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.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
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?
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