essentially dictated by the Holy Spirit to men who merely acted as stenographers? Say it ain't so! The Bible, its content, though divinely inspired, was written down by men, and incorporated by men in its current format, what we call the Canon. We should rightly believe this all to have divine inspiration behind it. But we should not remove the humanity of the authors from our understanding either. After all, what is it to say that one Gospel writer's Greek was better than another writer? Was one more divinely inspired than the other? Can you see the rabbit trails and red herrings that open up to waste our time?
Instead, let us consider that the scriptures are man's divinely inspired words about God. I point to Barth's 3-Fold Word of God, whereby we know and acknowledge that Jesus Christ is the eternal, living Word of God incarnate, the first and true Word of God. Scripture is the second Word of God, that which records God's and God's people's faith, struggles, successes, failures, and histories, not to mention plain old instructions for living out of that faith, but is only and truly the Word of God when read with the eyes of faith. And the third Word of God is the proclamation of the Word of God, rightly done - not every sermon can be said to be this third tier - it is ultimately up to the workings of God's Spirit to bring that about. But all three of these are some how or another integrated. We must acknowledge that any and all revelation of the three comes solely from God alone. Any understanding that we can lay claim to, cannot be misunderstood as to be from our own insight - consider Peter's testimony as to Jesus' identity in Matthew 16; Jesus Himself told Peter that he was able to proclaim that truth only because it was revealed to him by the Father. And so it is today. What we claim to know or understand about God is not through our own shrewd study of scripture, but through the Holy Spirit's work of leading us into all truth.
But this can only happen as we read and learn the scriptures as our frame of reference. We cannot make any faith claims on scripture without first letting God lay claim to every part of our lives (not in a sense that we can become perfected through our own force of will). We must prayerfully read the Bible, asking God to make known to us what it means. This is not accomplished through personal interpretation per se. It relies on a mix of proper exegesis, understanding the historical context, and whole-book context that verses and chapters fall into. This is to say, we must go beyond simple proof texting, and look for what God wants to tell and reveal to us. And, we must do this beyond ourselves. That is, we must work collaboratively, as much as that's possible, to insure that we our not forcing our individual aprioris onto the message of the text, and therefore into our theological statements. At the same time, we must allow the scriptures to critique our aprioris, for as the Word of God, it stands apart from the work that we are trying to synthesize from it. And this is important for each culture and each generation, as our contexts are different, so will scripture's critique be different, and so will our understanding. That is not to say that we should reject the theological workings of the past. But it is to say that just as Martin Luther and John Calvin were required to respond to the challenges of their days, so are we called to step up and biblically and theologically address our age.
What do you think???
Instead, let us consider that the scriptures are man's divinely inspired words about God. I point to Barth's 3-Fold Word of God, whereby we know and acknowledge that Jesus Christ is the eternal, living Word of God incarnate, the first and true Word of God. Scripture is the second Word of God, that which records God's and God's people's faith, struggles, successes, failures, and histories, not to mention plain old instructions for living out of that faith, but is only and truly the Word of God when read with the eyes of faith. And the third Word of God is the proclamation of the Word of God, rightly done - not every sermon can be said to be this third tier - it is ultimately up to the workings of God's Spirit to bring that about. But all three of these are some how or another integrated. We must acknowledge that any and all revelation of the three comes solely from God alone. Any understanding that we can lay claim to, cannot be misunderstood as to be from our own insight - consider Peter's testimony as to Jesus' identity in Matthew 16; Jesus Himself told Peter that he was able to proclaim that truth only because it was revealed to him by the Father. And so it is today. What we claim to know or understand about God is not through our own shrewd study of scripture, but through the Holy Spirit's work of leading us into all truth.
But this can only happen as we read and learn the scriptures as our frame of reference. We cannot make any faith claims on scripture without first letting God lay claim to every part of our lives (not in a sense that we can become perfected through our own force of will). We must prayerfully read the Bible, asking God to make known to us what it means. This is not accomplished through personal interpretation per se. It relies on a mix of proper exegesis, understanding the historical context, and whole-book context that verses and chapters fall into. This is to say, we must go beyond simple proof texting, and look for what God wants to tell and reveal to us. And, we must do this beyond ourselves. That is, we must work collaboratively, as much as that's possible, to insure that we our not forcing our individual aprioris onto the message of the text, and therefore into our theological statements. At the same time, we must allow the scriptures to critique our aprioris, for as the Word of God, it stands apart from the work that we are trying to synthesize from it. And this is important for each culture and each generation, as our contexts are different, so will scripture's critique be different, and so will our understanding. That is not to say that we should reject the theological workings of the past. But it is to say that just as Martin Luther and John Calvin were required to respond to the challenges of their days, so are we called to step up and biblically and theologically address our age.
What do you think???
Monday, December 11, 2006
Behind the Sermon on Suffering
As a matter of course, I want to explain some things about my previous entry, this sermon on suffering. What started out as a class assignment (and not necessarily one I was enthralled with), actually took on a life of its own. As I sat down to write it, it proceeded to write itself. It was, for me, a catharsis of sorts.
And this is at the heart of what I wanted to share here... In writing out this sermon, in examining this short passage of Haggai, and trying to determine what this passage was saying, I had to deal with how do we look at God with eyes of faith, when so-called promises of redemption seem to fall flat. Haggai made some pretty audacious statements at the end of his prophetic work. And little came to pass in terms of its coming to fruition. I not only wondered how the people of God felt, I actually was wrestling with my own issues of disappointment with God, and wondered, what's next?
This sermon allowed me to work through some of those issues. And, as I struggled to understand the text beyond the text, I came to a quiet and silently provacative understanding that ultimately, God calls us to have faith in the silence that follows the text. That is where I am. That is the power of the sermon, at least for me. It ended up being a powerful sermon to preach in class, and as I finished giving it to my class, I knew I had glorified God.
And this is at the heart of what I wanted to share here... In writing out this sermon, in examining this short passage of Haggai, and trying to determine what this passage was saying, I had to deal with how do we look at God with eyes of faith, when so-called promises of redemption seem to fall flat. Haggai made some pretty audacious statements at the end of his prophetic work. And little came to pass in terms of its coming to fruition. I not only wondered how the people of God felt, I actually was wrestling with my own issues of disappointment with God, and wondered, what's next?
This sermon allowed me to work through some of those issues. And, as I struggled to understand the text beyond the text, I came to a quiet and silently provacative understanding that ultimately, God calls us to have faith in the silence that follows the text. That is where I am. That is the power of the sermon, at least for me. It ended up being a powerful sermon to preach in class, and as I finished giving it to my class, I knew I had glorified God.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
A Sermon about Suffering
This is a sermon that I delivered to my 'Theology of the Exile' class as an assignment. We had to preach from the text of a Post-Exilic prophet. Hey, I like challenges, so I chose to preach from Haggai 2:20-23, with the focus on how do we deal with disappointment with God? It was one of those inspired sermons. As I sat down to write it, it pretty much wrote itself. It's not perfect, to say the least, and a couple of my class mates felt I rushed too quickly to the "Jesus" answer, but the point is that ultimately, the sermon was written for me, and for that matter, for anyone struggling with God's silence in the face of suffering. So read on ... and let me know what you think ...
Today, I want to invite you to consider life’s roller coasters; to look at the ups and downs of life in general, and our own lives specifically. We’ve all experienced that excitement that happens when words of promise and hope come our way, it’s a difficult thing not to get caught up in the whirlwind, no matter who you are. Think back a couple of years ago. We saw it when the democrats put forth John Kerry as their presidential candidate four years after a disappointing defeat. We saw it when the republicans nominated George W. Bush to a second candidacy, hoping for four more years. We felt it when the Eagles made it to their fourth NFC championship game, and then to the superbowl for the first time in over twenty years. Let’s face it, when people get excited, they really get excited. To be hopeful, to live for something hopeful is, I think, something we are naturally wired for as humans. No one would say that it’s wrong to want or yearn for hope. And in our scripture passage today, we read that the prophet Haggai is delivering a message that is full of such excitement, hope, and promise such as the Jews have not seen in a long time. After all, they had been exiled from their home land. Their lives not only disrupted, but devastated by the events of Babylon’s destruction of Jerusalem, and the beloved Temple.
Picture it for yourselves… to be under the impression that you are under the protection of the LORD and that He shall always inhabit His Temple, and then the shock of becoming a beaten and subjected people, carried off to a foreign land, wondering what would become of everything you knew and loved. But then hope! Your family has actually made a go of it in this strange land. You’ve been able to prosper. And suddenly, your people find out that the Babylonians themselves have been beaten by a new empire, the Persians. And you wonder, what does this mean? What does it mean when the Persian King Cyrus issues an edict announcing that the Jews in Babylon can return to Judah, to Jerusalem? What does it mean? You return, though not entirely certain, for life was good in Babylon, and not everyone left, even with the promise of rebuilding that old beloved city. And so you go. But when you arrive your hopes are fast to fade. The city is in ruins, a sense of hopelessness, and the first images of devastation grip you firmly as you arrive in the old land of promise. And as you gather your family, that family that has grown and prospered in exile, you wonder if you’ve made a major mistake by returning to Jerusalem. Here you are, and your heart is at a fork in the road, with one direction leading to despair, and the other toward hope. So what are you thinking? What are you going to do? Perhaps these are the questions that many of the Jews who returned to Jerusalem felt or struggled with.
Into this situation of doubt comes the prophet Haggai. Not much is known about this prophet of the post-Exilic period. He seems to have begun his preaching around 520 BC, around the beginning of the reign of the Persian King Darius. It is not known whether he was among those returning, or was someone who had been left behind in the land. We do know that this prophet was very concerned about the future of the people, and he saw their future blessings tied up with the construction of a new Temple. But he was faced with overcoming a lot of disappointment first. After all, you can’t just launch a major building fund campaign when the people aren’t exactly confident of where God has led them. It may have been easy for Jeremiah to have purchased a plot of land so long ago. It may have been easy for the prophet Isaiah to speak about new beginnings and a new exodus. But when it looks like the land of milk and honey curdled or soured a long time ago, you know it’s not going to be easy going.
And here’s Haggai, this walking, talking mystery prophet who challenges the people to harken back to the days of yester year and remember how great it was to have a great Temple to the One True God, and to have a King in the line of David on the throne. And he pushes that button, that button of hope; that the LORD is going to do it all over again. Oh, Zerubbabel may only be the governor of Judah now, but the LORD has plans for him. Consider what the text says: The LORD has promised to shake the heavens and the earth, to overturn royal thrones and shatter the power of the foreign kingdoms, to overthrow chariots and their drivers. This is good. This is just what a Jew coming out of the exile might want to hear. And if that’s not enough, the LORD Almighty has promised to make Zerubbabel His signet ring. Although there’s a great many opinions as to what Haggai means by making such declarations about Zerubbabel, whether he’s speaking of outright political independence from Persia or any other foreign power, or he just means a resurgence of Judah from the ash heap of its last hundred years is hard to say. But how can you not feel the excitement, or not get caught up in the promise of new hope, the promise of a new beginning? This must have sounded like good news to those who had returned from Jerusalem and were questioning the sanity of that choice.
And yet ultimately, we must deal with the realities of life. I think Haggai’s prophecy, for all of its hope, for all of its excitement, for all its promise, is a story that ends on a silent, unwritten post-script: what happened to Zerubbabel? There is no other mention of the governor, … by Haggai, or any other prophet or chronicler. One commentator even says that this passage cannot be adequately explained by its contemporary history. We are left to wonder. And I wonder if it didn’t leave the people of Jerusalem to wonder just what had happened.
It certainly leaves us moderns to wrestle with the implications of this promise that seems unfulfilled. And it leaves us to wrestle with the painful question of what do we do when God disappoints. Oh, this goes far deeper than the disappointment of your candidate for President losing another close race, or your candidate for President winning, but then taking the country in the wrong direction. And it’s oh so much more than when the football team you’ve loved and rooted for all your life finally gets over that final hurdle and then goes onto lose the superbowl.
No, this is real life. This is the deepest, heartsick notion of disappointment with God that we must wrestle with today, because it is a place that too often we as Christians tread, and at the same time, it is a place too many of us deny having been. Let’s face it, who wants to hear a sermon on disappointment, let alone disappointment with God; who wants to be confronted by the dashing of one’s hopes and joys upon the rocks of disappointment? And yet, that is where we tread this morning because we carry disappointments, and many of us have walls up between us and God, and between us and one another.
And so, what is your disappointment? Author Philip Yancey says that disappointment occurs when the actual experience of something falls short of what we anticipate or expect. How do we gauge the effects of a failed marriage?; of getting fired from a job?; of receiving a devastating medical diagnosis?; or of losing a pastor to sin? What do we do when we’ve prayed for healing and it doesn’t come? How do we deal with God’s “promise” not coming to pass? What are we to feel and think when we believe, or think God has let us down – that God has disappointed our hopes?
Disappointment is quite possibly one of the oldest of human experiences. It must have been present when Adam and Eve buried their youngest son after his murder by his older brother. After bargaining with God to spare Sodom, did Abraham feel disappointed when the LORD wiped out that city? And consider the many Psalms of disappointment, such as Ps. 44: 23-24, “Awake, O Lord! Why do you sleep? Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever. Why do you hide your face and forget our misery and oppression?” Did Haggai feel this way? Have you ever felt this way? Has God ever left you to wonder if He’s rejected you? I think many of us have. And perhaps, as you sit here listening, you are even now, wrestling with such feelings in your hearts.
As I bring you this word, I can testify to its challenges and difficulties, because I too am struggling with disappointment with God. I am in the midst of trying to make sense of what God has allowed to happen, or has not kept from happening in my life of late. I have spent tearful times in prayer lately, asking God to make it all right, to bring me vindication and justice. I have told God that I am thoroughly disappointed with Him, and that my faith in Him has taken a beating. And to be brutally honest, I have found little relief - - - There is no wonderful Christian triumphal celebrating in my story so far. I bring you this word this morning amidst my personal disappointments. I bring you this message of disappointment from a place of dark uncertainty. And I can tell you that even as I struggle with my disappointment with God, I am brought lower in my struggle by being disappointed with myself, with the guilt I feel due to what seems to be my egregious lack of faith and trust in the God who has shown Himself faithful and trustworthy so many times before in my own past. And I have to admit, both to God and to myself, I can’t do this anymore. I don’t have the strength to keep on keeping on. Does this sound familiar to your own story of disappointment?
So I ask, what do we do now? So what that we are being honest. Yes, we hurt, we admit it. But now what? I offer you no trite or plastic offerings of hope this morning. They are meaningless to me, and I will assume they would be equally meaningless to you, too.
And yet, as if to contradict myself, I will say there is hope, true hope. And paradoxically, we find it by going back to those same four verses of Haggai. For in the same way that we found a strange silence following such excitement, we must look to this text and allow what it says in and of itself to have the integrity to stand on its own. I said just a moment ago that I offer nothing trite, so please do not misunderstand what I say here: I have discovered that there is only one answer to disappointment, and that is hope. We must hope, even when the only evidence we have for such a thing is found in the ancient writings of some far away people and place. As we read the last verses of Haggai, we should ask such questions like what happened? Why didn’t God make good on His promise? - - - But to get mired and stuck in this… this disappointment, is to ultimately miss the point of Haggai’s words to the people of Jerusalem as they dealt with the disappointment of returning to that haggard land. It is exactly in these words of hope and promise that God’s people must find hand-holds and foot-holds for our faith. It is only in these words that we can sufficiently understand what God is offering, ironic and empty though they might seem.
Yes, perhaps nothing came of these grand promises. After all, Zerubbabel disappears from the pages of history. Whether he had second thoughts and cold feet, and dropped out of the limelight, or was forcibly pulled off history’s stage by nervous Persians who saw the potential for further unrest in their empire has yet to be decided - - but we know that nothing happened. And if we leave it at that, we have every right to be mired in our disappointments. BUT there is more. For Haggai’s words are not meant to hold us in the doom and gloom of the present, but rather, to look to the future, to look to God.
Haggai’s prophecy of hope may have been rooted in Zerubbabel, but we must look well beyond the scope of the text, knowing that God’s work reached well beyond that: that the promise was made good in the incarnation of His own Son, Jesus.
Sometimes, many times, I think that the very thing we think God offers us as the hope we’ve longed to see fulfilled is merely a signifier for something even far better than what we can hope for or imagine. Yes, Haggai prophesied in the name of the LORD, and nothing seemed to have come to pass, and yet it was not the end of the people of Israel. Yes, disappointment after disappointment was met by the supposed people of God, and yet, even after 400 some years of silence, the people of God were still a part of God’s story, and heard the voice of one calling in the wilderness, make straight the way of the Lord. I think it is fair to say that when we read Haggai, when we hear those words of hope and promise read aloud, we must admit to the disappointment of their unfulfillment. But we must also look at and listen to those words, and see where they are pointing, because ultimately, they are not pointing at Zerubbabel, but at the LORD, the one who is the source of hope and promise.
We may not be able to make such connections between the person we’d like to see in the White House, or the team we’d like to see in the superbowl, or the relationship we want to see repaired, but through Haggai’s words, we can wrestle with our deepest disappointments and still discover hope. The overcoming of our disappointments is not so much found in our finally getting what we wanted in the first place, but perhaps they’re found in realizing that what we hope for, what we so desperately cry out for is not so much what we need as much as we really only need the One to whom we cry. What we hope for is never enough. For the One in whom we hope is the only answer to the silence that follows Haggai, and the silence that empowers such disappointment as we struggle with. I offer this wrestling match to you this morning, not because I make light of anyone’s disappointments, but because I, too, struggle this morning. This sermon is for me as much as anyone else. Only in dragging this beast out of the dark recesses of our hearts and minds, even now kicking and screaming, can we see our disappointments in the perspective of the light of God’s love for us in Jesus Christ. In His light, we receive His grace that gives us even just enough hope to keep on keeping on.
I hope that in the midst of this roller coaster, you have received even a small nugget of that grace this morning. There are no easy answers, no easy solutions, no magic spells to make things the way we think or want that they should be. But better than all of that, God offers Himself in the place of our broken dreams and unfulfilled hopes. And that is the best promise of hope in the face of disappointment. Amen.
Today, I want to invite you to consider life’s roller coasters; to look at the ups and downs of life in general, and our own lives specifically. We’ve all experienced that excitement that happens when words of promise and hope come our way, it’s a difficult thing not to get caught up in the whirlwind, no matter who you are. Think back a couple of years ago. We saw it when the democrats put forth John Kerry as their presidential candidate four years after a disappointing defeat. We saw it when the republicans nominated George W. Bush to a second candidacy, hoping for four more years. We felt it when the Eagles made it to their fourth NFC championship game, and then to the superbowl for the first time in over twenty years. Let’s face it, when people get excited, they really get excited. To be hopeful, to live for something hopeful is, I think, something we are naturally wired for as humans. No one would say that it’s wrong to want or yearn for hope. And in our scripture passage today, we read that the prophet Haggai is delivering a message that is full of such excitement, hope, and promise such as the Jews have not seen in a long time. After all, they had been exiled from their home land. Their lives not only disrupted, but devastated by the events of Babylon’s destruction of Jerusalem, and the beloved Temple.
Picture it for yourselves… to be under the impression that you are under the protection of the LORD and that He shall always inhabit His Temple, and then the shock of becoming a beaten and subjected people, carried off to a foreign land, wondering what would become of everything you knew and loved. But then hope! Your family has actually made a go of it in this strange land. You’ve been able to prosper. And suddenly, your people find out that the Babylonians themselves have been beaten by a new empire, the Persians. And you wonder, what does this mean? What does it mean when the Persian King Cyrus issues an edict announcing that the Jews in Babylon can return to Judah, to Jerusalem? What does it mean? You return, though not entirely certain, for life was good in Babylon, and not everyone left, even with the promise of rebuilding that old beloved city. And so you go. But when you arrive your hopes are fast to fade. The city is in ruins, a sense of hopelessness, and the first images of devastation grip you firmly as you arrive in the old land of promise. And as you gather your family, that family that has grown and prospered in exile, you wonder if you’ve made a major mistake by returning to Jerusalem. Here you are, and your heart is at a fork in the road, with one direction leading to despair, and the other toward hope. So what are you thinking? What are you going to do? Perhaps these are the questions that many of the Jews who returned to Jerusalem felt or struggled with.
Into this situation of doubt comes the prophet Haggai. Not much is known about this prophet of the post-Exilic period. He seems to have begun his preaching around 520 BC, around the beginning of the reign of the Persian King Darius. It is not known whether he was among those returning, or was someone who had been left behind in the land. We do know that this prophet was very concerned about the future of the people, and he saw their future blessings tied up with the construction of a new Temple. But he was faced with overcoming a lot of disappointment first. After all, you can’t just launch a major building fund campaign when the people aren’t exactly confident of where God has led them. It may have been easy for Jeremiah to have purchased a plot of land so long ago. It may have been easy for the prophet Isaiah to speak about new beginnings and a new exodus. But when it looks like the land of milk and honey curdled or soured a long time ago, you know it’s not going to be easy going.
And here’s Haggai, this walking, talking mystery prophet who challenges the people to harken back to the days of yester year and remember how great it was to have a great Temple to the One True God, and to have a King in the line of David on the throne. And he pushes that button, that button of hope; that the LORD is going to do it all over again. Oh, Zerubbabel may only be the governor of Judah now, but the LORD has plans for him. Consider what the text says: The LORD has promised to shake the heavens and the earth, to overturn royal thrones and shatter the power of the foreign kingdoms, to overthrow chariots and their drivers. This is good. This is just what a Jew coming out of the exile might want to hear. And if that’s not enough, the LORD Almighty has promised to make Zerubbabel His signet ring. Although there’s a great many opinions as to what Haggai means by making such declarations about Zerubbabel, whether he’s speaking of outright political independence from Persia or any other foreign power, or he just means a resurgence of Judah from the ash heap of its last hundred years is hard to say. But how can you not feel the excitement, or not get caught up in the promise of new hope, the promise of a new beginning? This must have sounded like good news to those who had returned from Jerusalem and were questioning the sanity of that choice.
And yet ultimately, we must deal with the realities of life. I think Haggai’s prophecy, for all of its hope, for all of its excitement, for all its promise, is a story that ends on a silent, unwritten post-script: what happened to Zerubbabel? There is no other mention of the governor, … by Haggai, or any other prophet or chronicler. One commentator even says that this passage cannot be adequately explained by its contemporary history. We are left to wonder. And I wonder if it didn’t leave the people of Jerusalem to wonder just what had happened.
It certainly leaves us moderns to wrestle with the implications of this promise that seems unfulfilled. And it leaves us to wrestle with the painful question of what do we do when God disappoints. Oh, this goes far deeper than the disappointment of your candidate for President losing another close race, or your candidate for President winning, but then taking the country in the wrong direction. And it’s oh so much more than when the football team you’ve loved and rooted for all your life finally gets over that final hurdle and then goes onto lose the superbowl.
No, this is real life. This is the deepest, heartsick notion of disappointment with God that we must wrestle with today, because it is a place that too often we as Christians tread, and at the same time, it is a place too many of us deny having been. Let’s face it, who wants to hear a sermon on disappointment, let alone disappointment with God; who wants to be confronted by the dashing of one’s hopes and joys upon the rocks of disappointment? And yet, that is where we tread this morning because we carry disappointments, and many of us have walls up between us and God, and between us and one another.
And so, what is your disappointment? Author Philip Yancey says that disappointment occurs when the actual experience of something falls short of what we anticipate or expect. How do we gauge the effects of a failed marriage?; of getting fired from a job?; of receiving a devastating medical diagnosis?; or of losing a pastor to sin? What do we do when we’ve prayed for healing and it doesn’t come? How do we deal with God’s “promise” not coming to pass? What are we to feel and think when we believe, or think God has let us down – that God has disappointed our hopes?
Disappointment is quite possibly one of the oldest of human experiences. It must have been present when Adam and Eve buried their youngest son after his murder by his older brother. After bargaining with God to spare Sodom, did Abraham feel disappointed when the LORD wiped out that city? And consider the many Psalms of disappointment, such as Ps. 44: 23-24, “Awake, O Lord! Why do you sleep? Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever. Why do you hide your face and forget our misery and oppression?” Did Haggai feel this way? Have you ever felt this way? Has God ever left you to wonder if He’s rejected you? I think many of us have. And perhaps, as you sit here listening, you are even now, wrestling with such feelings in your hearts.
As I bring you this word, I can testify to its challenges and difficulties, because I too am struggling with disappointment with God. I am in the midst of trying to make sense of what God has allowed to happen, or has not kept from happening in my life of late. I have spent tearful times in prayer lately, asking God to make it all right, to bring me vindication and justice. I have told God that I am thoroughly disappointed with Him, and that my faith in Him has taken a beating. And to be brutally honest, I have found little relief - - - There is no wonderful Christian triumphal celebrating in my story so far. I bring you this word this morning amidst my personal disappointments. I bring you this message of disappointment from a place of dark uncertainty. And I can tell you that even as I struggle with my disappointment with God, I am brought lower in my struggle by being disappointed with myself, with the guilt I feel due to what seems to be my egregious lack of faith and trust in the God who has shown Himself faithful and trustworthy so many times before in my own past. And I have to admit, both to God and to myself, I can’t do this anymore. I don’t have the strength to keep on keeping on. Does this sound familiar to your own story of disappointment?
So I ask, what do we do now? So what that we are being honest. Yes, we hurt, we admit it. But now what? I offer you no trite or plastic offerings of hope this morning. They are meaningless to me, and I will assume they would be equally meaningless to you, too.
And yet, as if to contradict myself, I will say there is hope, true hope. And paradoxically, we find it by going back to those same four verses of Haggai. For in the same way that we found a strange silence following such excitement, we must look to this text and allow what it says in and of itself to have the integrity to stand on its own. I said just a moment ago that I offer nothing trite, so please do not misunderstand what I say here: I have discovered that there is only one answer to disappointment, and that is hope. We must hope, even when the only evidence we have for such a thing is found in the ancient writings of some far away people and place. As we read the last verses of Haggai, we should ask such questions like what happened? Why didn’t God make good on His promise? - - - But to get mired and stuck in this… this disappointment, is to ultimately miss the point of Haggai’s words to the people of Jerusalem as they dealt with the disappointment of returning to that haggard land. It is exactly in these words of hope and promise that God’s people must find hand-holds and foot-holds for our faith. It is only in these words that we can sufficiently understand what God is offering, ironic and empty though they might seem.
Yes, perhaps nothing came of these grand promises. After all, Zerubbabel disappears from the pages of history. Whether he had second thoughts and cold feet, and dropped out of the limelight, or was forcibly pulled off history’s stage by nervous Persians who saw the potential for further unrest in their empire has yet to be decided - - but we know that nothing happened. And if we leave it at that, we have every right to be mired in our disappointments. BUT there is more. For Haggai’s words are not meant to hold us in the doom and gloom of the present, but rather, to look to the future, to look to God.
Haggai’s prophecy of hope may have been rooted in Zerubbabel, but we must look well beyond the scope of the text, knowing that God’s work reached well beyond that: that the promise was made good in the incarnation of His own Son, Jesus.
Sometimes, many times, I think that the very thing we think God offers us as the hope we’ve longed to see fulfilled is merely a signifier for something even far better than what we can hope for or imagine. Yes, Haggai prophesied in the name of the LORD, and nothing seemed to have come to pass, and yet it was not the end of the people of Israel. Yes, disappointment after disappointment was met by the supposed people of God, and yet, even after 400 some years of silence, the people of God were still a part of God’s story, and heard the voice of one calling in the wilderness, make straight the way of the Lord. I think it is fair to say that when we read Haggai, when we hear those words of hope and promise read aloud, we must admit to the disappointment of their unfulfillment. But we must also look at and listen to those words, and see where they are pointing, because ultimately, they are not pointing at Zerubbabel, but at the LORD, the one who is the source of hope and promise.
We may not be able to make such connections between the person we’d like to see in the White House, or the team we’d like to see in the superbowl, or the relationship we want to see repaired, but through Haggai’s words, we can wrestle with our deepest disappointments and still discover hope. The overcoming of our disappointments is not so much found in our finally getting what we wanted in the first place, but perhaps they’re found in realizing that what we hope for, what we so desperately cry out for is not so much what we need as much as we really only need the One to whom we cry. What we hope for is never enough. For the One in whom we hope is the only answer to the silence that follows Haggai, and the silence that empowers such disappointment as we struggle with. I offer this wrestling match to you this morning, not because I make light of anyone’s disappointments, but because I, too, struggle this morning. This sermon is for me as much as anyone else. Only in dragging this beast out of the dark recesses of our hearts and minds, even now kicking and screaming, can we see our disappointments in the perspective of the light of God’s love for us in Jesus Christ. In His light, we receive His grace that gives us even just enough hope to keep on keeping on.
I hope that in the midst of this roller coaster, you have received even a small nugget of that grace this morning. There are no easy answers, no easy solutions, no magic spells to make things the way we think or want that they should be. But better than all of that, God offers Himself in the place of our broken dreams and unfulfilled hopes. And that is the best promise of hope in the face of disappointment. Amen.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Rarely Early, Never Late, and Always on Time
The title refers, of course, to the fact that with my church severance (ooops, I meant to "say" compensation) package about to run out in the next couple of weeks, God came through for our family. After many months of prayers, our own and many friends, the Lord provided a full-time position for my wife, at the company she's been working at for the last ten years (almost eight as p-t), within her department, at the same pay rate. All I can say is, "PRAISE GOD!!!"
This is BIG. I will admit to several things. First, I was really hoping she was going to get this position back in September so we could start paying off all of our credit, and still have some money to put into savings. Second, as time went by, I was starting to sweat some bullets and honestly was wrestling with some profound doubts about what God was doing with me and my family. And third, the Thursday a week before Thanksgiving was like a night of spiritual burn-out for me, and I was so gosh-darn angry at God over what seriously felt like His shoving my face in dog-dookie not at all of my own making. And then, just like that, it was as if we had turned a corner. I saw it that night, and took it in, but I was nervous to acknowledge that it could be so.
Yeah, we turned a corner. I felt it; sensed it. But I was afraid to say it aloud. Fearful that my Job-ian experience wasn't quite finished. After all, where were three "good" friends to tell me what a bad person I was (wait, I had already heard from them back in the church back in June!), and was still waiting to have God humble me profoundly. He did. But this time it was through the generosity of His Saints, the real church. A group of unnamed and unknown brothers and sisters (at least to me - certainly not to God) got together on three separate occassions, and provided for us out of their pockets for our material needs - which of course go far to help sustain our spiritual needs (can you tell I don't buy into a false bifurcation of spiritual and material?). In truly taking care of our needs out of love instead of some false sense of obligation, the people of the church subversively showed the impotency of certain individuals who think they represent God as leader in the church. It's a great moment of irony that will somehow miss the pages of the next edition of Church History, but it's a great read none the less for its potency in the face of such pathetic impotency.
But that's God. He's good. All the time. And though He wasn't early, He wasn't late; He was right on time! And I praise Him for His loving kindnesses. May we turn this corner together, and give God the glory. Amen and Amen.
This is BIG. I will admit to several things. First, I was really hoping she was going to get this position back in September so we could start paying off all of our credit, and still have some money to put into savings. Second, as time went by, I was starting to sweat some bullets and honestly was wrestling with some profound doubts about what God was doing with me and my family. And third, the Thursday a week before Thanksgiving was like a night of spiritual burn-out for me, and I was so gosh-darn angry at God over what seriously felt like His shoving my face in dog-dookie not at all of my own making. And then, just like that, it was as if we had turned a corner. I saw it that night, and took it in, but I was nervous to acknowledge that it could be so.
Yeah, we turned a corner. I felt it; sensed it. But I was afraid to say it aloud. Fearful that my Job-ian experience wasn't quite finished. After all, where were three "good" friends to tell me what a bad person I was (wait, I had already heard from them back in the church back in June!), and was still waiting to have God humble me profoundly. He did. But this time it was through the generosity of His Saints, the real church. A group of unnamed and unknown brothers and sisters (at least to me - certainly not to God) got together on three separate occassions, and provided for us out of their pockets for our material needs - which of course go far to help sustain our spiritual needs (can you tell I don't buy into a false bifurcation of spiritual and material?). In truly taking care of our needs out of love instead of some false sense of obligation, the people of the church subversively showed the impotency of certain individuals who think they represent God as leader in the church. It's a great moment of irony that will somehow miss the pages of the next edition of Church History, but it's a great read none the less for its potency in the face of such pathetic impotency.
But that's God. He's good. All the time. And though He wasn't early, He wasn't late; He was right on time! And I praise Him for His loving kindnesses. May we turn this corner together, and give God the glory. Amen and Amen.
Friday, November 17, 2006
A Sermon of Compassion
I wrote this "sermon" for my "Church as a Community of Compassion" class at Palmer. As of now, I've not given it, but I hope a time will come and soon when I can share this with the people of my congregation...
The front “page” of the New York Times web site this past Wednesday was filled with top stories of the ongoing war in Iraq. Interestingly, that same day, the Philadelphia Inquirer web site’s top story was about a fourteen year-old girl with cerebal palsy who wasted away and died due to supposed neglect by Philadelphia’s Department of Human Services. Two very different stories with two very different images. Two very different locations, concerns, and people effected. And yet, both strike at the very core of our shared humanity. Both of these stories are more than just the words on the proverbial page. Both of them have to do with life and death, and that which is between the two, the palpable tension of suffering versus compassion. What we have here in these stories are representative images of a world that is constantly struggling with the effects of that day in the garden when forbidden fruit was chosen over obedience and trust in a loving God. And my friends, we are still paying the bill for that choice.
I want you to consider this question, why is life so full of suffering? As much as it started in that garden, those two people, the first man and woman, have not been responsible for everything that has gone on since; that goes on to this day, today. And a second question that must be engaged lest anyone walk out of here feeling invigorated by a purely philosophical question: what does God expect of you and me in light of this suffering? Our focal text today is taken from Mark 9:14-29. Picture this story in your sanctified imagination. Jesus, Peter, James, and John are just returning from a night’s stay on a large hill top where the disciples experienced Jesus’ transfiguration. As they rejoin the rest of the group, they find the other disciples engaged in an argument with teachers of the law, all surrounded by a large crowd. Something of import and interest is going on here. Jesus is immediately brought into this event, when, as the scripture says, “As soon as all the people saw Jesus, they were overwhelmed with wonder and ran to greet him” (v.15). The people are overwhelmed with wonder, and upon seeing Jesus, they abandon the disciples, they abandon the teachers of the Law, and they run and greet Jesus. Something has happened that is beyond the scope of the disciples and the teachers. It is something that crowd understands or intuitively knows only Jesus can deal with.
Upon inquiring as to what’s going on, a man in the crowd speaks up and tells Jesus that his son is possessed by a spirit that is trying to kill him. He had gone to the disciples, but they were unable to drive out the spirit. Jesus did not need to read a newspaper to find a story of suffering. It found Him out. Unlike the priest, the Levite, and the teacher of the Law in Luke’s parable of the Good Samaritan, He did not walk around this man, his son, or their suffering. Curiously, Jesus speaks words of frustration at a crowd that is both quarrelsome and unbelieving before He engages the suffering of the man’s son. Remember, he engages. He does not jump in and just heal the boy. He engages with questions: “How long has he been like this?” (v.21a). “From childhood,” the man tells him (v.21b). When one is nervous, full of anxiety and fear, one tends to the extremes of either shutting down and not speaking, or talking too much. This man keeps on talking: “if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us” (v.22b). I wonder at the look on Jesus’ face when this man said this. Jesus’ reaction is swift, “If you can? Everything is possible for him who believes.” (v.23). Everything is possible for him who believes. Everything is possible for those who believe. What is Jesus thinking as He says this? Is He thinking, “Man, you brought your son to me, and now you’re wondering IF I can do anything?” Jesus’ words prick the man’s own fears and desperation, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” (v.24). And Jesus heals the man’s son, even as the spirit seems to take the very life out of the boy, leaving him looking as if dead. Jesus, of course, knows this boy is not dead, and personally reaches out and takes the boy’s hand and helps him onto his feet. This engagement is what I believe we need to focus on. There are several nuggets with which we must wrestle in order to address our earlier questions.
It is telling that as soon as Jesus shows up, the crowd disperses from the antagonists, and heads straight to Jesus. We must remind ourselves that these disciples are pre-Pentecost, therefore, they are not yet full of the Holy Spirit; they are not yet emboldened for the kingdom of God. But people know, they can tell oft times who is able to help and who is not; they can sniff out a phony. Whatever it was they were arguing about, the disciples and the teachers of the Law were no closer to responding to the boy’s suffering then than they were at the start of this episode. And while some crowds seem to thrive on controversy and suffering, in this case, this crowd was caught up in the desperation of the man. And why should they not be? Were they not his neighbors? Did they not know this man; know his son? He was one of their own. They knew the suffering that has been going on, well predating that day’s theological or methodological debate, for they themselves were overwhelmed. And they wanted resolution. And they came to Jesus because He was their last best hope. As an aside, it strikes me as telling that after a night of spiritual high on the proverbial mountain top, both Jesus and His disciples come down to this challenge, almost a test to see if their faith is rooted in mere experience or reflection, or is their faith a real faith rooted in a real God working in a real world. In coming to Jesus with the man, they reveal they themselves are looking for an end to this suffering; they are together looking for compassion.
But Jesus is not just a miracle worker. By speaking His frustrations out loud, His own humanity and divinity are expressed mutually – His humanity cannot be silent regarding the fogging of the real issue here; His divinity cannot understand the disbelief that is present. By engaging the man in questions, Jesus incarnates God into this man’s pain, and here-to-fore, his hopelessness. By challenging the man’s lack of belief, Jesus is challenging the man to get rid of the hopelessness he has lived with for years, and make room in his heart for hope. In his response, the man confesses both his disbelief and his fear, and his desperate need for the power to overcome those shackles. While Jesus also speaks a word of command to the spirit in casting it out, I find it more important for these purposes to examine the after-effects. That is, the spirit leaves the boy with much theatrics – to the point where the crowd, and probably the father, thought he was dead. This is no small detail to be overlooked. If he is dead, then Jesus is no better than the disciples or the teachers of the Law who showed themselves impotent to do anything more than argue with one another rather than risk failure. If he is dead, then there is the risk of ceremonial uncleanness, and I imagine that the teachers of the Law at this point probably moved to the back of the crowd so as not to accidentally risk breaking their own purity laws. And then there is Jesus. The only risk Jesus takes is not waiting to see how the crowd will respond. Jesus reaches out, seemingly a risky move, and takes the boy by the hand, and lifts him up to his feet, and as Luke adds in his gospel, gives him back to his father.
What are we doing here this morning, my friends? – If all we can do at the end of this story is just say how wonderful Jesus is, we miss the point of today’s reading. Let us turn back to the first question: Why is life so full of suffering? I hesitate to give any answer that will sound of hubris, for I know there are many here who are engaged in the act of suffering, and sadly, many are doing so privately and silently. This is not a question to be dealt with lightly or in a trite manner, with either well-meaning intentions, nor petty hallmark card-like sayings. Indeed, the answer I want to offer for your consideration today is less about the origins of suffering, but rather one that contends that it is real, and it is here among us. My answer looks at each of us sitting here, individually, and as a collective. And my answer may be bothersome and uncomfortable, but I think it is honest, and it is the best I can offer you this morning. Why is life so full of suffering? Because on one level, we often find it safer to debate and argue over the causes of suffering, or the methodologies of resolving it, rather than risk ourselves (that is, our own comfort, our own time, our own resources, and maybe even our own lives) by entering into the fray. And the second is like unto the first, as we more often than not see the risk as exposing us to failure and our disbelief over God’s power at work within us, rather than as opportunities to give God room to be glorified in us and through us, for the beneficial comfort and/or healing of the Other. And what might be worse is that we will not admit it; not to others, not to God, and not to ourselves. As long we are talking about it, praying about it, and have money to give toward it, we are dealing with it. But are we? That leads us to deal with the second question.
What does God expect of you and me in light of this suffering? Again, I cannot speak an over-arching meta-answer. But what I will suggest, much to my own discomfort, is that God expects us. Yes, us. Not a particular game plan, though that may be needed. What is God’s expectation? Us. You and me. All of us, who are the body of Christ. I think it is because of our culture’s lust with individuality that we struggle, resist, and choose to be ignorant of belonging to one another, and in recognizing the face of Jesus, the imago dei, in the face of the Other who is suffering. And we do not reach out. We stand before one another indicted by the fact that we are guilty of the sin of omission. I’m not asking you to go up to a person who is suffering and play God. Jesus did what He did because He was God incarnate. But I am saying to you, to myself, that we must believe in the wake-up call that Jesus gave to the father, “Everything is possible for him who believes," and then act on that belief. But rather than be as honest as the father, we ignore or push down our own suffering, we prevent others from knowing of our suffering, or we ignore the suffering of those who inhabit the pews of life. We lean toward denial because we think it easier than risk the pain. I’m not saying that we need to turn worship into one big circus-like episode of Dr. Phil. Most of us already know we need to just stop acting like stupid lemmings running towards the cliffs of life’s bad decisions. Instead, we must call out to Jesus to claim belief, and ask Him to help us overcome our unbelief. This comes from living out of our faith, and not our fears. It means we acknowledge the brokenness of others and ourselves. It means we read that story from Mark 9, and realize that it is a call to pick up where Jesus left off, and continue the story of compassion that Jesus showed the father, his son, and yes, the crowd. It means we are called to risk all for the Other because we are the Other that Jesus risked for. It is His example, and His power, at work in each of us and all of us together. As we engage as Jesus engages, we will risk who we are and become more like Jesus. It will be painful and unpleasant at times, but if we have hope in all that Jesus promises, then we can believe that this journey of compassion will bring us a joy that is hidden on this side of suffering. As we leave here today, I ask you to prayerfully consider what God is calling you to do, and what He is calling us to do, that would bring compassion into this world of suffering. It is a challenge. But I say Amen. And I invite you to do the same.
The front “page” of the New York Times web site this past Wednesday was filled with top stories of the ongoing war in Iraq. Interestingly, that same day, the Philadelphia Inquirer web site’s top story was about a fourteen year-old girl with cerebal palsy who wasted away and died due to supposed neglect by Philadelphia’s Department of Human Services. Two very different stories with two very different images. Two very different locations, concerns, and people effected. And yet, both strike at the very core of our shared humanity. Both of these stories are more than just the words on the proverbial page. Both of them have to do with life and death, and that which is between the two, the palpable tension of suffering versus compassion. What we have here in these stories are representative images of a world that is constantly struggling with the effects of that day in the garden when forbidden fruit was chosen over obedience and trust in a loving God. And my friends, we are still paying the bill for that choice.
I want you to consider this question, why is life so full of suffering? As much as it started in that garden, those two people, the first man and woman, have not been responsible for everything that has gone on since; that goes on to this day, today. And a second question that must be engaged lest anyone walk out of here feeling invigorated by a purely philosophical question: what does God expect of you and me in light of this suffering? Our focal text today is taken from Mark 9:14-29. Picture this story in your sanctified imagination. Jesus, Peter, James, and John are just returning from a night’s stay on a large hill top where the disciples experienced Jesus’ transfiguration. As they rejoin the rest of the group, they find the other disciples engaged in an argument with teachers of the law, all surrounded by a large crowd. Something of import and interest is going on here. Jesus is immediately brought into this event, when, as the scripture says, “As soon as all the people saw Jesus, they were overwhelmed with wonder and ran to greet him” (v.15). The people are overwhelmed with wonder, and upon seeing Jesus, they abandon the disciples, they abandon the teachers of the Law, and they run and greet Jesus. Something has happened that is beyond the scope of the disciples and the teachers. It is something that crowd understands or intuitively knows only Jesus can deal with.
Upon inquiring as to what’s going on, a man in the crowd speaks up and tells Jesus that his son is possessed by a spirit that is trying to kill him. He had gone to the disciples, but they were unable to drive out the spirit. Jesus did not need to read a newspaper to find a story of suffering. It found Him out. Unlike the priest, the Levite, and the teacher of the Law in Luke’s parable of the Good Samaritan, He did not walk around this man, his son, or their suffering. Curiously, Jesus speaks words of frustration at a crowd that is both quarrelsome and unbelieving before He engages the suffering of the man’s son. Remember, he engages. He does not jump in and just heal the boy. He engages with questions: “How long has he been like this?” (v.21a). “From childhood,” the man tells him (v.21b). When one is nervous, full of anxiety and fear, one tends to the extremes of either shutting down and not speaking, or talking too much. This man keeps on talking: “if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us” (v.22b). I wonder at the look on Jesus’ face when this man said this. Jesus’ reaction is swift, “If you can? Everything is possible for him who believes.” (v.23). Everything is possible for him who believes. Everything is possible for those who believe. What is Jesus thinking as He says this? Is He thinking, “Man, you brought your son to me, and now you’re wondering IF I can do anything?” Jesus’ words prick the man’s own fears and desperation, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” (v.24). And Jesus heals the man’s son, even as the spirit seems to take the very life out of the boy, leaving him looking as if dead. Jesus, of course, knows this boy is not dead, and personally reaches out and takes the boy’s hand and helps him onto his feet. This engagement is what I believe we need to focus on. There are several nuggets with which we must wrestle in order to address our earlier questions.
It is telling that as soon as Jesus shows up, the crowd disperses from the antagonists, and heads straight to Jesus. We must remind ourselves that these disciples are pre-Pentecost, therefore, they are not yet full of the Holy Spirit; they are not yet emboldened for the kingdom of God. But people know, they can tell oft times who is able to help and who is not; they can sniff out a phony. Whatever it was they were arguing about, the disciples and the teachers of the Law were no closer to responding to the boy’s suffering then than they were at the start of this episode. And while some crowds seem to thrive on controversy and suffering, in this case, this crowd was caught up in the desperation of the man. And why should they not be? Were they not his neighbors? Did they not know this man; know his son? He was one of their own. They knew the suffering that has been going on, well predating that day’s theological or methodological debate, for they themselves were overwhelmed. And they wanted resolution. And they came to Jesus because He was their last best hope. As an aside, it strikes me as telling that after a night of spiritual high on the proverbial mountain top, both Jesus and His disciples come down to this challenge, almost a test to see if their faith is rooted in mere experience or reflection, or is their faith a real faith rooted in a real God working in a real world. In coming to Jesus with the man, they reveal they themselves are looking for an end to this suffering; they are together looking for compassion.
But Jesus is not just a miracle worker. By speaking His frustrations out loud, His own humanity and divinity are expressed mutually – His humanity cannot be silent regarding the fogging of the real issue here; His divinity cannot understand the disbelief that is present. By engaging the man in questions, Jesus incarnates God into this man’s pain, and here-to-fore, his hopelessness. By challenging the man’s lack of belief, Jesus is challenging the man to get rid of the hopelessness he has lived with for years, and make room in his heart for hope. In his response, the man confesses both his disbelief and his fear, and his desperate need for the power to overcome those shackles. While Jesus also speaks a word of command to the spirit in casting it out, I find it more important for these purposes to examine the after-effects. That is, the spirit leaves the boy with much theatrics – to the point where the crowd, and probably the father, thought he was dead. This is no small detail to be overlooked. If he is dead, then Jesus is no better than the disciples or the teachers of the Law who showed themselves impotent to do anything more than argue with one another rather than risk failure. If he is dead, then there is the risk of ceremonial uncleanness, and I imagine that the teachers of the Law at this point probably moved to the back of the crowd so as not to accidentally risk breaking their own purity laws. And then there is Jesus. The only risk Jesus takes is not waiting to see how the crowd will respond. Jesus reaches out, seemingly a risky move, and takes the boy by the hand, and lifts him up to his feet, and as Luke adds in his gospel, gives him back to his father.
What are we doing here this morning, my friends? – If all we can do at the end of this story is just say how wonderful Jesus is, we miss the point of today’s reading. Let us turn back to the first question: Why is life so full of suffering? I hesitate to give any answer that will sound of hubris, for I know there are many here who are engaged in the act of suffering, and sadly, many are doing so privately and silently. This is not a question to be dealt with lightly or in a trite manner, with either well-meaning intentions, nor petty hallmark card-like sayings. Indeed, the answer I want to offer for your consideration today is less about the origins of suffering, but rather one that contends that it is real, and it is here among us. My answer looks at each of us sitting here, individually, and as a collective. And my answer may be bothersome and uncomfortable, but I think it is honest, and it is the best I can offer you this morning. Why is life so full of suffering? Because on one level, we often find it safer to debate and argue over the causes of suffering, or the methodologies of resolving it, rather than risk ourselves (that is, our own comfort, our own time, our own resources, and maybe even our own lives) by entering into the fray. And the second is like unto the first, as we more often than not see the risk as exposing us to failure and our disbelief over God’s power at work within us, rather than as opportunities to give God room to be glorified in us and through us, for the beneficial comfort and/or healing of the Other. And what might be worse is that we will not admit it; not to others, not to God, and not to ourselves. As long we are talking about it, praying about it, and have money to give toward it, we are dealing with it. But are we? That leads us to deal with the second question.
What does God expect of you and me in light of this suffering? Again, I cannot speak an over-arching meta-answer. But what I will suggest, much to my own discomfort, is that God expects us. Yes, us. Not a particular game plan, though that may be needed. What is God’s expectation? Us. You and me. All of us, who are the body of Christ. I think it is because of our culture’s lust with individuality that we struggle, resist, and choose to be ignorant of belonging to one another, and in recognizing the face of Jesus, the imago dei, in the face of the Other who is suffering. And we do not reach out. We stand before one another indicted by the fact that we are guilty of the sin of omission. I’m not asking you to go up to a person who is suffering and play God. Jesus did what He did because He was God incarnate. But I am saying to you, to myself, that we must believe in the wake-up call that Jesus gave to the father, “Everything is possible for him who believes," and then act on that belief. But rather than be as honest as the father, we ignore or push down our own suffering, we prevent others from knowing of our suffering, or we ignore the suffering of those who inhabit the pews of life. We lean toward denial because we think it easier than risk the pain. I’m not saying that we need to turn worship into one big circus-like episode of Dr. Phil. Most of us already know we need to just stop acting like stupid lemmings running towards the cliffs of life’s bad decisions. Instead, we must call out to Jesus to claim belief, and ask Him to help us overcome our unbelief. This comes from living out of our faith, and not our fears. It means we acknowledge the brokenness of others and ourselves. It means we read that story from Mark 9, and realize that it is a call to pick up where Jesus left off, and continue the story of compassion that Jesus showed the father, his son, and yes, the crowd. It means we are called to risk all for the Other because we are the Other that Jesus risked for. It is His example, and His power, at work in each of us and all of us together. As we engage as Jesus engages, we will risk who we are and become more like Jesus. It will be painful and unpleasant at times, but if we have hope in all that Jesus promises, then we can believe that this journey of compassion will bring us a joy that is hidden on this side of suffering. As we leave here today, I ask you to prayerfully consider what God is calling you to do, and what He is calling us to do, that would bring compassion into this world of suffering. It is a challenge. But I say Amen. And I invite you to do the same.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
A Noble Saint
Okay, I know I've not written in almost two months. Let's just say that it's just where life is right now. Classes are going well, but they are incredibly busy; especially for a Type-A academic personality as myself. But anyhow, I want to share this reflection on a person from my church.
You see, not too long ago, I was reminded of the wonderful grace that God gives us through those noble saints whose personal witness of the presence of God in their own lives is like a gentle reminder for the rest of us. Their witness is in and of itself a proclamation of the reality of God. But it is also much more. It is a living witness to the living God who comes to us and seeks us out. His revelation through Christ is reinforced and reformed through their grace-born fidelity to our Lord. Reinforced in that their words, their actions, and their spirit, though all imperfect, carry within the essence of God (He is truth and love, not as artificial categories, but as the very definitions and realities of those words themselves), and they allow us to experience them afresh, being built up and built together. Reformed in that no one experience, whether it be the same place, same time of day, same day of the week, with the same people, is ever the same, but in that it is the same revealer, that which is being revealed (the revealer Himself), is being expressed in a new and yet familiar manner; one that builds up and builds together.
All of this is to say that when Betsy Noble, a wonderful, older saint in our congregation came over to have lunch and catch up with my wife, she brought with her that sweet aroma of Christ that bears witness to her desire to witness to him in thought, word, and deed. Not as some theological construct (as I am guilty of “writing” above) mind you, but as her own personal way of living out her faith, her way of being a living revelation of God’s love in Jesus Christ. This noble saint was a real blessing to us. Kind words that sought to encourage, build up, and empower us to continue our own faithfulness as living witnesses were her primary ministrations to us. And yet, she also incidentally found a way to add to her kindness and blessedness by asking to take care of something so mundane as getting my bible recovered, and paying for it. What does this mean? What should it mean? Simply put, God’s grace is from God, something only He can give, and when He does, it is a sharing of Himself. When His saints give grace, they give from what God has given them, and in a sense, they are sharing from themselves.
I write this not because I feel the need to come up with some artificial explanation, or some “impressive” theological explanation (though I do want to understand who God is, and how I can appropriate His presence in my life). Really, I write this story and these thoughts because I want Betsy Noble, a noble saint, to be known by you so that you, too, may be encouraged to live out Christ faithfully as she herself strives to every day. And I don’t want to forget, either.
You see, not too long ago, I was reminded of the wonderful grace that God gives us through those noble saints whose personal witness of the presence of God in their own lives is like a gentle reminder for the rest of us. Their witness is in and of itself a proclamation of the reality of God. But it is also much more. It is a living witness to the living God who comes to us and seeks us out. His revelation through Christ is reinforced and reformed through their grace-born fidelity to our Lord. Reinforced in that their words, their actions, and their spirit, though all imperfect, carry within the essence of God (He is truth and love, not as artificial categories, but as the very definitions and realities of those words themselves), and they allow us to experience them afresh, being built up and built together. Reformed in that no one experience, whether it be the same place, same time of day, same day of the week, with the same people, is ever the same, but in that it is the same revealer, that which is being revealed (the revealer Himself), is being expressed in a new and yet familiar manner; one that builds up and builds together.
All of this is to say that when Betsy Noble, a wonderful, older saint in our congregation came over to have lunch and catch up with my wife, she brought with her that sweet aroma of Christ that bears witness to her desire to witness to him in thought, word, and deed. Not as some theological construct (as I am guilty of “writing” above) mind you, but as her own personal way of living out her faith, her way of being a living revelation of God’s love in Jesus Christ. This noble saint was a real blessing to us. Kind words that sought to encourage, build up, and empower us to continue our own faithfulness as living witnesses were her primary ministrations to us. And yet, she also incidentally found a way to add to her kindness and blessedness by asking to take care of something so mundane as getting my bible recovered, and paying for it. What does this mean? What should it mean? Simply put, God’s grace is from God, something only He can give, and when He does, it is a sharing of Himself. When His saints give grace, they give from what God has given them, and in a sense, they are sharing from themselves.
I write this not because I feel the need to come up with some artificial explanation, or some “impressive” theological explanation (though I do want to understand who God is, and how I can appropriate His presence in my life). Really, I write this story and these thoughts because I want Betsy Noble, a noble saint, to be known by you so that you, too, may be encouraged to live out Christ faithfully as she herself strives to every day. And I don’t want to forget, either.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Christianity: Personal, but not Individualistic
Two of my classes this semester are The Church as a Community of Compassion and Non-Western Church History, and they have been quite interesting to say the least. They have only fueled my desire to understand more deeply the mystery that is the Church. I want to point out that I find the use of the word Community to be of a different sort than a typical modernist example. Essentially, we're NOT talking about a community as just a group of people who live on the same street, or live in the same retirement center, or attend the same school. These are external points of community, and while they might be part of what makes a true community, in and of themselves, they do not define a group of people as a real community.
A community, a true community, might be more along the lines of what Catholic missionary Vincent Donovan discovered as he sought to evangelize the Masai peoples in East Africa. Donovan found that in seeking to evangelize what as then a completely pagan people, he needed to evangelize the entire community, not merely reach certain individuals. That is to say, in reaching out to the entire community, he was forced to recognize that a community was formed by people who shared life together, share values (moral, familial, and religious/spiritual), and who work together for the common good of all involved. In his presentation of the gospel, he both presented and learned that Christianity is entirely personal (it had meaning for each member of the community as they discovered their place as part of that local body), but that it is not individualistic (the meaning for each member only had significance as part of that community, and was not meant to enhance that person in a selfish manner at the exclusion of the community).
We in the West [in the U.S., more specifically] have confused these terms, turning them into synonyms rather than recognizing that one brings life and freedom while the other leads to heresy and narssicism. We have created a god in our own image - a sin that is well illustrated throughout the Old Testament - and we disdain any who would challenge it. We have sought to tame God, and put Him in a cage that only we can open, and open only at times that we believe are to our own personal advantage. We wonder why the Church in the West is in such crisis? I submit it is that we have confused the gift of Christ as for ourselves, rather than for the blessing of those currently in the community, and especially for sharing that blessing with those who are yet to be called into the community - that community is the Church.
May God have mercy on us, and heal our heretical practices of individualism over above the community. God is personal, and He cares about each of His children. But Jesus died on the cross to draw the nations to Him. May we understand and joyfully seize this vision of the Kingdom, and seek to share our personal faith with all the peoples.
A community, a true community, might be more along the lines of what Catholic missionary Vincent Donovan discovered as he sought to evangelize the Masai peoples in East Africa. Donovan found that in seeking to evangelize what as then a completely pagan people, he needed to evangelize the entire community, not merely reach certain individuals. That is to say, in reaching out to the entire community, he was forced to recognize that a community was formed by people who shared life together, share values (moral, familial, and religious/spiritual), and who work together for the common good of all involved. In his presentation of the gospel, he both presented and learned that Christianity is entirely personal (it had meaning for each member of the community as they discovered their place as part of that local body), but that it is not individualistic (the meaning for each member only had significance as part of that community, and was not meant to enhance that person in a selfish manner at the exclusion of the community).
We in the West [in the U.S., more specifically] have confused these terms, turning them into synonyms rather than recognizing that one brings life and freedom while the other leads to heresy and narssicism. We have created a god in our own image - a sin that is well illustrated throughout the Old Testament - and we disdain any who would challenge it. We have sought to tame God, and put Him in a cage that only we can open, and open only at times that we believe are to our own personal advantage. We wonder why the Church in the West is in such crisis? I submit it is that we have confused the gift of Christ as for ourselves, rather than for the blessing of those currently in the community, and especially for sharing that blessing with those who are yet to be called into the community - that community is the Church.
May God have mercy on us, and heal our heretical practices of individualism over above the community. God is personal, and He cares about each of His children. But Jesus died on the cross to draw the nations to Him. May we understand and joyfully seize this vision of the Kingdom, and seek to share our personal faith with all the peoples.
Monday, September 18, 2006
oh the Irony
my friend Mike and I were hanging out, and the issue of the Pope's comments concerning medieval Islam as being "evil" and "violent" came up.
Has anyone noticed the irony what with the angry and violent protestations put forth by Muslim mobs???
what do you think?
Has anyone noticed the irony what with the angry and violent protestations put forth by Muslim mobs???
what do you think?
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Compassion
how do you define 'Compassion'?
do you live it out?
is it 'Compassion' if you're not living it out?
what do you think?
do you live it out?
is it 'Compassion' if you're not living it out?
what do you think?
Monday, September 11, 2006
9/11 thoughts
Here's my disclaimer: I honestly can't believe I'm writing on 9/11. I know it's probably the biggest national trauma since Pearl Harbor, but I personally would like to move on - not in a way that makes light of people's hurts and fears - but in a way that allows us to grow and be healed without having to rip off the emotional scab every year on this date. Okay, I said it. Now I have to show myself a hypocrite and add to all the rememberances and eulogies...
The reason I'm ultimately writing this entry is probably more due to unresolved angst and sadness over what happened five years ago then anything else. It was in my drive to seminary this morning, while listening to KWY that I heard the broadcast of the 9/11 ceremony from the WTC site, as well as KYW's regular updates about the 9/11 timeline (what was happening at what time five years ago today). There was the reading of names of those who died, the poem read by one 9/11 widow, and just wrestling with my own powerlessness as I turned on the TV that morning, becoming aware of what was going on.
Five years ago today, my wife took our oldest daughter to her first day of preschool for parent/child orientation only to be escorted home because she was feeling so feverish that she practically passed out. I was at home watching our youngest daughter and our newborn son when a teacher from the school brought them to the door. In trying to help my wife onto the sofa and keep our daughters preoccupied, I told the oldest to turn on the TV. It was then that I saw my first images of what had happened.
It was surreal. All I saw was a lone skyscraper surrounded by rising clouds of smoke. My wife and I were perplexed at what we were viewing. I remember saying that this looked like the WTC, but where was the other tower? It was then that we realized it was the WTC and something absolutely incredible had just happened. I immediately sent the girls up to our attic and turned on the TV to PBS, glad to find that they were continuing their children's programming (what a brilliant and good decision on the part of those producers - I thank God for their decision to not get caught up in the newsmedia frenzy!). Not long after, my wife and I sat in horror as we witnessed the second tower collapse.
This is what I really wanted to "talk" about. Again, another disclaimer: what I'm about to share is stupid, immature, and I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit it in a "public" forum, but here goes... As I watched what was going on, I wished I were Superman. I really thought that. I really wanted to be Superman. I was in tears wishing I could have run out the back door of our house, pull off my t-shirt to reveal the big 'S' on my costume, and fly north-east to Manhattan and stop this madness. I remember the replays the media showed of the planes slamming into each of the towers and just gasping. I remember hearing about (thank God the media thought first for once of not replaying the film over and over) people jumping in desperation from the higher floors to avoid being burned in the fires. My eyes were tear-filled, and all I could do was gasp. I felt so powerless. And I felt like I should have been able to do something. I actually felt guilty for not being able to do something. Isn't that strange?
As I listened to the radio this morning, I found myself still wishing I could have made a difference; wishing I could've taken to the sky and sped up to NYC faster than a locamotive. I still feel deeply saddened. And I wonder, still, God, why did you let this happen?
Was it a wake up call, that America needed to take you seriously? Was it punishment, as people like Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson would have us believe, for allowing the sins of abortion and homosexuality to be public policy? Was it because you've hardened the hearts of people like Osama bin Laden? Or was it none of these things or all of them? And yet, Lord, you did let this event happen. And ultimately, we will not know the 'why's, but we can have compassion on those effected. And that is why I'm writing this down today. I pray God's grace and mercy, His loving kindness, and His healing touch for those, the few and the many, whose lives and understanding of the world is forever changed. May God have mercy on us all. That is why I write today. In Jesus' name.
The reason I'm ultimately writing this entry is probably more due to unresolved angst and sadness over what happened five years ago then anything else. It was in my drive to seminary this morning, while listening to KWY that I heard the broadcast of the 9/11 ceremony from the WTC site, as well as KYW's regular updates about the 9/11 timeline (what was happening at what time five years ago today). There was the reading of names of those who died, the poem read by one 9/11 widow, and just wrestling with my own powerlessness as I turned on the TV that morning, becoming aware of what was going on.
Five years ago today, my wife took our oldest daughter to her first day of preschool for parent/child orientation only to be escorted home because she was feeling so feverish that she practically passed out. I was at home watching our youngest daughter and our newborn son when a teacher from the school brought them to the door. In trying to help my wife onto the sofa and keep our daughters preoccupied, I told the oldest to turn on the TV. It was then that I saw my first images of what had happened.
It was surreal. All I saw was a lone skyscraper surrounded by rising clouds of smoke. My wife and I were perplexed at what we were viewing. I remember saying that this looked like the WTC, but where was the other tower? It was then that we realized it was the WTC and something absolutely incredible had just happened. I immediately sent the girls up to our attic and turned on the TV to PBS, glad to find that they were continuing their children's programming (what a brilliant and good decision on the part of those producers - I thank God for their decision to not get caught up in the newsmedia frenzy!). Not long after, my wife and I sat in horror as we witnessed the second tower collapse.
This is what I really wanted to "talk" about. Again, another disclaimer: what I'm about to share is stupid, immature, and I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit it in a "public" forum, but here goes... As I watched what was going on, I wished I were Superman. I really thought that. I really wanted to be Superman. I was in tears wishing I could have run out the back door of our house, pull off my t-shirt to reveal the big 'S' on my costume, and fly north-east to Manhattan and stop this madness. I remember the replays the media showed of the planes slamming into each of the towers and just gasping. I remember hearing about (thank God the media thought first for once of not replaying the film over and over) people jumping in desperation from the higher floors to avoid being burned in the fires. My eyes were tear-filled, and all I could do was gasp. I felt so powerless. And I felt like I should have been able to do something. I actually felt guilty for not being able to do something. Isn't that strange?
As I listened to the radio this morning, I found myself still wishing I could have made a difference; wishing I could've taken to the sky and sped up to NYC faster than a locamotive. I still feel deeply saddened. And I wonder, still, God, why did you let this happen?
Was it a wake up call, that America needed to take you seriously? Was it punishment, as people like Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson would have us believe, for allowing the sins of abortion and homosexuality to be public policy? Was it because you've hardened the hearts of people like Osama bin Laden? Or was it none of these things or all of them? And yet, Lord, you did let this event happen. And ultimately, we will not know the 'why's, but we can have compassion on those effected. And that is why I'm writing this down today. I pray God's grace and mercy, His loving kindness, and His healing touch for those, the few and the many, whose lives and understanding of the world is forever changed. May God have mercy on us all. That is why I write today. In Jesus' name.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Christian Ethics versus Pagan Pragmatism
Yesterday [September 6], President Geo. Bush admitted to the public that the CIA has been "detaining" approximately 16 Al-Quida members in prisons outside of the U.S. for quite some time. In his own words, the President said that none of these men were merely picked up on the fields of battle or were non-combatants, but were in fact bomb makers, attack planners, etc. involved in the 9/11 attack, the attacks on American embassies in Africa, as well as the attack on the U.S.S. Cole. They have now been moved to Guantanamo Bay, the only U.S. base on Cuban soil for further interrogation.
I am neither an expert policy maker, nor an expert theologian. That's my caveat going into what I think is key as a Christian struggling (yes, struggling) to apply both my sense of maintaining national security and maintaining Christ as the frame for my entire world view. Not too many would argue that a nation-state has both a right and a responsibility to maintain its national security, and therefore, providing for the safety and security of its citizenry. Even the Apostle Paul writes in Romans 13 that...
If Paul can write these words during the rule of Emperor Nero (granted at this point, according to Craig Keener, Nero hadn't yet begun his persecution of Christians), then they certainly apply under the presidency of Geo. Bush, himself a professed follower of Christ. All of that's to say that the President (along with the Congress and the Supreme Court) has a God-given authority and responsibility to govern the country and punish the wrong-doers (in this case, Al-Quida).
Yet there is a specific problem I find with this particular course of actions. A few years ago, I was sent a political journal article via email that spoke to a growing influence of what the author referred to as the pagan pragmatism of neo-conservatives like then Asst. Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz. The article spoke to how [Dept. of Defense] policies were being shaped more according to a pagan warrior ethos rather than the Judeo-Christian ethos, and in point of fact, how disconcerting this really was. In my opinion, this has always been the case in some way, shape, or form. But this author's point should be well taken, for this sort of pragmatism is "wonderfully" illustrated for us in much of the way the war in Iraq started, and our policies regarding the maintainance of this war, vis a vi the interrogation of prisoners, among other things. While I cannot claim to be one who is completely against war - I do believe in Just War theory; just not to the point of ease that many of our leaders and their supporters have used it to justify their policies - I think that upon its necessity, war's prosecution must be carefully and wisely monitered. Interestingly, I don't think it's mere coincidence that prior to Paul's words about submitting to authorities, he writes this in Romans 12...
And that is to say that the Love of God and the hatred of evil must frame not only the way we individually live out the Gospel and respond to Christ, but also, and as importantly, our understanding of what makes right policy on a national and international level. The context of the 'whos' and the 'whats' that Paul was concerned with were obviously different than the context we find ourselves in as we view today's war in Iraq and its collateral policies. However, there are truths that transcend time, space, and context. The question arises, based on Romans 12:21, have we resorted to overcoming evil with evil, rather than overcoming evil with good? I would submit that we have compromised.
I'm drawn to the last court scene from 'A Few Good Men', where Lt. Kaffee (Tom Cruise) has Col. Jessup (Jack Nicholson) on the stand, and gets him to confess to ordering the code red that led to the death of Pvt. Santiago. In that scene, Col. Jessup speaks (with pride) of a pagan warrior pragmatism that illustrates the sort of dichotomy that we find in the prosecution of this war on terror. Behold the words of Col. Jessup to Lt. Kaffee and the court...
Lt. Kaffee demands to know the truth, and Col. Jessup responds with the now famous line, "You can't handle the truth!!!"
In many ways, I think that many American Christians are like the people Col. Jessup generalizes in his testimony. We "don't want the truth because deep down in places [we] don't talk about at parties, [we] want [people like Jessup] on that wall, [we] need [him] on that wall." In essence, we can't handle the truth regarding how much of our national security is maintained.
I'm all for national security; and I don't think that's a "pragmatic" cop-out. But opting for a dichotomy that allows us to praise God on Sundays, read the pages of scripture any day we want, and just plain ole try to be faithful disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ on one hand, and to turn a blind eye to possible injustices carried out by our own government or military on the other is not consistent with who God has gathered us to be as His Church. In short, we have given in to the very pagan pragmatism our faith goes against. We have soiled our Christian ethic. I do not claim to have easy answers, but I do leave you with the thought that any policies, personal or national, that are derived from an ethic that is rooted in something other than God and His Word, should be nothing less than unacceptable to those who claim Jesus as Lord. Naive? Perhaps. I don't claim to be an "expert". But I do claim to be a follower of Christ, and I trust in Him to safe-guard me and my family. And my nation.
What do you think?
I am neither an expert policy maker, nor an expert theologian. That's my caveat going into what I think is key as a Christian struggling (yes, struggling) to apply both my sense of maintaining national security and maintaining Christ as the frame for my entire world view. Not too many would argue that a nation-state has both a right and a responsibility to maintain its national security, and therefore, providing for the safety and security of its citizenry. Even the Apostle Paul writes in Romans 13 that...
1Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God. 2Consequently, he who rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves. 3For rulers hold no terror for those who do right, but for those who do wrong. Do you want to be free from fear of the one in authority? Then do what is right and he will commend you. 4For he is God's servant to do you good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword for nothing. He is God's servant, an agent of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer. 5Therefore, it is necessary to submit to the authorities, not only because of possible punishment but also because of conscience. 6This is also why you pay taxes, for the authorities are God's servants, who give their full time to governing. 7Give everyone what you owe him: If you owe taxes, pay taxes; if revenue, then revenue; if respect, then respect; if honor, then honor. (NIV)
If Paul can write these words during the rule of Emperor Nero (granted at this point, according to Craig Keener, Nero hadn't yet begun his persecution of Christians), then they certainly apply under the presidency of Geo. Bush, himself a professed follower of Christ. All of that's to say that the President (along with the Congress and the Supreme Court) has a God-given authority and responsibility to govern the country and punish the wrong-doers (in this case, Al-Quida).
Yet there is a specific problem I find with this particular course of actions. A few years ago, I was sent a political journal article via email that spoke to a growing influence of what the author referred to as the pagan pragmatism of neo-conservatives like then Asst. Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz. The article spoke to how [Dept. of Defense] policies were being shaped more according to a pagan warrior ethos rather than the Judeo-Christian ethos, and in point of fact, how disconcerting this really was. In my opinion, this has always been the case in some way, shape, or form. But this author's point should be well taken, for this sort of pragmatism is "wonderfully" illustrated for us in much of the way the war in Iraq started, and our policies regarding the maintainance of this war, vis a vi the interrogation of prisoners, among other things. While I cannot claim to be one who is completely against war - I do believe in Just War theory; just not to the point of ease that many of our leaders and their supporters have used it to justify their policies - I think that upon its necessity, war's prosecution must be carefully and wisely monitered. Interestingly, I don't think it's mere coincidence that prior to Paul's words about submitting to authorities, he writes this in Romans 12...
9Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. 10Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. 11Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. 12Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. 13Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality. 14Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. 15Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. 16Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited. 17Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody. 18If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. 19Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: "It is mine to avenge; I will repay," says the Lord. 20On the contrary: "If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head." 21Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.(NIV)
And that is to say that the Love of God and the hatred of evil must frame not only the way we individually live out the Gospel and respond to Christ, but also, and as importantly, our understanding of what makes right policy on a national and international level. The context of the 'whos' and the 'whats' that Paul was concerned with were obviously different than the context we find ourselves in as we view today's war in Iraq and its collateral policies. However, there are truths that transcend time, space, and context. The question arises, based on Romans 12:21, have we resorted to overcoming evil with evil, rather than overcoming evil with good? I would submit that we have compromised.
I'm drawn to the last court scene from 'A Few Good Men', where Lt. Kaffee (Tom Cruise) has Col. Jessup (Jack Nicholson) on the stand, and gets him to confess to ordering the code red that led to the death of Pvt. Santiago. In that scene, Col. Jessup speaks (with pride) of a pagan warrior pragmatism that illustrates the sort of dichotomy that we find in the prosecution of this war on terror. Behold the words of Col. Jessup to Lt. Kaffee and the court...
Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Whose gonna do it? You? You, Lt. Weinburg? I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago, and you curse the marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That Santiago's death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall. We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said thank you, and went on your way, Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon, and stand a post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to.
Lt. Kaffee demands to know the truth, and Col. Jessup responds with the now famous line, "You can't handle the truth!!!"
In many ways, I think that many American Christians are like the people Col. Jessup generalizes in his testimony. We "don't want the truth because deep down in places [we] don't talk about at parties, [we] want [people like Jessup] on that wall, [we] need [him] on that wall." In essence, we can't handle the truth regarding how much of our national security is maintained.
I'm all for national security; and I don't think that's a "pragmatic" cop-out. But opting for a dichotomy that allows us to praise God on Sundays, read the pages of scripture any day we want, and just plain ole try to be faithful disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ on one hand, and to turn a blind eye to possible injustices carried out by our own government or military on the other is not consistent with who God has gathered us to be as His Church. In short, we have given in to the very pagan pragmatism our faith goes against. We have soiled our Christian ethic. I do not claim to have easy answers, but I do leave you with the thought that any policies, personal or national, that are derived from an ethic that is rooted in something other than God and His Word, should be nothing less than unacceptable to those who claim Jesus as Lord. Naive? Perhaps. I don't claim to be an "expert". But I do claim to be a follower of Christ, and I trust in Him to safe-guard me and my family. And my nation.
What do you think?
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Confession
I was sitting in class today, and the idea of confession struck me. Not a mere concept, but the actual need for confession in my own life. Interestingly enough, I had read on the web earlier today of a church that has somesort of web-based confessional. This has apparently been widely utilized by a great many people. Perhaps that was the seed for my later thoughts.
In any event, I've been feeling somewhat distant from the Lord lately - someone say, guess who moved? - and I've just been feeling kind of empty, almost spiritually lethargic of late. Some of that may be tied to some stuff that I've had going on that I've been working through. However, I believe much of it to be a combination of demonic attack/spiritual warfare and my age old struggles with my own sinful nature (i.e., the sins of the flesh). Starting this new season of full time seminary studies is a prime time for the devil to afflict and inflict me with temptations and attacks. At the same time, I know myself well enough to know that at times of stress (yes, I feel a whee bit stressed these days), my own sinful nature asserts its own selfishness.
The need for confession is a generally a regular part of most main stream or Main Line Protestant orders of worship. It is a part of worship that prepares those worshiping to confess their sin(s) in order to receive pardon, and be reconciled with God and with one-another. Personally, I enjoy the prayer of confession from the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer. Please feel free to join me:
My hope is not that God would give me the will-power not to commit these sins anylonger, but rather that He would continue to transform me to be more like His Son, Jesus Christ. To be filled with the fruit of the Spirit is to be transformed into the very character of Christ Himself. This, too, is my prayer. I have sinned against the Lord in thought, word, and deed. I have sinned by what I have done, and by what I have left undone. I have not loved God with my whole heart, nor loved my neighbors as I love myself. I am truly sorry, and humbly repent. I believe that God's grace is so great that He will, for the sake of His own Son, Jesus, have mercy on me and forgive me. And I will delight in His will, and walk in His ways, to the glory of His name. Amen.
Do you need to confess to the Almighty God who created you and loves you?
In any event, I've been feeling somewhat distant from the Lord lately - someone say, guess who moved? - and I've just been feeling kind of empty, almost spiritually lethargic of late. Some of that may be tied to some stuff that I've had going on that I've been working through. However, I believe much of it to be a combination of demonic attack/spiritual warfare and my age old struggles with my own sinful nature (i.e., the sins of the flesh). Starting this new season of full time seminary studies is a prime time for the devil to afflict and inflict me with temptations and attacks. At the same time, I know myself well enough to know that at times of stress (yes, I feel a whee bit stressed these days), my own sinful nature asserts its own selfishness.
The need for confession is a generally a regular part of most main stream or Main Line Protestant orders of worship. It is a part of worship that prepares those worshiping to confess their sin(s) in order to receive pardon, and be reconciled with God and with one-another. Personally, I enjoy the prayer of confession from the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer. Please feel free to join me:
Most merciful God,we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed,by what we have done,and by what we have left undone.We have not loved you with our whole heart;we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.We are truly sorry and we humbly repent. For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ,have mercy on us and forgive us;that we may delight in your will,and walk in your ways,to the glory of your Name. Amen.
My hope is not that God would give me the will-power not to commit these sins anylonger, but rather that He would continue to transform me to be more like His Son, Jesus Christ. To be filled with the fruit of the Spirit is to be transformed into the very character of Christ Himself. This, too, is my prayer. I have sinned against the Lord in thought, word, and deed. I have sinned by what I have done, and by what I have left undone. I have not loved God with my whole heart, nor loved my neighbors as I love myself. I am truly sorry, and humbly repent. I believe that God's grace is so great that He will, for the sake of His own Son, Jesus, have mercy on me and forgive me. And I will delight in His will, and walk in His ways, to the glory of His name. Amen.
Do you need to confess to the Almighty God who created you and loves you?
a quick note from class
okay, class starts in less than ten minutes, but my esteemed professor hasn't arrived yet. So I'm sitting here, killing time, trying to figure out something significant, important, or just witty to write about, but the truth is that I don't really have anything to put down except this...
I'm excited about this class because of the professor. I've had Adelekan twice before for both Systematic Theology 1 & 2. He's sharp, insightful, and has quite the gift of encouragement. I'm hoping to learn more from this godly man, and hope that I will learn as much in here as I did in my last two classes with him.
In any event, this is my short note from class. Hope that wherever you are, whatever you're doing, you're doing well. God's best blessings to you!
I'm excited about this class because of the professor. I've had Adelekan twice before for both Systematic Theology 1 & 2. He's sharp, insightful, and has quite the gift of encouragement. I'm hoping to learn more from this godly man, and hope that I will learn as much in here as I did in my last two classes with him.
In any event, this is my short note from class. Hope that wherever you are, whatever you're doing, you're doing well. God's best blessings to you!
Monday, September 04, 2006
Non-Laborious Day
Today was a most un-laborious labor day, spent just hanging out with my extended family for a regular get-together. Lots of eating - hamburgers, hotdogs, baked beans, several salads, chips, and key lime pie, ice cream of different flavors, and pound cake. We talked about school, vacations, as well as the mundane things that happened in each of our lives over this Summer. The kids played, running about here and there, playing kickball, throwing footballs, and even some short-lived swimming. And then it was over. And we came home.
Kind of a funny thing, calling it Labor Day. Meant to be a celebration for the labor movement, it has really come to mean an end to Summer vacation. And today is just that. It's a mere few hours of "freedom" left before the new school year begins for our family. Though Labor Day means taking a break, tomorrow will be the true start of labor.
Well, here's to the end of a most non-Laborious Day!
Kind of a funny thing, calling it Labor Day. Meant to be a celebration for the labor movement, it has really come to mean an end to Summer vacation. And today is just that. It's a mere few hours of "freedom" left before the new school year begins for our family. Though Labor Day means taking a break, tomorrow will be the true start of labor.
Well, here's to the end of a most non-Laborious Day!
Friday, September 01, 2006
intro to U.S. Latin@ theologies
Met earlier this afternoon with my newest professor for an independent study on an introduction to U.S. Latina/o theologies. It's me and one other fellow meeting with the professora to be introduced to a variety of Latina and Latino theological voices. What it all entails, I'm not quite sure. But it's exposure to a new and different voice at the theological table, and that's important. One rather provincial person quizically noted to me, "why would you want to take that?" The answer is relatively simple: I want to be a theologian [actually we all are; most of us are just sloppily irresponsible about it], and a good theologian (I think) tries to see and/or listen to everyone who is seated at the table of the kingdom.
All that's to say that it's going to be a lot of work - the professora is no push over - but I think it will also be good and stimulating - she has a pleasant personality.
So, once more unto the breach...
All that's to say that it's going to be a lot of work - the professora is no push over - but I think it will also be good and stimulating - she has a pleasant personality.
So, once more unto the breach...
Thursday, August 31, 2006
the Mall and Depression
I just got back from a trip to a local mall. It just so happens my mom works at a store in said mall, so the main point of my venture was to take my three kinderin for lunch with their grandmother before school starts (school doesn't start in our area until after Labor Day). All that's to say that we went and had lunch at the mall. Since we were going to said mall, my wife asked me to take some time after lunch to go and look for nice back-to-school outfits for all three, plus a new pair of mocs for one of our kids.
All in all, mission accomplished; sort of. Was able to find a nice shirt and pants for the son. Wasn't able to find any outfits for the girls that we could agree on, but told them we'd find them something at another time. Was able to get both of them new sneakers/mocs, which they seemed pleased with.
Yet, as we left, I found myself feeling really down, feeling almost unsettled. As I drove home I realized that it was a strong sense of materialism that had been set off. And I didn't like it; it made me upset that I was feeling such a strong need to want to go out and buy clothes and stuff I totally didn't need. After getting home, I called my wife to let her know what we did and what we didn't get. I also relayed to her my feelings. She framed my feelings well. Her wisdom was this: "you've been subjected to 37 plus years of extreme marketing which has only been reinforced by a very materialistic mother. You're a red-blooded American living in a materialistic American culture."
I am in complete agreement with her. But I still feel down about the whole thing. Ultimately, these feelings speak to something deeper, something more organic to my very core. The feelings speak to that God-shaped hole in my heart that Augustine spoke about. My feelings today were so strong because I think that God-shaped hole has not been filled with God. The lack of contentment, I believe, comes from not spending enough time with the One who created me. With that relationship needing time and energy, it's caused an imbalance that the old, sinful man-me wants to try and fill with material.
Only God can fill that God-shaped hole. Only God can satisfy. Only the One who created each and every one of us knows what will ful-fill our souls - and the answer is...envelope please... God Himself!!! So rather than go and watch TV or spend much more time blogging/online/sending email, I'm going to go and excercise and spend time talking with God about that hole that needs to be filled by HIM who lasts forever.
How about you?
All in all, mission accomplished; sort of. Was able to find a nice shirt and pants for the son. Wasn't able to find any outfits for the girls that we could agree on, but told them we'd find them something at another time. Was able to get both of them new sneakers/mocs, which they seemed pleased with.
Yet, as we left, I found myself feeling really down, feeling almost unsettled. As I drove home I realized that it was a strong sense of materialism that had been set off. And I didn't like it; it made me upset that I was feeling such a strong need to want to go out and buy clothes and stuff I totally didn't need. After getting home, I called my wife to let her know what we did and what we didn't get. I also relayed to her my feelings. She framed my feelings well. Her wisdom was this: "you've been subjected to 37 plus years of extreme marketing which has only been reinforced by a very materialistic mother. You're a red-blooded American living in a materialistic American culture."
I am in complete agreement with her. But I still feel down about the whole thing. Ultimately, these feelings speak to something deeper, something more organic to my very core. The feelings speak to that God-shaped hole in my heart that Augustine spoke about. My feelings today were so strong because I think that God-shaped hole has not been filled with God. The lack of contentment, I believe, comes from not spending enough time with the One who created me. With that relationship needing time and energy, it's caused an imbalance that the old, sinful man-me wants to try and fill with material.
Only God can fill that God-shaped hole. Only God can satisfy. Only the One who created each and every one of us knows what will ful-fill our souls - and the answer is...envelope please... God Himself!!! So rather than go and watch TV or spend much more time blogging/online/sending email, I'm going to go and excercise and spend time talking with God about that hole that needs to be filled by HIM who lasts forever.
How about you?
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
more thoughts about God and keeping up with friends
Got back late Sunday night from a whirl-wind trip to San Diego, CA (my first time there) for a friend's wedding. While there, I was able to re-connect with several "old" friends for the first time in years. It was a real blessing to be present, to be a witness of the newly wedded couple's nuptual's. I was really encouraged in seeing where a number of these friends are in their relationship with God. One of the things I found consistent among those who were Christians was the reality of God's faithfulness to each and every one of them. In listening to their stories and hearing about their lives, it was easy to see God's hand at work in each of their lives. I found it personally encouraging to my own faith journey as they shared what God had been doing in each of their lives. It reminded me of the many things that He has done/ is doing in my life and the life of my family. This is just one of the great and important things that friendships serve - reflecting back to us God's glory that is at work within us as we surrender to Him and walk with Him. Though we're all no longer a part of the same faith community, we do share in being a part of the larger community of the big "C" Church, and therefore, we will always be a part of the same community of faith, the Church. It is encouraging to know that we are connected to one another by God, through God, for God. And I praise HIM for these old friends.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
God and keeping up with friends
So last night gave me the opportunity to IM with a good friend that I've not seen in quite a while. But he's very good at IMing me whenever he sees me online, and always uses the opportunity to keep up with me.
So this brings up a good point: what does God call us to when we enter into a friendship? And is there a difference between friendships with fellow believers versus non-believers? What does it mean to keep up with your friends? As a Christian, what does it mean to be a friend?
Weigh in with your thoughts...
So this brings up a good point: what does God call us to when we enter into a friendship? And is there a difference between friendships with fellow believers versus non-believers? What does it mean to keep up with your friends? As a Christian, what does it mean to be a friend?
Weigh in with your thoughts...
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Success & Failure in the Kingdom of God
About seven years ago I was on a youth minister's retreat that I have little recollection of other than one topic that was talked about: looking for effectiveness over success. Ever since then, I've been keen on redefining the matrix through which I thought about let alone evaluated how I was doing in ministry. I'm all for accountability, but I think that the Church has adopted worldly standards for deciding what's working and what isn't, and this has knocked us off course at times, and hurt a great many people.
As I read through the Gospels, I find Jesus who almost encourages us against worldly standards of success, "not for the sake of failing, but because there wasn't anything to win in the first place" (to quote Donald Miller). Instead, a great many churches, a great many pastors, and too many youth pastors are caught up the game of constant competition. What is for our culture one of its great strengths has become for the Church a great weakness. We want to win. We want to have the biggest congregations, the best attended Bible studies, the largest youth groups. But for what?
It seems to me that many of us are so enamored by worldly success, that we don't even see it in the Church. Instead, we have allowed it to taint our understanding of body life. We have traded true grace for a cheap imitation that shows its dross anytime someone (or some ministry) doesn't meet "corporate" performance expectations. We have chosen to accept "success" and fearfully look out for "failure" all at the expense of what is by far more important, faithfulness and calling.
To that end, I would submit that because of this, there are many "ministries" that have attracted lots of people, but are not necessarily accomplishing much for the kingdom. Now, I don't have an axe to grind in writing all of this. Instead, I think most Western (e.g., American) churches suffer from this. We need to understand that the economy of the Kingdom operates by different rules. We are to be patient, not afraid of time, investing ourselves in people, both individually and family (or community), trusting God to multiply our ministry and outreach in ways that will far outpace a corporate American solution to the challenges of ministry because we are merely seeking to be faithful and obedient to Him who called us in the first place. In keeping faithfulness and calling at the forefront of evaluating ministry, we allow for God to show us our "successes" and where we are "failing".
The way the world judges such things is always to say that they are looking for a clear winner. This is not God's ways - for in the Kingdom, all of God's people are winners. He's looking for faithful people, not successful.
What do you think?
As I read through the Gospels, I find Jesus who almost encourages us against worldly standards of success, "not for the sake of failing, but because there wasn't anything to win in the first place" (to quote Donald Miller). Instead, a great many churches, a great many pastors, and too many youth pastors are caught up the game of constant competition. What is for our culture one of its great strengths has become for the Church a great weakness. We want to win. We want to have the biggest congregations, the best attended Bible studies, the largest youth groups. But for what?
It seems to me that many of us are so enamored by worldly success, that we don't even see it in the Church. Instead, we have allowed it to taint our understanding of body life. We have traded true grace for a cheap imitation that shows its dross anytime someone (or some ministry) doesn't meet "corporate" performance expectations. We have chosen to accept "success" and fearfully look out for "failure" all at the expense of what is by far more important, faithfulness and calling.
To that end, I would submit that because of this, there are many "ministries" that have attracted lots of people, but are not necessarily accomplishing much for the kingdom. Now, I don't have an axe to grind in writing all of this. Instead, I think most Western (e.g., American) churches suffer from this. We need to understand that the economy of the Kingdom operates by different rules. We are to be patient, not afraid of time, investing ourselves in people, both individually and family (or community), trusting God to multiply our ministry and outreach in ways that will far outpace a corporate American solution to the challenges of ministry because we are merely seeking to be faithful and obedient to Him who called us in the first place. In keeping faithfulness and calling at the forefront of evaluating ministry, we allow for God to show us our "successes" and where we are "failing".
The way the world judges such things is always to say that they are looking for a clear winner. This is not God's ways - for in the Kingdom, all of God's people are winners. He's looking for faithful people, not successful.
What do you think?
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Ch-ch-changes
This Summer has brought about some pretty extensive and impacting changes in my life – almost as big as when I first became a dad for the first time (and the second and the third, for that matter). That David Bowie song seems to be my new theme. Today, August 1st, marked an end and a beginning, as I began my new life apart from working in and for the church. I am no longer David Feiser, youth pastor, director of NPC’s ministry to youth and their families. But I am still David Feiser, husband, dad, follower of Christ, friend, son, brother, cousin, uncle, and witty person (okay, that last one may be up for debate).
I’ve had some mixed feelings about this change. It was almost two months ago that I was encouraged to take this step and follow what many of us considered to be the Lord’s leading (though we weren’t in agreement on His timing). I’ve both looked forward to today, and also dreaded it. What I’ve discovered is that there’s no “right” way to feel about it. Many of my students weren’t happy with the news, and were savvy enough to know that there was more to the story than just what they were told. But they were good sports, very supportive, and I hope they will continue to grow in their faith and not abandon Christ because of self-righteous folk who chose to operate behind the scenes (what does 1 John have to say about people who like darkness? – what???).
So this day came, and here I am, reclining on my living room sofa, my headphones linked to my lap top, listening to the Narnia movie soundtrack, punching out this blog entry, contemplating what God has in store for me. Here’s what I understand (or at least think I do): I’ve got the entire month of August as something of a paid vacation; I’m going to be a full-time student, starting in September; God is leading me and my family on this new road that is part of our journey of faith.
While I’m sad about leaving youth ministry, I’m excited about this new opportunity. I’m excited about what is out there. I’m imagining that there are many more changes coming. I’m not sure I want to know about some of them. I’m hoping that most of them are good, positive, and healthy for all of my family. I’m hoping that my faith in Jesus Christ will meet each of them, good or bad, and be able to use them all to grow me closer to God and closer to the image of Jesus. I’m hoping that through this change – all the changes – that I will become more faithful and faith-filled, trusting God with more and more of my life and family. This being the first day of the rest of my life, I’m not sure what to make of it. The only thing that has changed is my employment. I’m still a Christian. I still have the same friends at church, in my neighborhood, from my social circles, and my family, both immediate and extended. I’m still about 25 lb.s over-weight, a bit out of shape, but ruggedly handsome.
Someone once said, “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” I don’t know how true that is, but overall, as I move into full-time student-hood, most of my life is still the same. My future is as open-ended as ever, I just feel it a bit more acutely than I did a couple of months ago. God is still watching over me, walking with me, and leading me. I am in awe, for in spite of such changes, God is with, unchanging, and I am at peace.
I’ve had some mixed feelings about this change. It was almost two months ago that I was encouraged to take this step and follow what many of us considered to be the Lord’s leading (though we weren’t in agreement on His timing). I’ve both looked forward to today, and also dreaded it. What I’ve discovered is that there’s no “right” way to feel about it. Many of my students weren’t happy with the news, and were savvy enough to know that there was more to the story than just what they were told. But they were good sports, very supportive, and I hope they will continue to grow in their faith and not abandon Christ because of self-righteous folk who chose to operate behind the scenes (what does 1 John have to say about people who like darkness? – what???).
So this day came, and here I am, reclining on my living room sofa, my headphones linked to my lap top, listening to the Narnia movie soundtrack, punching out this blog entry, contemplating what God has in store for me. Here’s what I understand (or at least think I do): I’ve got the entire month of August as something of a paid vacation; I’m going to be a full-time student, starting in September; God is leading me and my family on this new road that is part of our journey of faith.
While I’m sad about leaving youth ministry, I’m excited about this new opportunity. I’m excited about what is out there. I’m imagining that there are many more changes coming. I’m not sure I want to know about some of them. I’m hoping that most of them are good, positive, and healthy for all of my family. I’m hoping that my faith in Jesus Christ will meet each of them, good or bad, and be able to use them all to grow me closer to God and closer to the image of Jesus. I’m hoping that through this change – all the changes – that I will become more faithful and faith-filled, trusting God with more and more of my life and family. This being the first day of the rest of my life, I’m not sure what to make of it. The only thing that has changed is my employment. I’m still a Christian. I still have the same friends at church, in my neighborhood, from my social circles, and my family, both immediate and extended. I’m still about 25 lb.s over-weight, a bit out of shape, but ruggedly handsome.
Someone once said, “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” I don’t know how true that is, but overall, as I move into full-time student-hood, most of my life is still the same. My future is as open-ended as ever, I just feel it a bit more acutely than I did a couple of months ago. God is still watching over me, walking with me, and leading me. I am in awe, for in spite of such changes, God is with, unchanging, and I am at peace.
Friday, June 16, 2006
the surprises of God
I've had the most amazing week of my life, I think. It has been a roller coaster ride of sorts that has taken me from the pits of despair to a summit of peace. And I've probably dipped down and risen back up a few times, too.
This Sunday my congregation is celebrating the completion of my tenth year as youth director by calling me forward at both our Sunday worship gatherings (we label them "services"), and praising God for all that He's done through me. Then my pastor is going to announce that our Session (what we call our board of elders) has discerned and affirmed a call for me to transition out of the youth ministry and into full-time studies at seminary - I've been going part-time for the last four years - so that I may go onto pursue a PhD, and move into a full-time teaching ministry. To say I'm feeling bowled over is an understatement.
The process by which this decision was arrived at excluded me and my wife. The timing in which it was presented and set was not our own. I list these things first not because I have a chip on my shoulder, but because I want to speak honestly. While I believe in the elder's authority to come together and receive such leading from the Holy Spirit, I think there are other factors at work that could be described as well-intentioned people making some faulty assumptions and presumptions as to what is or isn't best for all parties. That, coupled with a rushed process, casts a least a slight palor over what in the end is a glorious changing of the guard.
Because while I'm disappointed with the process and timing, my wife and I are excited and celebrating this news. For one thing, it confirms what she and I have been talking about on and off for the last few years, and in depth over the last few months. We have the peace of God which transcends all understanding. To say I'm surprised is another understatement. Up until a week or so ago, I thought (was hoping) I would be involved at the youth ministry here for at least another year, maybe two or three. I felt like there were still a number of things for me to work on, do, and share with students, families, and fellow youth workers alike.
Yet God knows, doesn't He? Even though (in my opinion) there are some flaws to how this came about, God's perfect plan is being worked out through imperfect human beings, of whom I am one. I hope that anyone reading this will understand how thankful I am to God, and to the men and women who comprise the board of elders of our church. It took a lot of courage for them to strongly, and prayerfully, to consider something so incredible that it actually holds a lot of excitement for a great many of us.
If any of my students read this, please do not take anything that is written as any sort of rejection. Just the opposite. I've valued my last ten years of ministry at this church. My time spent with my students is among the most cherished of possessions. I love my students. To friends who might be reading this, please pray for us. There are a number of things that have to happen. And some of them need to happen soon. But we've seen God move quickly here, and I beleive He will not disappoint us by providing what we need to make this vision a reality.
I thank God for my last ten years in ministry to youth and their families. I praise God for this next opportunity to serve Him and His people. Praise God!!!
This Sunday my congregation is celebrating the completion of my tenth year as youth director by calling me forward at both our Sunday worship gatherings (we label them "services"), and praising God for all that He's done through me. Then my pastor is going to announce that our Session (what we call our board of elders) has discerned and affirmed a call for me to transition out of the youth ministry and into full-time studies at seminary - I've been going part-time for the last four years - so that I may go onto pursue a PhD, and move into a full-time teaching ministry. To say I'm feeling bowled over is an understatement.
The process by which this decision was arrived at excluded me and my wife. The timing in which it was presented and set was not our own. I list these things first not because I have a chip on my shoulder, but because I want to speak honestly. While I believe in the elder's authority to come together and receive such leading from the Holy Spirit, I think there are other factors at work that could be described as well-intentioned people making some faulty assumptions and presumptions as to what is or isn't best for all parties. That, coupled with a rushed process, casts a least a slight palor over what in the end is a glorious changing of the guard.
Because while I'm disappointed with the process and timing, my wife and I are excited and celebrating this news. For one thing, it confirms what she and I have been talking about on and off for the last few years, and in depth over the last few months. We have the peace of God which transcends all understanding. To say I'm surprised is another understatement. Up until a week or so ago, I thought (was hoping) I would be involved at the youth ministry here for at least another year, maybe two or three. I felt like there were still a number of things for me to work on, do, and share with students, families, and fellow youth workers alike.
Yet God knows, doesn't He? Even though (in my opinion) there are some flaws to how this came about, God's perfect plan is being worked out through imperfect human beings, of whom I am one. I hope that anyone reading this will understand how thankful I am to God, and to the men and women who comprise the board of elders of our church. It took a lot of courage for them to strongly, and prayerfully, to consider something so incredible that it actually holds a lot of excitement for a great many of us.
If any of my students read this, please do not take anything that is written as any sort of rejection. Just the opposite. I've valued my last ten years of ministry at this church. My time spent with my students is among the most cherished of possessions. I love my students. To friends who might be reading this, please pray for us. There are a number of things that have to happen. And some of them need to happen soon. But we've seen God move quickly here, and I beleive He will not disappoint us by providing what we need to make this vision a reality.
I thank God for my last ten years in ministry to youth and their families. I praise God for this next opportunity to serve Him and His people. Praise God!!!
Friday, April 07, 2006
a poem for my wife on our 12th anniversary
12 years
Nothing rhymes with 12 years,
Nothing I know of, at least
So I’m trying to think of 12 years,
What has been the best?
As I keep thinking of 12 years,
A number of things come to mind
12 years, 12 years, 12 years,
It’s not that hard to find
One thing over 12 years,
We’ve had a kid or two, or three
Another thing over 12 years,
I’ve done all my moving with thee
A third thing over 12 years,
I’ve learned to smile more
A fourth thing over 12 years,
I really do snore
The fifth thing over 12 years,
We’ve joined two churches
A sixth thing over 12 years,
We’ve lived in four perches
A seventh thing over 12 years,
We’re still learning how to dance
The eighth thing over 12 years,
We’re still learning how to dance
The ninth thing over 12 years,
I like the way you cook,
The tenth thing over 12 years,
We’ve visited places in books
An eleventh thing over 12 years,
I’m gladder I married you,
And twelfth thing over 12 years,
I love you (more than giant, hurtling asteroids that are bigger than all the snickers bars ever consumed, and oceans of milk to make them go down easier, and the band-aids needed if those giant, hurtling asteroids hit earth, and bigger than any blisters we’d get trying to run away from both asteroids hitting earth and all those snickers bars that would probably topple down because of the laws of physics, being gravity, I’m talking about, of course, so my point is that I love you lots and lots and lots and lots and lots…etc. but do not add nausea
Nothing rhymes with 12 years,
Nothing I know of, at least
So I’m trying to think of 12 years,
What has been the best?
As I keep thinking of 12 years,
A number of things come to mind
12 years, 12 years, 12 years,
It’s not that hard to find
One thing over 12 years,
We’ve had a kid or two, or three
Another thing over 12 years,
I’ve done all my moving with thee
A third thing over 12 years,
I’ve learned to smile more
A fourth thing over 12 years,
I really do snore
The fifth thing over 12 years,
We’ve joined two churches
A sixth thing over 12 years,
We’ve lived in four perches
A seventh thing over 12 years,
We’re still learning how to dance
The eighth thing over 12 years,
We’re still learning how to dance
The ninth thing over 12 years,
I like the way you cook,
The tenth thing over 12 years,
We’ve visited places in books
An eleventh thing over 12 years,
I’m gladder I married you,
And twelfth thing over 12 years,
I love you (more than giant, hurtling asteroids that are bigger than all the snickers bars ever consumed, and oceans of milk to make them go down easier, and the band-aids needed if those giant, hurtling asteroids hit earth, and bigger than any blisters we’d get trying to run away from both asteroids hitting earth and all those snickers bars that would probably topple down because of the laws of physics, being gravity, I’m talking about, of course, so my point is that I love you lots and lots and lots and lots and lots…etc. but do not add nausea
Friday, March 03, 2006
being a Disciple means becoming like your Rabbi
I love God-cidences. You know, those situations that come up where something happens followed closely by something else that seems to confirm the first experience? Most people refer to them as coincidences. Because I believe in a sovereign God, one who can exhert His authority to accomplish His will regardless of how blind, deaf, or dumb we are, I believe that I've experienced a God-cidence just this morning.
Via a reply to an earlier post (what is a "disciple"? - posted Friday, October 28, 2005) by a distant friend, Forrest Malloch, I was confronted and encouraged by God. You see, in his reply to the post, Forrest pointed me to a web site that had a recording of Ray Vanderlaan's "On This Rock". This was taken from Ray's video series, "That The World May Know". Ray is a high school teacher in the States, and pretty good Bible scholar. His video series are about His leading tours to the Holy Land, whereby he teaches a mixed (age, gender, ethnicity) audience about Bible stories as close to the authentic site as is possible. Okay, I've set the stage for my God-cidence. Forrest posted an invitation to go this web site, down load this message from Ray, and see what it says about radical discipleship from Ray's message, "On This Rock".
Forrest! What you could not have known when you posted this Wednesday late afternoon, was that Thursday late morning, as part of my Greek Exegesis class, we watched the video that this audio message is connected with. The main crux of the video has Ray speaking to his tour group on a hill side outside of a New Testament era city, Caesarea Phillipi, where there was a pagan religious site dedicated to the Greco-Roman demi-god, Pan, and talks about what being a disciple is based on the message out of the Gospel of Matthew, Matthew 16:13ff. This context was used by Ray to teach on the understanding of being a disciple in the N.T. era Jewish Rabbi/Disicple context. Basically, the idea is that discipleship is not about what you do. More importantly, being a disciple is about wanting to be what your Rabbi is.
The audio message I downloaded and listened to was connected with this video. It was refreshing to listen to this message after seeing the video. It went into a lot of detail, and was very engaging. The bottom line for me, to boil it down, is to say that for us as Christians, we want to be like our Rabbi, Jesus Christ. As Forrest pointed out to me, this has radical implications on little as well as big ways. Are you a Christian? Then you must be a disciple. Are you a disciple? Then you must be seeking to be like Jesus. Are you becoming like Jesus? If not, why not? Who are you being like, if not like Jesus?
Are you becoming like Jesus? This is what being a disciple is about. What are the implications?
Via a reply to an earlier post (what is a "disciple"? - posted Friday, October 28, 2005) by a distant friend, Forrest Malloch, I was confronted and encouraged by God. You see, in his reply to the post, Forrest pointed me to a web site that had a recording of Ray Vanderlaan's "On This Rock". This was taken from Ray's video series, "That The World May Know". Ray is a high school teacher in the States, and pretty good Bible scholar. His video series are about His leading tours to the Holy Land, whereby he teaches a mixed (age, gender, ethnicity) audience about Bible stories as close to the authentic site as is possible. Okay, I've set the stage for my God-cidence. Forrest posted an invitation to go this web site, down load this message from Ray, and see what it says about radical discipleship from Ray's message, "On This Rock".
Forrest! What you could not have known when you posted this Wednesday late afternoon, was that Thursday late morning, as part of my Greek Exegesis class, we watched the video that this audio message is connected with. The main crux of the video has Ray speaking to his tour group on a hill side outside of a New Testament era city, Caesarea Phillipi, where there was a pagan religious site dedicated to the Greco-Roman demi-god, Pan, and talks about what being a disciple is based on the message out of the Gospel of Matthew, Matthew 16:13ff. This context was used by Ray to teach on the understanding of being a disciple in the N.T. era Jewish Rabbi/Disicple context. Basically, the idea is that discipleship is not about what you do. More importantly, being a disciple is about wanting to be what your Rabbi is.
The audio message I downloaded and listened to was connected with this video. It was refreshing to listen to this message after seeing the video. It went into a lot of detail, and was very engaging. The bottom line for me, to boil it down, is to say that for us as Christians, we want to be like our Rabbi, Jesus Christ. As Forrest pointed out to me, this has radical implications on little as well as big ways. Are you a Christian? Then you must be a disciple. Are you a disciple? Then you must be seeking to be like Jesus. Are you becoming like Jesus? If not, why not? Who are you being like, if not like Jesus?
Are you becoming like Jesus? This is what being a disciple is about. What are the implications?
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
what makes serving so hard?
it's been a question of mine for years. it's not like I'm trying to point a finger at any one person; the Lord knows it could easily point back at me. but I'm just wondering why, even as saved and being saved people, redeemed and being redeemed, filled with the Holy Spirit, we, you and me, more often than not, struggle with the idea of serving? one thing I don't believe is something someone once said, or at least I thought I heard, "it's not serving if you enjoy doing it." I don't believe that. at the same time, I don't think whether you enjoy "it" (whatever "it" is) or not matters as to whether or not you do it or not. but why do we find it so hard to serve? it's not like I really enjoyed emptying the sink of dessert plates, utensils, and coffee mugs last night after our small group left our house. but it's not like I felt like I was dying because of it either. I did it because, a) [as my wife often says] it was there and needed to be done, and, b) I didn't want my wife to think I was leaving it there for her to clear out. yet I have to say, my natural inclination is not to serve. maybe I'm way off. maybe this is just my issue. maybe this is the area of the "old" man in me that is awaiting and undergoing sanctification and transformation. I don't know. I just find that sometimes I don't want to serve. what about you? what do you think?
Friday, January 27, 2006
life just happens
there's a part of me that wakes up every day and wonders, "how did I get here?" it's like I'm this person who finds themself in an alternate reality. you see, I'm married to this great woman, we live in a nice house, and we have three good, beautiful kids. and I wonder, "what's up with this?" I look at my three kids (yes, that's them in the pic), and I think, "hey, I'm too young to have kids." but then I realize that I'm not the young kid myself anymore. when did that happen? when did I grow up? the reality is far more strange than the (you might think strange) ponderings in my mind: simply that life happens. you see, while I'm still not sure how I got here, or what's up with this, I do know that behind it all, and actually infront of it and beside it, too, for that matter, is God. and His grace has been and is at work in my life. what a comfort. what an awesome truth. no matter what else is going on; no matter how terrible things get, God is there. you see, one thing I realized a long time ago, is that I never did anything to deserve all the "good", all the "cool", or all the "wonderful" that God has either given me directly, or just allowed me to be blessed with. and that's a comfort, too. there's nothing I have to do to get God's blessings. life is just like that. or more importantly, God is just like that.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
discipleship recovery
how are we supposed to live as a community of disciples when most of the people in the community only seem to be feigning disicpleship?
what pain are they hiding (or hiding from) that they won't give all of who they are?
how can we move forward together, to be the Church that Jesus talks about in John's upper room discourse?
how can we speak into each other's lives prophetically and not be judgmental?
how do we recover discipleship in our day and age?
what pain are they hiding (or hiding from) that they won't give all of who they are?
how can we move forward together, to be the Church that Jesus talks about in John's upper room discourse?
how can we speak into each other's lives prophetically and not be judgmental?
how do we recover discipleship in our day and age?
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