* I've posted 46 blogs in this series because I wrote one on the Sundays in Lent. The Sundays in Lent are not counted in the 40 days. JWN
“When Jesus had received the wine, he said, ‘It is finished.’ Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.” (John 19:30)
The “it” here was not his life. Now, his life was finished, but that is not what Jesus says in these his final words. The “it” here was his work and mission. It—what he came to do was done. Complete. Over.
So, what was that work? There are so many things that we call it: Reconciliation, Redemption, Salvation. Justification. All big, theological words. All important. All full of meaning. Reconciliation—bringing together parties that had been separated. Redemption—lifting up that which was cast down, healing that which was broken, paying the price of a slave who could not pay for himself. Salvation—saving from evil, destruction, danger, death. Justification—making “just,” that is, making things “right” between God and us.
All of that, and more, Jesus accomplished in his death. Amazing that one death could do all that. Amazing that God would give us his Son. Amazing that God loves us that much. Maybe that is why we call it “Amazing Grace.”
Jesus could have walked away at any moment from his mission. He could have just had a regular life. He probably would have made a pretty good carpenter. He might have been a decent enough fisherman. He would have enjoyed being a teacher or even a rabbi. He had so many gifts that he could have shared. But his mission was all-in-all for him. And his mission needs to be all-in-all for us.
His mission is ours. It is not enough to receive all the benefits of his mercy and grace and love. In receiving them He calls us to live them and share them.
For Jesus his mission was finished. In finishing his mission he handed it on to us. As long as we live we are the extensions of his mission to the world. To be a Christian is to be a missionary. Missions are not necessarily in some foreign land. Mission starts here, with us, within us, and then it moves out.
At our end, won’t it be lovely when we can say, “It is finished.” Our part of the Jesus mission is over. And now let us trust in his mercy and love to bring us home to God.
I end these reflections on the cross. Tomorrow is Easter. Be wherever you might worship to celebrate his resurrection. Believe in it. Live it. Practice it. Share it.
I have been pondering. What would resurrection life look like? Maybe that is another series.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Jesus Thirsted - Day 45*
* There will be a total of 46 postings in this series since I posted blogs on Sundays during Lent. Sundays are Feast Days and not "counted" in the 40 days. JWN
"After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfill scripture), ‘I am thirsty.’ A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth.” (John 19: 28-29)
Jesus must have been thirsty. He had not had anything to drink or eat since the night before. He must have been looking for any kind of comfort that could be given to him, maybe even some sour wine. The Romans would keep the sour wine there as a mild sedative. Even they had some mercy. Not much, but some.
Yes, he must have been thirsty; but there is thirst and then there is thirst. He had immediate thirst at this moment for wine or water, but he also had a deeper thirst for God, for us, for God and us. All of that—his mission—is what he had the deeper thirst for. And now, his thirst for bringing us back to God, for forgiving us, for showing us God’s love, for reconciling us with God, had come to its most critical and crucial moment. In order to slack this thirst he had to drink deep of his own sacrifice and death. In order to slack his thirst he had to drink deep of all that separated us from God and he had to take the weight and pain and agony of all that on his back.
So, what are you thirsty for? There are so many things that we can try to slack our thirst, so many “drinks” that we think will satisfy, so many “wells” we try to drain dry. All too often these “drinks” don’t really slack our thirst. All too often they only make us more thirsty.
God made us to be thirsty for God. Jesus came to remind us of that fact. He came calling himself many things, including “Living Water.” He came to reveal that in drinking this water, drinking Him, we will never be thirsty again. When we drink of Him we drink joy and hope and forgiveness and grace and love and purpose. When we drink in of Him we are drinking the Living Water that fills us up, that makes us whole, that makes us streams of life to and for others.
Jesus said, “I thirst.” He thirsted for you, for me, for us. He thirsted to share love. Just like He thirsted for us, maybe we need to consider our thirst for Him. Drink deep. His water is good.
"After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfill scripture), ‘I am thirsty.’ A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth.” (John 19: 28-29)
Jesus must have been thirsty. He had not had anything to drink or eat since the night before. He must have been looking for any kind of comfort that could be given to him, maybe even some sour wine. The Romans would keep the sour wine there as a mild sedative. Even they had some mercy. Not much, but some.
Yes, he must have been thirsty; but there is thirst and then there is thirst. He had immediate thirst at this moment for wine or water, but he also had a deeper thirst for God, for us, for God and us. All of that—his mission—is what he had the deeper thirst for. And now, his thirst for bringing us back to God, for forgiving us, for showing us God’s love, for reconciling us with God, had come to its most critical and crucial moment. In order to slack this thirst he had to drink deep of his own sacrifice and death. In order to slack his thirst he had to drink deep of all that separated us from God and he had to take the weight and pain and agony of all that on his back.
So, what are you thirsty for? There are so many things that we can try to slack our thirst, so many “drinks” that we think will satisfy, so many “wells” we try to drain dry. All too often these “drinks” don’t really slack our thirst. All too often they only make us more thirsty.
God made us to be thirsty for God. Jesus came to remind us of that fact. He came calling himself many things, including “Living Water.” He came to reveal that in drinking this water, drinking Him, we will never be thirsty again. When we drink of Him we drink joy and hope and forgiveness and grace and love and purpose. When we drink in of Him we are drinking the Living Water that fills us up, that makes us whole, that makes us streams of life to and for others.
Jesus said, “I thirst.” He thirsted for you, for me, for us. He thirsted to share love. Just like He thirsted for us, maybe we need to consider our thirst for Him. Drink deep. His water is good.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Jesus Makes New Family - Day 44*
* There will be a total of 46 blogs since I've posted blogs on Sundays. Sundays are not included in the 40 days of Lent. JWN
When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, here is your son.’ Then he said to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother.’ And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.” (John 19: 26-27)
Here Jesus is at the point of death. He has been hanging on the cross for several hours. He has been beaten and a spear has pierced his side and he is running out of oxygen. Every time he pulls his body up for another breath he tears into the flesh of his feet and hands. It is an excruciating way to die.
And yet, even with all of this pain, even with his own doubts and struggles, he sees the pain of his mother and the pain of one of his friends. He turns away from his pain and sees theirs.
I find that simply remarkable. But then I shouldn’t. He came to see our pain, our lostness, our brokenness, our frail and flawed humanity. He came to see all of that and to heal all of that. He came to connect us to God, to each other, and to our best and truest selves.
Which is what he does here at almost his last moment alive. He does an adoption process. Mother, here is your new son. My dear friend, here is your new mother. Don’t leave this place alone. Go with each other. Be never alone. Love each other.
What he said from the cross to Mary and to John is what he says to us. Go make a new family, more family. Go share love. Be never alone. You all need each other, so be together. Share your needs. Don’t burrow up all by yourself. No one is meant to live that way.
Sometimes I think of the church as the Mary and John Adoption Agency. Almost his last desire was that Jesus wanted to make a new family. His desire for us has never stopped. Being here means making a new family. That was his work. That is our work. This work can be hard work. And, this work is among one of the great joys we will ever have in this life—making more family with and in and through Jesus.
When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, here is your son.’ Then he said to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother.’ And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.” (John 19: 26-27)
Here Jesus is at the point of death. He has been hanging on the cross for several hours. He has been beaten and a spear has pierced his side and he is running out of oxygen. Every time he pulls his body up for another breath he tears into the flesh of his feet and hands. It is an excruciating way to die.
And yet, even with all of this pain, even with his own doubts and struggles, he sees the pain of his mother and the pain of one of his friends. He turns away from his pain and sees theirs.
I find that simply remarkable. But then I shouldn’t. He came to see our pain, our lostness, our brokenness, our frail and flawed humanity. He came to see all of that and to heal all of that. He came to connect us to God, to each other, and to our best and truest selves.
Which is what he does here at almost his last moment alive. He does an adoption process. Mother, here is your new son. My dear friend, here is your new mother. Don’t leave this place alone. Go with each other. Be never alone. Love each other.
What he said from the cross to Mary and to John is what he says to us. Go make a new family, more family. Go share love. Be never alone. You all need each other, so be together. Share your needs. Don’t burrow up all by yourself. No one is meant to live that way.
Sometimes I think of the church as the Mary and John Adoption Agency. Almost his last desire was that Jesus wanted to make a new family. His desire for us has never stopped. Being here means making a new family. That was his work. That is our work. This work can be hard work. And, this work is among one of the great joys we will ever have in this life—making more family with and in and through Jesus.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Jesus Doubted - Day 43*
* I've posted blogs on the Sundays in Lent, so there will be a total of 46 blogs in this series. JWN
“And about three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabach thani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’” (Matthew 27: 46)
I was a senior in college, taking a course in religion (my first one) that was titled, “A seminar on the existence of evil.” One of the constant questions we wrestled with was: “Why do bad things happen to good people?”
One day as we were wrestling with the above question, a woman in the class said, “I have always received great solace that Jesus doubted God’s presence and plan in his life.” I said, “No way that happened.” (I was, frankly, speaking out of turn and out of my expertise or background because I had not read the bible at all.) She said, “He did.” I said, “When?” And she got a bible out of her backpack and read that line from Matthew. I was not embarrassed that she had trumped me. I was not embarrassed because I was so astounded that Jesus had said these words.
That day I went to the bookstore and purchased a bible. I wanted to read the words for myself. I wanted to see what else Jesus had to say.
The fact that Jesus doubted, that he struggled, that he questioned, helped me to believe in Jesus and trust Jesus and get curious about Jesus. The fact that he was that human, that vulnerable, made him so much more accessible and real to me.
At that time in my life I had thought that doubts undermine faith. Not so I found out from Jesus. Doubts and questions and struggles are not the opposite of faith, they are just part of faith and they are just part of being a human being. Sometimes the world doesn’t make much sense. Sometimes our own lives don’t make much sense. Sometimes it is hard to discern where God is or how God acts or why God sometimes doesn’t seem to act. Sometimes we do feel forsaken, all alone, and we question, we doubt whether our faith matters or whether God is there at all. Sometimes we do experience what Jesus felt and questioned and feared on the cross at three o’clock on the afternoon of Good Friday.
During such times let us remember that Jesus, too, questioned God. During such times of doubt and struggle let us remember that Jesus understands where we are, that he doesn’t judge us, and that he is there with us in all of our struggles and doubts. Always.
I am sorry that Jesus went through such pain. And, I am thankful that he did. Thankful because he can now be with us in all that we go through, even our doubts.
“And about three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabach thani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’” (Matthew 27: 46)
I was a senior in college, taking a course in religion (my first one) that was titled, “A seminar on the existence of evil.” One of the constant questions we wrestled with was: “Why do bad things happen to good people?”
One day as we were wrestling with the above question, a woman in the class said, “I have always received great solace that Jesus doubted God’s presence and plan in his life.” I said, “No way that happened.” (I was, frankly, speaking out of turn and out of my expertise or background because I had not read the bible at all.) She said, “He did.” I said, “When?” And she got a bible out of her backpack and read that line from Matthew. I was not embarrassed that she had trumped me. I was not embarrassed because I was so astounded that Jesus had said these words.
That day I went to the bookstore and purchased a bible. I wanted to read the words for myself. I wanted to see what else Jesus had to say.
The fact that Jesus doubted, that he struggled, that he questioned, helped me to believe in Jesus and trust Jesus and get curious about Jesus. The fact that he was that human, that vulnerable, made him so much more accessible and real to me.
At that time in my life I had thought that doubts undermine faith. Not so I found out from Jesus. Doubts and questions and struggles are not the opposite of faith, they are just part of faith and they are just part of being a human being. Sometimes the world doesn’t make much sense. Sometimes our own lives don’t make much sense. Sometimes it is hard to discern where God is or how God acts or why God sometimes doesn’t seem to act. Sometimes we do feel forsaken, all alone, and we question, we doubt whether our faith matters or whether God is there at all. Sometimes we do experience what Jesus felt and questioned and feared on the cross at three o’clock on the afternoon of Good Friday.
During such times let us remember that Jesus, too, questioned God. During such times of doubt and struggle let us remember that Jesus understands where we are, that he doesn’t judge us, and that he is there with us in all of our struggles and doubts. Always.
I am sorry that Jesus went through such pain. And, I am thankful that he did. Thankful because he can now be with us in all that we go through, even our doubts.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Jesus Didn't Flinch - Day 42*
* I've posted blogs on the Sundays in Lent. Since the Sundays in Lent are not counted as part of the 40 days, I will have a total of 46 postings. JWN
Jesus has been picked up by the Roman guards. His dearest friends and disciples have vanished. He has been up all night, being shuttled from one tribunal to the next. He has suffered insults. He has endured endless questioning. He has heard Peter deny him. He is facing his death.
It would seem like everything was stacked against him. It would seem like he would have had almost nothing left, that he would have agreed to almost any confession or apology to get out of his agony. It would seem like Pilate had all the power and that Jesus had none. But this was not the case.
It is clear during Jesus’ time with Pilate that Jesus had the power. Pilate, who had the army right outside, who had all the accoutrement of position, is on his heels throughout his time with this half-naked preacher and teacher.
Pilate asks, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus responds, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” (See John 18: 33-38)
Pilate wants to know if Jesus is a threat to King Caesar. He is thinking about a political king.
But Jesus just sidesteps him. He doesn’t really answer. They go back and forth and Pilate asks him again if he is a king and Jesus says, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” And then Pilate asks him, “What is truth?”
Yes, good question. What is truth? What is your truth? What is the truth of your life—the truth that you stand upon and hope upon?
Is Jesus our King, our Lord, our Savior, our Leader, our All, or is some version, some manifestation, of Pilate, who represents all the principalities and powers of this world? We all have a choice.
It took me years to see Jesus’ courage in this interview, years to see that he had the power and not Pilate, years to see that he didn’t flinch.
He didn’t flinch because he knew that if he did, his work of reconciliation between God and us would have been destroyed. He didn’t flinch because he looked at God’s call to him and our need for him. He didn’t flinch because what could Pilate do other than take his life. He didn’t flinch because he knew that in giving that very life his mission would be complete.
If you follow Jesus you are in an apprenticeship of learning how not to flinch to life, to love, to hope, to forgiveness, to service, to joy. So, be like Jesus. Don’t flinch.
Jesus has been picked up by the Roman guards. His dearest friends and disciples have vanished. He has been up all night, being shuttled from one tribunal to the next. He has suffered insults. He has endured endless questioning. He has heard Peter deny him. He is facing his death.
It would seem like everything was stacked against him. It would seem like he would have had almost nothing left, that he would have agreed to almost any confession or apology to get out of his agony. It would seem like Pilate had all the power and that Jesus had none. But this was not the case.
It is clear during Jesus’ time with Pilate that Jesus had the power. Pilate, who had the army right outside, who had all the accoutrement of position, is on his heels throughout his time with this half-naked preacher and teacher.
Pilate asks, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus responds, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” (See John 18: 33-38)
Pilate wants to know if Jesus is a threat to King Caesar. He is thinking about a political king.
But Jesus just sidesteps him. He doesn’t really answer. They go back and forth and Pilate asks him again if he is a king and Jesus says, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” And then Pilate asks him, “What is truth?”
Yes, good question. What is truth? What is your truth? What is the truth of your life—the truth that you stand upon and hope upon?
Is Jesus our King, our Lord, our Savior, our Leader, our All, or is some version, some manifestation, of Pilate, who represents all the principalities and powers of this world? We all have a choice.
It took me years to see Jesus’ courage in this interview, years to see that he had the power and not Pilate, years to see that he didn’t flinch.
He didn’t flinch because he knew that if he did, his work of reconciliation between God and us would have been destroyed. He didn’t flinch because he looked at God’s call to him and our need for him. He didn’t flinch because what could Pilate do other than take his life. He didn’t flinch because he knew that in giving that very life his mission would be complete.
If you follow Jesus you are in an apprenticeship of learning how not to flinch to life, to love, to hope, to forgiveness, to service, to joy. So, be like Jesus. Don’t flinch.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Jesus Became Bread and Blood - Day 41*
* I have posted blogs on the Sundays in Lent. Sundays are not counted in the 40 days of Lent so that I will actually have 46 postings. JWN
Jesus and his disciples were celebrating the Passover supper, the event and occasion when the Jews remembered the night that they left Egypt, when they were set free from slavery for freedom, when they went from having no land to anticipating the Promised Land, when they put blood on their doorposts to mark them and protect them so that the angel of death would pass over them. Every time the Jews celebrated the Passover they would re-member all of these events, and by re-member I am trying to convey not a simple intellectual recollection, but an actual “re-membering,” redoing, and reenacting all that happening.
We call this event the Last Supper. During this event Jesus took the bread and said this is now my body. During this event Jesus took the wine and said this is now my blood. So, now, he said, eat my body and drink my blood. This is how you become one with me and how I become one with you.
I have had the great joy and privilege of standing at God’s altar and saying Jesus’ words now for many years. I am clear that at the table I am a waiter. I am clear that Jesus is there, that he is the Host, and that the bread and wine do indeed become His Body and His Blood. How all that happens, well, I cannot—nor can anyone else—entirely explain. But that is alright. There is a mystery there that is beyond our words.
The Last Supper has never ended. It is still going on every time we gather around God’s table. He gives us his body and blood in order to feed us and in order to transform us. I do believe in the miracle that such ordinary things as bread and wine are transformed into his body and blood. And, I do believe in the miracle that he takes us, such ordinary folks as us, and transforms us into his body and blood for the world. We become what we eat. As we partake of the sacraments, we are called to become living and walking and extending sacraments. The first miracle is great—the bread and wine becoming his body and blood. The second miracle could perhaps be even greater—you and me becoming his body and blood for the world.
Jesus and his disciples were celebrating the Passover supper, the event and occasion when the Jews remembered the night that they left Egypt, when they were set free from slavery for freedom, when they went from having no land to anticipating the Promised Land, when they put blood on their doorposts to mark them and protect them so that the angel of death would pass over them. Every time the Jews celebrated the Passover they would re-member all of these events, and by re-member I am trying to convey not a simple intellectual recollection, but an actual “re-membering,” redoing, and reenacting all that happening.
We call this event the Last Supper. During this event Jesus took the bread and said this is now my body. During this event Jesus took the wine and said this is now my blood. So, now, he said, eat my body and drink my blood. This is how you become one with me and how I become one with you.
I have had the great joy and privilege of standing at God’s altar and saying Jesus’ words now for many years. I am clear that at the table I am a waiter. I am clear that Jesus is there, that he is the Host, and that the bread and wine do indeed become His Body and His Blood. How all that happens, well, I cannot—nor can anyone else—entirely explain. But that is alright. There is a mystery there that is beyond our words.
The Last Supper has never ended. It is still going on every time we gather around God’s table. He gives us his body and blood in order to feed us and in order to transform us. I do believe in the miracle that such ordinary things as bread and wine are transformed into his body and blood. And, I do believe in the miracle that he takes us, such ordinary folks as us, and transforms us into his body and blood for the world. We become what we eat. As we partake of the sacraments, we are called to become living and walking and extending sacraments. The first miracle is great—the bread and wine becoming his body and blood. The second miracle could perhaps be even greater—you and me becoming his body and blood for the world.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Jesus Served - Day 40
Last Supper. The disciples knew it. Jesus knew it. We know it by reading the account. Solemn. Quiet. Tense.
At a quiet moment, Jesus “got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him.” (see John 13: 1-15) After wrangling with Peter about whether or not Jesus is going to wash his feet, Jesus says, “So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set an example, that you should do as I have done to you.”
I was in seminary and was chosen to be one of representatives in the community that would have his feet washed by one of the faculty members. As I saw Fr. Hunt (he was our Old Testament professor) kneel before me to wash my feet I began to cry.
Once I got out of seminary I was asked to oversee the foot washing ceremony at the Cathedral in Portland, Maine, when the bishop would wash the feet of 12 leaders from the diocese. As I watched the bishop do this washing I kept hearing in my heart and head Jesus’ words: If I have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. I knew at that moment that someday I would design a foot washing service where everyone was invited to wash and be washed.
Which is, of course, what we have been doing at Palmer for many years now. Every year I go back to that moment when Fr. Hunt washed my feet. Every year I cry as I see couples come forward and children and parents come forward and complete strangers come forward and sometimes even folks who don’t much like each other come forward to wash each other’s feet. Every year I see Jesus in it all. Every year I see so much grace and love and peace and connection and joy.
The water from the feet washing is, of course, a bit…well…linty. But it is also Holy Water. It is Holy because Jesus was in the water, in the washing, in the touching.
If you haven’t come to this service before, don’t be afraid or anxious. Just come. Just wash. Just be washed. See Jesus kneeling before you. See him in the person you wash. Jesus said “do it,” and we do.
At a quiet moment, Jesus “got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him.” (see John 13: 1-15) After wrangling with Peter about whether or not Jesus is going to wash his feet, Jesus says, “So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set an example, that you should do as I have done to you.”
I was in seminary and was chosen to be one of representatives in the community that would have his feet washed by one of the faculty members. As I saw Fr. Hunt (he was our Old Testament professor) kneel before me to wash my feet I began to cry.
Once I got out of seminary I was asked to oversee the foot washing ceremony at the Cathedral in Portland, Maine, when the bishop would wash the feet of 12 leaders from the diocese. As I watched the bishop do this washing I kept hearing in my heart and head Jesus’ words: If I have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. I knew at that moment that someday I would design a foot washing service where everyone was invited to wash and be washed.
Which is, of course, what we have been doing at Palmer for many years now. Every year I go back to that moment when Fr. Hunt washed my feet. Every year I cry as I see couples come forward and children and parents come forward and complete strangers come forward and sometimes even folks who don’t much like each other come forward to wash each other’s feet. Every year I see Jesus in it all. Every year I see so much grace and love and peace and connection and joy.
The water from the feet washing is, of course, a bit…well…linty. But it is also Holy Water. It is Holy because Jesus was in the water, in the washing, in the touching.
If you haven’t come to this service before, don’t be afraid or anxious. Just come. Just wash. Just be washed. See Jesus kneeling before you. See him in the person you wash. Jesus said “do it,” and we do.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Jesus Led the Parade - Day 39
I used to love Palm Sunday as a kid. It may even have been my favorite day. I loved the pageantry. I enjoyed the parading around. I liked the palms that we folded up into crosses. I liked the chaos and mess and movement of it all. Compared to Palm Sunday, Easter seemed just like the regular services, just more music, more people, more flowers.
No, Palm Sunday was my day. But then, as an adult, I began to understand that Jesus was riding to his death. The day always starts with such joy and it always ends with such pain. We go from singing, “hosanna” to crying, “crucify.” The day is now the hardest day of the year for me. It is the stretch of emotions that always gets to me. It is the whiplash from extreme hope to dire pain, from celebration to execration, from trust to denial, from light to darkness that always completely exhausts and challenges me.
Jesus led the parade. He knows that he is parading not to victory but to defeat, not to glory but to shame, not to be clothed in royal robes but to be stripped naked, not to a crown of gold but one of thorns. He knows all this and he still rides on.
That is courage. That is faith. That is love.
He led the parade for us. For us and for the whole world for all time. It is the parade of glory and victory in the end.
He led the parade with a courage that is hard for us to imagine. But we can be grateful for it.
All Jesus wants us to do now is to join him in the parade of love and commitment and faith. He doesn’t want us to watch him pass by. He wants us to join him.
Once I understood that—that Jesus wants us in the parade with him—it helps me to get through Palm Sunday. It is still a painful day, though. It grieves me that Jesus had to die for us. I am, however, very grateful that he did.
No, Palm Sunday was my day. But then, as an adult, I began to understand that Jesus was riding to his death. The day always starts with such joy and it always ends with such pain. We go from singing, “hosanna” to crying, “crucify.” The day is now the hardest day of the year for me. It is the stretch of emotions that always gets to me. It is the whiplash from extreme hope to dire pain, from celebration to execration, from trust to denial, from light to darkness that always completely exhausts and challenges me.
Jesus led the parade. He knows that he is parading not to victory but to defeat, not to glory but to shame, not to be clothed in royal robes but to be stripped naked, not to a crown of gold but one of thorns. He knows all this and he still rides on.
That is courage. That is faith. That is love.
He led the parade for us. For us and for the whole world for all time. It is the parade of glory and victory in the end.
He led the parade with a courage that is hard for us to imagine. But we can be grateful for it.
All Jesus wants us to do now is to join him in the parade of love and commitment and faith. He doesn’t want us to watch him pass by. He wants us to join him.
Once I understood that—that Jesus wants us in the parade with him—it helps me to get through Palm Sunday. It is still a painful day, though. It grieves me that Jesus had to die for us. I am, however, very grateful that he did.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Jesus Wept - Day 38
Jesus has been on the road towards Jerusalem. This will be his final trip there. He knows that things are about to come to a head. He knows that he is going to be confronting the religious and civil authorities. Just as Jesus came to the outskirts of the city we are invited into his heart: “As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, ‘If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes….’” (Luke 19: 41-42)
Jesus wept. He wept because he knew that the people didn’t really know who he was or what he came to do. He wept because he knew that the religious authorities would not open their hearts to receive him and to change. He wept because he knew that the civil authorities were entrenched and that they cared more about power than either justice or peace. He wept because he must have wondered if his death, and yes he must have known he was soon to die, would matter. He wept because he must have wondered if his life or message or example would live on. He wept because he saw the stubbornness and foolishness of people’s hearts.
Jesus wept then as he stood looking at Jerusalem, and Jesus weeps now. He weeps when we turn away from him, when we hurt ourselves or someone else, when we don’t share, when we don’t love, when we don’t forgive, when we harbor anger, when we nurture resentments, when we horde while other people are needy, when we complain and whine while forgetting or denying just how blessed we are, when we don’t commend the faith that is in us, when we fall into addictions that rob our joy and health, when we make choices for death and not for life, when we walk away from community or tear into it, when we forget that we and all other people are precious children of God, when we reject that we are our brother’s and our sister’s keeper and protector, when we try to gain the whole world while putting our soul into jeopardy.
We wipe away the tears of Jesus when we choose life and love and faith and community and peace and fairness and trust and joy.
It breaks my heart to think that Jesus wept on that day long ago. It even more breaks my heart to think about how we can cause Jesus to weep today. But it also gladdens my heart to consider how we can wipe away some of his tears by how we act and live and speak today. As for me, I would rather wipe away his tears than cause them. I am sure you feel the same way.
Jesus wept. He wept because he knew that the people didn’t really know who he was or what he came to do. He wept because he knew that the religious authorities would not open their hearts to receive him and to change. He wept because he knew that the civil authorities were entrenched and that they cared more about power than either justice or peace. He wept because he must have wondered if his death, and yes he must have known he was soon to die, would matter. He wept because he must have wondered if his life or message or example would live on. He wept because he saw the stubbornness and foolishness of people’s hearts.
Jesus wept then as he stood looking at Jerusalem, and Jesus weeps now. He weeps when we turn away from him, when we hurt ourselves or someone else, when we don’t share, when we don’t love, when we don’t forgive, when we harbor anger, when we nurture resentments, when we horde while other people are needy, when we complain and whine while forgetting or denying just how blessed we are, when we don’t commend the faith that is in us, when we fall into addictions that rob our joy and health, when we make choices for death and not for life, when we walk away from community or tear into it, when we forget that we and all other people are precious children of God, when we reject that we are our brother’s and our sister’s keeper and protector, when we try to gain the whole world while putting our soul into jeopardy.
We wipe away the tears of Jesus when we choose life and love and faith and community and peace and fairness and trust and joy.
It breaks my heart to think that Jesus wept on that day long ago. It even more breaks my heart to think about how we can cause Jesus to weep today. But it also gladdens my heart to consider how we can wipe away some of his tears by how we act and live and speak today. As for me, I would rather wipe away his tears than cause them. I am sure you feel the same way.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Jesus Wants a Friend - Day 37
We are now at the Last Supper. The disciples know that things are about to come to an end. There is great tension and fear in the air. Everything that Jesus says and does captures their most intense focus. They are worried for Jesus and for themselves. If he is taken, if he is captured, who will take care of them and lead them and love them? During this time, Jesus says some very profound things and some very simple things. Jesus had a gift for keeping the profound and the simple in tension.
An example of the latter: “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (John 15: 12-13)
I admit that I once didn’t like the song that began with these words, “What a friend we have in Jesus…” I thought that thinking about Jesus as a friend somehow diminished him. I thought that such sentiments were somehow undignified. I was a “song-snob.”
When Jesus first walked up to Peter and Andrew and James and John on the seashore, asking them to follow him, they didn’t think that he was the Messiah, the Son of God, or the Second Person of the Trinity. They thought of him as a new and exciting friend. When Jesus chose the rest of the 12, he was choosing them to be his followers, yes, but he was also choosing them because he wanted some friends. He wanted the support and encouragement and joy and camaraderie that friends can give. The human-Jesus wanted and needed friends.
We, too, need friends. I think that in many ways it can be harder to make friends the older you get. We seem to have less time. We feel so preoccupied with all the rest of life and work. But we never stop needing friends. I listen to a lot of lonely people in my office. Maybe loneliness is the most prevalent issue that I hear.
What a friend we have in Jesus. Maybe it is time to stop thinking about Jesus only theologically. Maybe it is time to also think about him as your friend. You need one (and, of course, I would suggest that you also work on other friendships as well), and he wants one, too. Yes, Jesus wants you as his friend. Novel concept for you, perhaps, but there it is right in scripture. He came to be our friend. He came to make friends. He wants you to be his.
An example of the latter: “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (John 15: 12-13)
I admit that I once didn’t like the song that began with these words, “What a friend we have in Jesus…” I thought that thinking about Jesus as a friend somehow diminished him. I thought that such sentiments were somehow undignified. I was a “song-snob.”
When Jesus first walked up to Peter and Andrew and James and John on the seashore, asking them to follow him, they didn’t think that he was the Messiah, the Son of God, or the Second Person of the Trinity. They thought of him as a new and exciting friend. When Jesus chose the rest of the 12, he was choosing them to be his followers, yes, but he was also choosing them because he wanted some friends. He wanted the support and encouragement and joy and camaraderie that friends can give. The human-Jesus wanted and needed friends.
We, too, need friends. I think that in many ways it can be harder to make friends the older you get. We seem to have less time. We feel so preoccupied with all the rest of life and work. But we never stop needing friends. I listen to a lot of lonely people in my office. Maybe loneliness is the most prevalent issue that I hear.
What a friend we have in Jesus. Maybe it is time to stop thinking about Jesus only theologically. Maybe it is time to also think about him as your friend. You need one (and, of course, I would suggest that you also work on other friendships as well), and he wants one, too. Yes, Jesus wants you as his friend. Novel concept for you, perhaps, but there it is right in scripture. He came to be our friend. He came to make friends. He wants you to be his.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Jesus Used the Boy's Snack - Day 36
The boy was out for a day of fishing. He took along his lunch to keep him for the day. He got to the shore and noticed a great throng of people. He wedged his way into the middle of the crowd to see what was going on. There he is with his fishing rod, his bait, his little net, and his lunch.
He saw Jesus. He didn’t know who Jesus was. But he saw him and he listened to him. He then heard Jesus say that his followers needed to feed all the folks. And then he heard them protest that there was no way they could do that—there were too many folks; there was not enough food.
At some point in the midst of all this wrangling the boy found Andrew or Andrew found the boy. At some point the boy’s snack was offered to Jesus. At some point Jesus took the boy’s snack, said the prayer, broke the bread, sliced the fish, and fed the multitudes.
We always talk about the miracle of Jesus feeding the five thousand; and yes, that kind of multiplication is a miracle. But how about the gift of the boy—let us not lose track of him. Without him and his snack and his willingness to offer all he had, Jesus wouldn’t have had the “goods” to do his miracle.
I have always felt very close to this boy. No, I never relished going out to fish for a day, but I, like him, and like the disciples, have felt the gap between what I had to give and what needed to happen. Sometimes, unlike this boy, I didn’t offer my gift because I felt so inadequate about it. I wonder how I have let people go hungry in my life because I walked away and kept my lunch to myself, either because I simply didn’t want to share or because I felt like my gift would never be enough.
With Jesus it is. Your gift is enough. So, be like the boy. Your snack, your life, your gift, your offering is enough. Just give it. Don’t judge youself and/or your gift. If Jesus could feed the multitudes with the boy’s snack just imagine what he could do with what you have to offer.
He saw Jesus. He didn’t know who Jesus was. But he saw him and he listened to him. He then heard Jesus say that his followers needed to feed all the folks. And then he heard them protest that there was no way they could do that—there were too many folks; there was not enough food.
At some point in the midst of all this wrangling the boy found Andrew or Andrew found the boy. At some point the boy’s snack was offered to Jesus. At some point Jesus took the boy’s snack, said the prayer, broke the bread, sliced the fish, and fed the multitudes.
We always talk about the miracle of Jesus feeding the five thousand; and yes, that kind of multiplication is a miracle. But how about the gift of the boy—let us not lose track of him. Without him and his snack and his willingness to offer all he had, Jesus wouldn’t have had the “goods” to do his miracle.
I have always felt very close to this boy. No, I never relished going out to fish for a day, but I, like him, and like the disciples, have felt the gap between what I had to give and what needed to happen. Sometimes, unlike this boy, I didn’t offer my gift because I felt so inadequate about it. I wonder how I have let people go hungry in my life because I walked away and kept my lunch to myself, either because I simply didn’t want to share or because I felt like my gift would never be enough.
With Jesus it is. Your gift is enough. So, be like the boy. Your snack, your life, your gift, your offering is enough. Just give it. Don’t judge youself and/or your gift. If Jesus could feed the multitudes with the boy’s snack just imagine what he could do with what you have to offer.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Jesus Knew the Worth of a Penny - Day 35
Jesus and his disciples are sitting opposite the treasury, which was either a special room in the temple or a collection box in the outer courts. Rich folks are coming in and letting everyone know how much they are putting in. People praise them. They are feeling pretty good about themselves. There is probably some preening and strutting and grandstanding and competing going on.
In the midst of all this, a poor widow silently walks through the crowd and puts two small copper coins, worth about a penny, into the box. Jesus then said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” (Mark 12:41-44)
Jesus knew the worth of a penny. For Jesus it was not the size of the gift that mattered. What mattered was the size of the commitment, the size of the sacrifice, the size of the generosity. And the woman out-gave them all. Hands-down. If Jesus were running a church I hope he would have made her the stewardship-chair.
I once met this poor widow’s “granddaughter.” She had made some “bad” choices in her life. She was on welfare. She was living in subsidized housing. We, the church, were constantly helping her, moving her, taking care of her children, bailing her out of trouble. She was a High-Grace-Required-Person. But she was also our most generous giver. She tithed. Yep. Right-off-the-top. No strings. No questions. No equivocations. No excuses. Ten percent. I had her give her testimony one year and her words touched more hearts, more pledges, more checkbooks than any other talk I have ever witnessed.
It would be easy for anyone of us to say to ourselves, “Well, she could give more because she had less to give.” Careful. Do you really want to say that even to yourself? Remember that Jesus stands outside the treasury of your own heart.
Jesus knew the worth of a penny. He knew that the poor widow’s penny represented a true gift, a sacrificial gift, a generous gift, a heart-gift.
I had written above that, “if Jesus were running a church I hope he would have made her the Stewardship-chair.” But, of course, Jesus is supposed to be running a church. The church is his church. And he did make this woman if not the stewardship chair, then the stewardship example for us all. Jesus knew the worth of her penny. Do we know and share and worth of our own?
In the midst of all this, a poor widow silently walks through the crowd and puts two small copper coins, worth about a penny, into the box. Jesus then said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” (Mark 12:41-44)
Jesus knew the worth of a penny. For Jesus it was not the size of the gift that mattered. What mattered was the size of the commitment, the size of the sacrifice, the size of the generosity. And the woman out-gave them all. Hands-down. If Jesus were running a church I hope he would have made her the stewardship-chair.
I once met this poor widow’s “granddaughter.” She had made some “bad” choices in her life. She was on welfare. She was living in subsidized housing. We, the church, were constantly helping her, moving her, taking care of her children, bailing her out of trouble. She was a High-Grace-Required-Person. But she was also our most generous giver. She tithed. Yep. Right-off-the-top. No strings. No questions. No equivocations. No excuses. Ten percent. I had her give her testimony one year and her words touched more hearts, more pledges, more checkbooks than any other talk I have ever witnessed.
It would be easy for anyone of us to say to ourselves, “Well, she could give more because she had less to give.” Careful. Do you really want to say that even to yourself? Remember that Jesus stands outside the treasury of your own heart.
Jesus knew the worth of a penny. He knew that the poor widow’s penny represented a true gift, a sacrificial gift, a generous gift, a heart-gift.
I had written above that, “if Jesus were running a church I hope he would have made her the Stewardship-chair.” But, of course, Jesus is supposed to be running a church. The church is his church. And he did make this woman if not the stewardship chair, then the stewardship example for us all. Jesus knew the worth of her penny. Do we know and share and worth of our own?
Monday, March 30, 2009
Jesus Boiled It Down - Day 34
The Jews had a lot of rules and regulations and commandments. They catalogued them. They compared them and ranked them. They wrangled and argued over them. They set up political parties and ecclesiastical sub-groups over them.
That is the background to one of the scribes coming to Jesus and asking him, “Which commandment is the first of all?” (Mark 12:28f) We don’t know if the scribe really wanted to know what Jesus had to say or if he was only trying to draw Jesus into a never-ending and going-nowhere theological debate.
Jesus was very clear about the answer: “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your souls, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’”
There it is. Jesus boiled it all down. Love. Love God. Love your neighbor. Love yourself.
Love God because God is love and because God is worthy of love. When you don’t love God you are separated from God and from how God designed you to be. Love your neighbor because your neighbor is a child of God, because you neighbor is made in God’s image, and because you need your neighbor and your neighbor needs you. Love yourself because you too are a child of God and because you need love and deserve love and want love.
I started with how the Jews had lots of rules and regulations and commandments, and how they compared them, ranked them, and set-up parties over them. I am, of course, not just talking about them. I am, of course, talking about many of us. I am talking about so many of our churches. I am talking about so many of our church debates and even how such theological issues get worked at times in our political process.
Jesus, though, boiled it all down. Love. Is there some place in your life where you would do well to do the same? Just boil it down. I am not asking you to live a simplistic life. But sometimes our complexity is self-induced. Sometimes all of our complexity—like that of the scribes wrangling the relative importance of each law—is a way of avoiding what we most need to do, and that is to love God, love our neighbor, and love our self.
That is the background to one of the scribes coming to Jesus and asking him, “Which commandment is the first of all?” (Mark 12:28f) We don’t know if the scribe really wanted to know what Jesus had to say or if he was only trying to draw Jesus into a never-ending and going-nowhere theological debate.
Jesus was very clear about the answer: “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your souls, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’”
There it is. Jesus boiled it all down. Love. Love God. Love your neighbor. Love yourself.
Love God because God is love and because God is worthy of love. When you don’t love God you are separated from God and from how God designed you to be. Love your neighbor because your neighbor is a child of God, because you neighbor is made in God’s image, and because you need your neighbor and your neighbor needs you. Love yourself because you too are a child of God and because you need love and deserve love and want love.
I started with how the Jews had lots of rules and regulations and commandments, and how they compared them, ranked them, and set-up parties over them. I am, of course, not just talking about them. I am, of course, talking about many of us. I am talking about so many of our churches. I am talking about so many of our church debates and even how such theological issues get worked at times in our political process.
Jesus, though, boiled it all down. Love. Is there some place in your life where you would do well to do the same? Just boil it down. I am not asking you to live a simplistic life. But sometimes our complexity is self-induced. Sometimes all of our complexity—like that of the scribes wrangling the relative importance of each law—is a way of avoiding what we most need to do, and that is to love God, love our neighbor, and love our self.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Jesus Overturned the Tables - Day 33
It may well have been the final straw. We are in the temple. Jesus goes in to worship and he can barely get through the animal vendors, the moneychangers, and the temple administrators who are counting up the profits. All of them are making a killing on the poor pilgrims who are coming to the Passover rituals in Jerusalem. The temple is no more a place of prayer and adoration and worship and confession and thanksgiving. It has been taken over by money transactions, greed, bartering, trading. It is no more a temple dedicated to worship. It is now a market-place-bazaar.
Jesus loses it. He starts to overturn all of the tables. Mayhem ensues. Animals go berserk. Coins are rolling everywhere. The temple officials gather to condemn Jesus—they have had enough and he, Jesus, must go. Too much is at stake for him to continue.
Jesus overturns the tables. He did it then that day in Jerusalem at the temple and he does it now. What he did that day is a metaphor or symbol of what he still does. He overturns our tables when we turn our own inner temples into practices that undermine our faith, that drain our souls, that corrupt our minds, and that shrink our hearts.
Jesus got very angry when he entered the temple that day. Behind and beneath all of his fierce anger is his love. He wants nothing to distract us, to rob us, to compromise our temple. He cleansed the temple in Jerusalem on that day. How might he right now be trying to cleanse you? How might he right now be overturning some of your own tables? How might he right now be calling you to true worship and adoration and prayer?
Jesus loses it. He starts to overturn all of the tables. Mayhem ensues. Animals go berserk. Coins are rolling everywhere. The temple officials gather to condemn Jesus—they have had enough and he, Jesus, must go. Too much is at stake for him to continue.
Jesus overturns the tables. He did it then that day in Jerusalem at the temple and he does it now. What he did that day is a metaphor or symbol of what he still does. He overturns our tables when we turn our own inner temples into practices that undermine our faith, that drain our souls, that corrupt our minds, and that shrink our hearts.
Jesus got very angry when he entered the temple that day. Behind and beneath all of his fierce anger is his love. He wants nothing to distract us, to rob us, to compromise our temple. He cleansed the temple in Jerusalem on that day. How might he right now be trying to cleanse you? How might he right now be overturning some of your own tables? How might he right now be calling you to true worship and adoration and prayer?
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Jesus Challenged the Rich - Day 32
Quite suddenly a man is kneeling before Jesus, asking him this question: “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Mark 10:17f)
Jesus tells him to follow the commandments. He doesn’t initially seem like he wants to engage in the man’s question. The man quickly responds that he has, but that something is still missing. Jesus then, looking at him, “loved him and said, ‘You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me. When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.’”
The man chose his possessions over Jesus. His stuff mattered more to him than eternal life. He grieved because he didn’t know how—didn’t want to—give away his things in order to follow Jesus. He couldn’t have his possessions and follow Jesus. To follow Jesus you have got to travel light.
Every year during the stewardship season (now, friends, that is a misnomer because all year is the stewardship season) I will have someone tell me to stop talking about money and to get back to preaching on spiritual issues. Money is a spiritual issue. What we do with it is a spiritual issue. Jesus talks constantly about money because he knows that any one of us are at risk of worshiping what we have, of being possessed by our possessions, of giving our first efforts to making and earning and accumulating stuff while putting our souls and our relationships at huge risk.
These are difficult times—times when many of us are worried about our money, our futures, our retirements, our commitments.
We are right now, many of us, on our knees. What will happen to us? What can we do to turn things around? Where is the bottom? Will I have to work until I drop? Will I need to downsize? Will my kids need to go to another college?
As you are asking all of these real and hard questions, remember, please do turn your gaze to Jesus. And remember to ask: “Jesus, where are you in all this? Will you, please, keep me from going crazy, keep me from losing my soul, keep me from losing my focus and trust and faith?”
Do not, like the rich man in this story, turn away from Jesus during this time. Turn towards him. He is there. If you have to travel a bit lighter in the future, so be it. Those who follow Jesus often do.
Jesus tells him to follow the commandments. He doesn’t initially seem like he wants to engage in the man’s question. The man quickly responds that he has, but that something is still missing. Jesus then, looking at him, “loved him and said, ‘You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me. When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.’”
The man chose his possessions over Jesus. His stuff mattered more to him than eternal life. He grieved because he didn’t know how—didn’t want to—give away his things in order to follow Jesus. He couldn’t have his possessions and follow Jesus. To follow Jesus you have got to travel light.
Every year during the stewardship season (now, friends, that is a misnomer because all year is the stewardship season) I will have someone tell me to stop talking about money and to get back to preaching on spiritual issues. Money is a spiritual issue. What we do with it is a spiritual issue. Jesus talks constantly about money because he knows that any one of us are at risk of worshiping what we have, of being possessed by our possessions, of giving our first efforts to making and earning and accumulating stuff while putting our souls and our relationships at huge risk.
These are difficult times—times when many of us are worried about our money, our futures, our retirements, our commitments.
We are right now, many of us, on our knees. What will happen to us? What can we do to turn things around? Where is the bottom? Will I have to work until I drop? Will I need to downsize? Will my kids need to go to another college?
As you are asking all of these real and hard questions, remember, please do turn your gaze to Jesus. And remember to ask: “Jesus, where are you in all this? Will you, please, keep me from going crazy, keep me from losing my soul, keep me from losing my focus and trust and faith?”
Do not, like the rich man in this story, turn away from Jesus during this time. Turn towards him. He is there. If you have to travel a bit lighter in the future, so be it. Those who follow Jesus often do.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Jesus Needed Help - Day 31
It had been a difficult time. Peter had finally said that Jesus was the Messiah, Jesus then told them what he, the Messiah, had to do (suffer and die), Peter had rebuked Jesus, Jesus then rebuked Peter. Things were very quiet in the camp for the next week. No one dared to talk. No one quite knew what to do.
Six days after all of these difficult revelations and tumultuous confrontations, Jesus takes Peter and James and John to a “high mountain apart… [where]… he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them.” (See Mark 9:2-8)
While there in all of his glory, Moses and Elijah showed up and the three could overhear their conversation. I have always wondered what Moses and Elijah had to say to Jesus, and what Jesus had to say to them. I have always imagined that Moses and Elijah were there to give Jesus support and encouragement. As soon as Jesus came down the mountain he set off for Jerusalem; as soon as he came down out of the light he began to descend into the “valley of the shadow of death.” As much as he was clear about his mission, no one could embark upon it and not feel some trepidation. So what I hear Moses and Elijah saying is something like this: “Jesus, our ways, the ways of the Law and the Prophets, were not enough. These ways didn’t bring the people back to God. These ways didn’t change their hearts. These ways didn’t melt their resistance. Now, it is your turn. Maybe your death, your blood, your sacrifice, will help the people to see how much God loves them. We are with you. Always.”
Jesus needed help. We all do. If Jesus needed help, who are we not to be open to it ourselves? I know many people—me included here, sometimes—who are much better at giving help than accepting it. That is pretty foolish when you think about it, isn’t it? And, it is pretty arrogant. There is no self-sufficiency in life or in the Body of Christ.
So, be both humble enough and strong enough to ask for some help. Jesus did. And he got it. So will you when you ask. Be like Jesus.
Six days after all of these difficult revelations and tumultuous confrontations, Jesus takes Peter and James and John to a “high mountain apart… [where]… he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them.” (See Mark 9:2-8)
While there in all of his glory, Moses and Elijah showed up and the three could overhear their conversation. I have always wondered what Moses and Elijah had to say to Jesus, and what Jesus had to say to them. I have always imagined that Moses and Elijah were there to give Jesus support and encouragement. As soon as Jesus came down the mountain he set off for Jerusalem; as soon as he came down out of the light he began to descend into the “valley of the shadow of death.” As much as he was clear about his mission, no one could embark upon it and not feel some trepidation. So what I hear Moses and Elijah saying is something like this: “Jesus, our ways, the ways of the Law and the Prophets, were not enough. These ways didn’t bring the people back to God. These ways didn’t change their hearts. These ways didn’t melt their resistance. Now, it is your turn. Maybe your death, your blood, your sacrifice, will help the people to see how much God loves them. We are with you. Always.”
Jesus needed help. We all do. If Jesus needed help, who are we not to be open to it ourselves? I know many people—me included here, sometimes—who are much better at giving help than accepting it. That is pretty foolish when you think about it, isn’t it? And, it is pretty arrogant. There is no self-sufficiency in life or in the Body of Christ.
So, be both humble enough and strong enough to ask for some help. Jesus did. And he got it. So will you when you ask. Be like Jesus.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Jesus Upped-the-Ante Day 30
For a long time following Jesus had been a great adventure. The disciples had seen him do just incredible things. He then sent them out to do the same in his name and they did it. They just know that they are about something that is very big, something that could change everything. All of their wildest hopes and visions and dreams seem to be coming true.
But then the whole mood begins to change. They had been hearing the rumors about Jesus. Some had begun to speculate that Jesus could be the Messiah. When Jesus asks them who they say he is, Peter says, “You are the Messiah,” and just when they think they are about to celebrate, Jesus immediately gives them a completely different understanding of what the Messiah is going to do. He says, “Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed…” (Mark 8:31) The disciples are crushed. They are confused. Peter tries to correct Jesus, and then Jesus rebukes Peter. It is an awful sequence.
And then, Jesus upped-the-ante even more: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” (8:34)
It is amazing that they stayed with Jesus at all. What he says about himself they didn’t count on. What he says about them they didn’t count on either.
Following God’s plan, God’s rescue mission, cost Jesus his life. Jesus couldn’t do what he was called to do, what we needed him to do, without giving his life. His life for our life. His sacrifice for our sins. We sometimes don’t like to talk about the Christian life with such stark terms, such dire straits; no, it is much easier to talk about church, or about our liturgy, or about some social or moral issue—but there is no way around what Jesus did for us and there is no way around what he says it means to follow him.
His cross, our cross. His sacrifice, our sacrifice. Discipleship costs. No way around it. Grace may be free, as we say, but Jesus had to give his life to give it to us. We must give him ours to receive it.
Jesus upped-the-ante and staked his whole life for us. What are we willing to stake for him?
But then the whole mood begins to change. They had been hearing the rumors about Jesus. Some had begun to speculate that Jesus could be the Messiah. When Jesus asks them who they say he is, Peter says, “You are the Messiah,” and just when they think they are about to celebrate, Jesus immediately gives them a completely different understanding of what the Messiah is going to do. He says, “Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed…” (Mark 8:31) The disciples are crushed. They are confused. Peter tries to correct Jesus, and then Jesus rebukes Peter. It is an awful sequence.
And then, Jesus upped-the-ante even more: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” (8:34)
It is amazing that they stayed with Jesus at all. What he says about himself they didn’t count on. What he says about them they didn’t count on either.
Following God’s plan, God’s rescue mission, cost Jesus his life. Jesus couldn’t do what he was called to do, what we needed him to do, without giving his life. His life for our life. His sacrifice for our sins. We sometimes don’t like to talk about the Christian life with such stark terms, such dire straits; no, it is much easier to talk about church, or about our liturgy, or about some social or moral issue—but there is no way around what Jesus did for us and there is no way around what he says it means to follow him.
His cross, our cross. His sacrifice, our sacrifice. Discipleship costs. No way around it. Grace may be free, as we say, but Jesus had to give his life to give it to us. We must give him ours to receive it.
Jesus upped-the-ante and staked his whole life for us. What are we willing to stake for him?
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Jesus Wanted to Know the Skinny - Day 29
We all like being in on what is going on. We like the inside word. We like to know what is being said of us. It is the “skinny.” We want to know.
Jesus was no different. As Jesus and his disciples were traveling through Caesarea Philippi, he asked them, “ ‘Who do people say that I am?’ And they answered him, ‘John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.’ He asked them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ Peter answered him, ‘You are the Messiah.’” (Mark 8:27-29)
Under the guise of wanting to know what others were saying about him, the skinny, Jesus actually wanted to know what they, the disciples, thought of him. He wanted to know what they thought, what they were saying, because he knew that faith cannot be second-hand or hearsay. Faith cannot come from someone else’s words. Faith must be your own words. We cannot live anyone else’s faith, only our own.
We must know that Jesus puts the same question to us. Jesus wants to know what we have to say. He doesn’t want to know what we hear, what we read, what we may recite, or what we may sing. We all know that we can hear and read and recite and sing a lot of words that don’t sink in, that don’t necessarily mean all that much. Jesus knows the same thing.
So, again, who do you say that Jesus is for you? He wants to know. He doesn’t want to know for his sake—Jesus knows who he is. He wants to know who you say that he is for your sake.
Jesus was no different. As Jesus and his disciples were traveling through Caesarea Philippi, he asked them, “ ‘Who do people say that I am?’ And they answered him, ‘John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.’ He asked them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ Peter answered him, ‘You are the Messiah.’” (Mark 8:27-29)
Under the guise of wanting to know what others were saying about him, the skinny, Jesus actually wanted to know what they, the disciples, thought of him. He wanted to know what they thought, what they were saying, because he knew that faith cannot be second-hand or hearsay. Faith cannot come from someone else’s words. Faith must be your own words. We cannot live anyone else’s faith, only our own.
We must know that Jesus puts the same question to us. Jesus wants to know what we have to say. He doesn’t want to know what we hear, what we read, what we may recite, or what we may sing. We all know that we can hear and read and recite and sing a lot of words that don’t sink in, that don’t necessarily mean all that much. Jesus knows the same thing.
So, again, who do you say that Jesus is for you? He wants to know. He doesn’t want to know for his sake—Jesus knows who he is. He wants to know who you say that he is for your sake.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Jesus Gave Out Hearing Aids - Day 28
“They brought to [Jesus] a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him. He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his finger into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, he sighed, and said to him, ‘Ephphatha,’ that is, ‘Be opened.’ And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly.” (Mark 7:32-35)
Actually Jesus himself was the hearing aid, and the speaking aid. Once the man could hear he could then speak. His hearing and his speaking were connected. Jesus used some spit, he touched the man, he said, “Be opened,” and the man could hear and speak.
I know that I sometimes need to have my ears opened. I know that I am sometimes deaf, that I sometimes don’t hear clearly, that I sometimes have selective hearing. I also know that my hearing problems lead to speaking problems. I know that I am this man in the story. I may not actually be deaf, but I am sometimes tone deaf, emotionally deaf, deaf to what is important, deaf even to God. I know that I need healing.
How about you? Do you always hear clearly and speak clearly? Do you ever half hear your spouse or child or partner or boss or employee? Do you ever shut down your ears because you don’t want to hear? I think we might call this “Willful-Deafness.” It is a pretty prominent condition.
If some folks, like this man in the story, brought you to Jesus, and if Jesus took you aside and if he spat and touched your tongue and if he said “Ephphatha” over you, what do you think he would want you to hear? I have some clues. “My brother, my sister, be well, be whole, be happy, be secure, be strong, be forgiven and forgiving, be loved and loving, be God’s.” And once we had heard all this, once our ears had been opened to hear Jesus, how might he want our tongue to be released? What might he want us to say? The same.
Many of us are a bit deaf. Many of us have an impediment in our speech. Jesus healed then. Jesus can heal now.
Actually Jesus himself was the hearing aid, and the speaking aid. Once the man could hear he could then speak. His hearing and his speaking were connected. Jesus used some spit, he touched the man, he said, “Be opened,” and the man could hear and speak.
I know that I sometimes need to have my ears opened. I know that I am sometimes deaf, that I sometimes don’t hear clearly, that I sometimes have selective hearing. I also know that my hearing problems lead to speaking problems. I know that I am this man in the story. I may not actually be deaf, but I am sometimes tone deaf, emotionally deaf, deaf to what is important, deaf even to God. I know that I need healing.
How about you? Do you always hear clearly and speak clearly? Do you ever half hear your spouse or child or partner or boss or employee? Do you ever shut down your ears because you don’t want to hear? I think we might call this “Willful-Deafness.” It is a pretty prominent condition.
If some folks, like this man in the story, brought you to Jesus, and if Jesus took you aside and if he spat and touched your tongue and if he said “Ephphatha” over you, what do you think he would want you to hear? I have some clues. “My brother, my sister, be well, be whole, be happy, be secure, be strong, be forgiven and forgiving, be loved and loving, be God’s.” And once we had heard all this, once our ears had been opened to hear Jesus, how might he want our tongue to be released? What might he want us to say? The same.
Many of us are a bit deaf. Many of us have an impediment in our speech. Jesus healed then. Jesus can heal now.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Jesus Was Off - Day 27
By “off,” I mean crazy.
That is what many of his hometown folks thought of him. And that is what his family did as well. Word gets to them about what Jesus is doing. Initially, they probably felt some pride, but then as the stories continued to circulate and as his deeds continued to accumulate they must have become quite concerned, even alarmed.
So, they decide to go get Jesus, bring him home, give him a rest, quiet him. As scripture says, “Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, ‘Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.’ And he replied, ‘Who are my mother and my brothers?’ And looking at those who sat around him, he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.’” (Mark 3: 31-35)
His family never made it inside. Word gets to them about what Jesus says, about how he redefined his family, and they slink away. If they were worried before about him, now they must have been downright convinced that Jesus lost it somewhere along the way.
If you live by the world’s standards, Jesus is off. If you live to be safe, if you live to get more, if you live for power or control or money or things, Jesus is off.
But maybe he is not the one who is off. Maybe any other way besides the “Jesus Way” is what is off. Maybe God designed us to live like Jesus, be like Jesus, think like Jesus. Maybe his off is the true "on." Maybe his craziness is the real sanity. Love your enemy—crazy or sane? Give away your stuff—crazy or sane? Turn the other cheek—crazy or sane? Be a peacemaker—crazy or sane?
At some point you must decide. What is sanity? What is craziness? As for me, I would rather be crazy with Jesus. How about you?
That is what many of his hometown folks thought of him. And that is what his family did as well. Word gets to them about what Jesus is doing. Initially, they probably felt some pride, but then as the stories continued to circulate and as his deeds continued to accumulate they must have become quite concerned, even alarmed.
So, they decide to go get Jesus, bring him home, give him a rest, quiet him. As scripture says, “Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, ‘Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.’ And he replied, ‘Who are my mother and my brothers?’ And looking at those who sat around him, he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.’” (Mark 3: 31-35)
His family never made it inside. Word gets to them about what Jesus says, about how he redefined his family, and they slink away. If they were worried before about him, now they must have been downright convinced that Jesus lost it somewhere along the way.
If you live by the world’s standards, Jesus is off. If you live to be safe, if you live to get more, if you live for power or control or money or things, Jesus is off.
But maybe he is not the one who is off. Maybe any other way besides the “Jesus Way” is what is off. Maybe God designed us to live like Jesus, be like Jesus, think like Jesus. Maybe his off is the true "on." Maybe his craziness is the real sanity. Love your enemy—crazy or sane? Give away your stuff—crazy or sane? Turn the other cheek—crazy or sane? Be a peacemaker—crazy or sane?
At some point you must decide. What is sanity? What is craziness? As for me, I would rather be crazy with Jesus. How about you?
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