I recently had the opportunity to preach on Mark 1:29-45. I chose to reflect on the verses which expose Jesus' decision to depart so soon. I reflected on this as a pattern. He often leaves sooner than any would want him to. He even leaves the disciples, alone in Jerusalem, when he submits to the arrest of the angry mob.
There is another interesting twist in this section of Mark's gospel; one always catches my attention, but not long enough to be developed into a sermon.
Jesus leaves the synagogue, enters the house of Simon, whose mother-in-law is sick. Jesus reaches his hand out to her, and the fever leaves her, immediately. Not so out-of-the-ordinary, when it is Jesus at the center of the activity. Here in Mark 1, he heals many persons.
What gives me pause is the next verse. It says that Jesus took her by the hand and lifted her up. The fever left her, "and she served them." What does that mean, "She served them"?
The image which comes to my mind is that of my mother-in-law who would overextend herself in order to make family celebrations meaningful. Of one who serves up a wonderful meal, completed by the opportunity for the guests to sit and relax and enjoy each others company.
Jesus comes into this woman's home. She is ill. He heals her. And immediately she rises and begins to serve. There is no pause for reveling in the good fortune that has come her way; there is no analysis of why she was the one to receive this expression of grace. She rises, and begins to serve.
I would hope we would all learn a lesson from this quick little reference. We too have been blessed with expressions of God's loving hand, we too have been made well. What do we do now? Go on with our individual lives? Parade around campus saying "Look at what I got from God?" Or do we rise and begin to serve?
As Christians we profess a God who takes on the form of the servant and gives all he has. As Christians, as followers of the one who does this, we too are called to serve. It is our place and or purpose to serve.
Rise, and meet the day which lies before you. Rise and begin your service.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Devotion - Tuesday, February 28
My reading continued into I Corinthians 1. Today it was verses 20-31. Paul continues to speak of the "folly" or "foolishness" of the Gospel.
G.K. Chesterton (1874-1936) writes in Orthodoxy, "Mysticism keeps men (sic) sane. As long as you have mystery you have health; when you destroy mystery you create morbidity." The mystery which lies at the center of the Gospel story keeps us sane; it aligns us with God's wonderfully mysterious ways. When we deny mystery, the incarnation as well as the resurrection become unfathomable.
This is not a denial of intellectual inquiry. But it is a reminder that the wisdom of which Paul writes in I Corinthians 1 is not the same as accumulated knowledge.
Returning to Chesterton, he writes, "The ordinary man (sic) has always been sane because the ordinary man has always been a mystic. He has permitted the twilight. He has one foot on earth and the other in fairyland. He has always left himself free to doubt his gods; but (unlike the agnostic of to-day) free also to believe in them. He has cared more for truth than for consistency. If he saw two truths that seemed to contradict each other, he would take the two truths and the contradiction along with them."
We should never mis-hear the Gospel's talk of "true wisdom" and think it is telling us to forsake our academic pursuits. Nothing could be more wrong. We should hear in the Gospel story an invitation to seek not only the things physical, but also those things which are mystical. Who can explain the attraction which is expressed as love? How can you make sense of an undying allegiance to Tigers (particularly when placed opposite a Gamecock)? My belief in God is as solid as the chair upon which I am sitting, but it is as mysterious as the scent arising from my morning coffee.
"We preach Christ crucified." Folly to a great many others. But for us it is the power of God made real and manifested in our lives.
G.K. Chesterton (1874-1936) writes in Orthodoxy, "Mysticism keeps men (sic) sane. As long as you have mystery you have health; when you destroy mystery you create morbidity." The mystery which lies at the center of the Gospel story keeps us sane; it aligns us with God's wonderfully mysterious ways. When we deny mystery, the incarnation as well as the resurrection become unfathomable.
This is not a denial of intellectual inquiry. But it is a reminder that the wisdom of which Paul writes in I Corinthians 1 is not the same as accumulated knowledge.
Returning to Chesterton, he writes, "The ordinary man (sic) has always been sane because the ordinary man has always been a mystic. He has permitted the twilight. He has one foot on earth and the other in fairyland. He has always left himself free to doubt his gods; but (unlike the agnostic of to-day) free also to believe in them. He has cared more for truth than for consistency. If he saw two truths that seemed to contradict each other, he would take the two truths and the contradiction along with them."
We should never mis-hear the Gospel's talk of "true wisdom" and think it is telling us to forsake our academic pursuits. Nothing could be more wrong. We should hear in the Gospel story an invitation to seek not only the things physical, but also those things which are mystical. Who can explain the attraction which is expressed as love? How can you make sense of an undying allegiance to Tigers (particularly when placed opposite a Gamecock)? My belief in God is as solid as the chair upon which I am sitting, but it is as mysterious as the scent arising from my morning coffee.
"We preach Christ crucified." Folly to a great many others. But for us it is the power of God made real and manifested in our lives.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Devotion - Monday, February 27
"For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing."
I came full circle this morning, reflecting on this verse from I Corinthians 1.17. Paul is making his introductory remarks to the church in Corinth. We know (from our study of this letter) that he will soon be pointing out to them the ways in which some members of the community have fallen away from the teachings he had set before them.
Is he saying, in the verse above, that as a result of their rejection, they will be left to perish? Is he implying that "the cross" is scorned or rejected by some?
Or might he be lamenting the situation as he sees it. There is this wonderful opportunity set before the Corinthians (the same opportunity set before us.) This is the chance to experience life as God would have us experience it. This is the opportunity to live life united with God and joined with all God's creation. But it comes packaged in "the word of the cross". And our aversion to that symbol prevents us from approaching. We find ourselves positioned before the opportunity, but we turn away, thinking it to be "folly."
Yes, it seems to be folly, that God would set aside the heavens in order to be among us. Yes, it appears to be folly that God would die - even die a criminal's death. It seems strange, and odd, but it is the way.
How many other times, in our daily lives, will the way of God seem strange or odd? Do we not miss the opportunity to live as God would have us live, because that way would look foolish to so many others? Give my money to some guy who shows up at the church door? Offer a ride to the person staying along side the highway? Spend my precious few hours at the after-school program for struggling students? Love my enemy and pray for those who hate me?
"For the way of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to use who are being saved it is the power of God."
I came full circle this morning, reflecting on this verse from I Corinthians 1.17. Paul is making his introductory remarks to the church in Corinth. We know (from our study of this letter) that he will soon be pointing out to them the ways in which some members of the community have fallen away from the teachings he had set before them.
Is he saying, in the verse above, that as a result of their rejection, they will be left to perish? Is he implying that "the cross" is scorned or rejected by some?
Or might he be lamenting the situation as he sees it. There is this wonderful opportunity set before the Corinthians (the same opportunity set before us.) This is the chance to experience life as God would have us experience it. This is the opportunity to live life united with God and joined with all God's creation. But it comes packaged in "the word of the cross". And our aversion to that symbol prevents us from approaching. We find ourselves positioned before the opportunity, but we turn away, thinking it to be "folly."
Yes, it seems to be folly, that God would set aside the heavens in order to be among us. Yes, it appears to be folly that God would die - even die a criminal's death. It seems strange, and odd, but it is the way.
How many other times, in our daily lives, will the way of God seem strange or odd? Do we not miss the opportunity to live as God would have us live, because that way would look foolish to so many others? Give my money to some guy who shows up at the church door? Offer a ride to the person staying along side the highway? Spend my precious few hours at the after-school program for struggling students? Love my enemy and pray for those who hate me?
"For the way of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to use who are being saved it is the power of God."
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Sermon - Lent 1
Mark 1.9-15
“Get Me Out!”
I subscribe to a study guide on the Sunday lessons, which is administered by my good buddy at VA Tech (Pastor Bill King.) This week’s material was actually prepared by the pastor with whom I have visited during our trips to Germany (Pastor Scott Moore.) Scott occasionally writes for the series, which is called “Faith Lens,” and it is always interesting to get the perspective of someone living in another part of the world. We too often assume that the same words will mean the same thing to everyone. This is often not the case. And this week Scott reflected on the appointed lessons, throwing in bits of information from Europe.
Maybe you heard about this. I had not. And evidently it is causing quite a stir. Twelve years ago, in the year 2000, Rene LeBouvier, asked the Roman Catholic Church, in which he had been baptized as an infant, to revoke his baptism. He had grown uncomfortable with the Church’s teaching and he wanted to disavow any association with it. So, he asked to be “de-baptized.” As you might expect, he was told, by the Church, that they couldn’t do that. Not to be deterred, he asked again, and with a second denial. Finally, LeBouvier took his case to the courts. He filed a suit against the Church and in 2011 the French Court ruled in his favor, siting the right of an individual to “revoke their membership” from any organization.
Had any of you heard about this? Seems that it is a trend which continues. Scott noted that in 2010, the Roman Catholic Church in Belgium reported 2,000 requests for “de-baptism.”
“De-baptism”? What would that look like? How would you do it? Who would do it? Would the person making the request return to the font, as a priest or pastor wiped their brow with a sham-wow?
Okay, that is an oversimplification. Mr. LeBouvier was not asking to have the water removed, he was asking for an end to the relationship. He no longer wanted to be associated, in any way, with the Church.
But if that was all he wanted, all he had to do was to simply stop attending, or fail to provide a current address, right? After time, the Church would lose track of him and stop sending newsletters. Give them a few more years and they would no longer write their name on a box of offering envelops and leave them in the narthex for him to pick up. Maybe Mr. LeBouvier realized that there was something more to this whole baptism thing. Maybe he understood, maybe even better than we, that something more is involved here than merely remembering that at some point in time some water was poured over our heads and some words spoken on our behalf.
Something had happened. Something which he (and those other 2,000 folks in Belgium) wanted to undo.
Something happens to Jesus, when he is baptized. If this were a lecture (45 minutes in length) rather than a sermon (shooting for somewhere around 12 minutes) we would need to address the difference between the baptism received by Jesus and our baptism into the death and resurrection of Jesus. For now, just realize there is a difference. For now, just remember that discussion where Jesus (not in Mark but in the Gospel of John) says it was necessary for him to receive John’s baptism. Somehow, someway it sets the pattern for water and word to be our entry point to the community which Jesus establishes. Even though Jesus’ baptism differs from the baptism we have experienced, none-the-less something happens to Jesus when he is baptized – something which can’t be un-done, something which changes everything.
Jesus is baptized. He sees the very Spirit ascending like a dove. And he hears a voice from heaven saying to him, “You are my Beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.” Wow – that is a lot to be happening. But the action does not stop there. Before the drops of water have evaporated from his forehead, that same Spirit which had descended upon him is now driving him out, into the wilderness where for forty days he will be tempted by Satan.
Out there, in the wilderness, with the wild beast, and Satan tempting him at every turn - one has to ask, whether around day seventeen, Jesus began to entertain the notion of asking for an un-doing what had happened to him back there in the Jordan River. What had happened to him was cool, back then. But whatever it was that had happened to him had resulted in a lot of uncomfortable days since then.
The theology of our Church and the catechism which each of you carefully studied during Confirmation Ministry is very clear on this. In baptism God reaches out and claims us as his own. In baptism, we are assured that we never again need to fear the devil or his empty promises. In baptism we are set free from our worry about death. Something happens to us when we are baptized. It is the descent of that dove onto each of us and the whispering (or shouting) into our ear that we are God’s beloved child. Good stuff; great stuff.
Before the water evaporates from our brow we begin to understand that as a child of God it is now our job to tell others the Good News. As one who has been claimed by Christ, we become capable of seeing how far the world has strayed from the beautiful creation which God intends. We find ourselves, driven into a wilderness where self-advancement and self-gratification are given greater attention than caring for the poor and uplifting the lowly. We come to understand and to realize that being claimed by Christ means involvement in the work which Christ came to accomplish.
We may not ask to be “de-baptized,” but we certainly do a wonderful job of ignoring the promises we made to God.
Covenants – such a baptismal covenant – are built upon promises made it both directions. God has made promises to us – and God keeps those promises. All too often, we fall short, on our end of the promise keeping.
I don’t know if there will be a continued increase in the number of persons who will request to be de-baptized. I hope not. It raises far too many complicated, theological questions. But I do think that those who ask to be de-baptized may be more cognizant of what it is that was done to them, one upon a time, back there. They may understand, even better than too many of us, that it isn’t as simple as pretending that it never happened. You can’t just do that.
Neither do I know the degree to which your baptism has changed the events and/or the direction your life has taken. At the risk of sounding judgmental I would say that unless you can identify a few such changes you might have something to think about this week, and something to talk about in your next confession.
Something happens when God’s Word is spoken and God’s will is done. The degree to which it happens in your life, or my life – well, that seems to be (in some odd way) correlated with our willingness to participate.
Something has happened in lives of each and every one of us. During this season of Lent we might look to see what is happening as a result.
Amen.
“Get Me Out!”
I subscribe to a study guide on the Sunday lessons, which is administered by my good buddy at VA Tech (Pastor Bill King.) This week’s material was actually prepared by the pastor with whom I have visited during our trips to Germany (Pastor Scott Moore.) Scott occasionally writes for the series, which is called “Faith Lens,” and it is always interesting to get the perspective of someone living in another part of the world. We too often assume that the same words will mean the same thing to everyone. This is often not the case. And this week Scott reflected on the appointed lessons, throwing in bits of information from Europe.
Maybe you heard about this. I had not. And evidently it is causing quite a stir. Twelve years ago, in the year 2000, Rene LeBouvier, asked the Roman Catholic Church, in which he had been baptized as an infant, to revoke his baptism. He had grown uncomfortable with the Church’s teaching and he wanted to disavow any association with it. So, he asked to be “de-baptized.” As you might expect, he was told, by the Church, that they couldn’t do that. Not to be deterred, he asked again, and with a second denial. Finally, LeBouvier took his case to the courts. He filed a suit against the Church and in 2011 the French Court ruled in his favor, siting the right of an individual to “revoke their membership” from any organization.
Had any of you heard about this? Seems that it is a trend which continues. Scott noted that in 2010, the Roman Catholic Church in Belgium reported 2,000 requests for “de-baptism.”
“De-baptism”? What would that look like? How would you do it? Who would do it? Would the person making the request return to the font, as a priest or pastor wiped their brow with a sham-wow?
Okay, that is an oversimplification. Mr. LeBouvier was not asking to have the water removed, he was asking for an end to the relationship. He no longer wanted to be associated, in any way, with the Church.
But if that was all he wanted, all he had to do was to simply stop attending, or fail to provide a current address, right? After time, the Church would lose track of him and stop sending newsletters. Give them a few more years and they would no longer write their name on a box of offering envelops and leave them in the narthex for him to pick up. Maybe Mr. LeBouvier realized that there was something more to this whole baptism thing. Maybe he understood, maybe even better than we, that something more is involved here than merely remembering that at some point in time some water was poured over our heads and some words spoken on our behalf.
Something had happened. Something which he (and those other 2,000 folks in Belgium) wanted to undo.
Something happens to Jesus, when he is baptized. If this were a lecture (45 minutes in length) rather than a sermon (shooting for somewhere around 12 minutes) we would need to address the difference between the baptism received by Jesus and our baptism into the death and resurrection of Jesus. For now, just realize there is a difference. For now, just remember that discussion where Jesus (not in Mark but in the Gospel of John) says it was necessary for him to receive John’s baptism. Somehow, someway it sets the pattern for water and word to be our entry point to the community which Jesus establishes. Even though Jesus’ baptism differs from the baptism we have experienced, none-the-less something happens to Jesus when he is baptized – something which can’t be un-done, something which changes everything.
Jesus is baptized. He sees the very Spirit ascending like a dove. And he hears a voice from heaven saying to him, “You are my Beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.” Wow – that is a lot to be happening. But the action does not stop there. Before the drops of water have evaporated from his forehead, that same Spirit which had descended upon him is now driving him out, into the wilderness where for forty days he will be tempted by Satan.
Out there, in the wilderness, with the wild beast, and Satan tempting him at every turn - one has to ask, whether around day seventeen, Jesus began to entertain the notion of asking for an un-doing what had happened to him back there in the Jordan River. What had happened to him was cool, back then. But whatever it was that had happened to him had resulted in a lot of uncomfortable days since then.
The theology of our Church and the catechism which each of you carefully studied during Confirmation Ministry is very clear on this. In baptism God reaches out and claims us as his own. In baptism, we are assured that we never again need to fear the devil or his empty promises. In baptism we are set free from our worry about death. Something happens to us when we are baptized. It is the descent of that dove onto each of us and the whispering (or shouting) into our ear that we are God’s beloved child. Good stuff; great stuff.
Before the water evaporates from our brow we begin to understand that as a child of God it is now our job to tell others the Good News. As one who has been claimed by Christ, we become capable of seeing how far the world has strayed from the beautiful creation which God intends. We find ourselves, driven into a wilderness where self-advancement and self-gratification are given greater attention than caring for the poor and uplifting the lowly. We come to understand and to realize that being claimed by Christ means involvement in the work which Christ came to accomplish.
We may not ask to be “de-baptized,” but we certainly do a wonderful job of ignoring the promises we made to God.
Covenants – such a baptismal covenant – are built upon promises made it both directions. God has made promises to us – and God keeps those promises. All too often, we fall short, on our end of the promise keeping.
I don’t know if there will be a continued increase in the number of persons who will request to be de-baptized. I hope not. It raises far too many complicated, theological questions. But I do think that those who ask to be de-baptized may be more cognizant of what it is that was done to them, one upon a time, back there. They may understand, even better than too many of us, that it isn’t as simple as pretending that it never happened. You can’t just do that.
Neither do I know the degree to which your baptism has changed the events and/or the direction your life has taken. At the risk of sounding judgmental I would say that unless you can identify a few such changes you might have something to think about this week, and something to talk about in your next confession.
Something happens when God’s Word is spoken and God’s will is done. The degree to which it happens in your life, or my life – well, that seems to be (in some odd way) correlated with our willingness to participate.
Something has happened in lives of each and every one of us. During this season of Lent we might look to see what is happening as a result.
Amen.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Devotion - Thursday, February 23
In John 17, Jesus is preparing the disciples for his death. There is a rather long section of John referred to as Jesus' "High Priestly Prayer," which recounts the message he came to share, the way he reveals, and his hope for those whom he leaves behind.
John 17:3 reads: "And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent."
When asked to define or speak of "eternal life," we tend to slip into comments which speak of time or an amount of time. There may be references to a place or to a veiled location. Here, Jesus speaks of eternal life as a relationship. Eternal life is knowing God.
Christian writers will speak of the "already - not yet" aspect of our faith. We already have what we need; we are already saved. Yet to come is the fullness of that banquet; yet to come is a clearer vision of the relationship God has established with us.
Eternal life is an already-not yet thing. There is a part of it which lies out there, somewhere. But there is another part (an important part) which is already ours. It comes to us in our knowledge of God. It is ours by virtue of our relationship with Jesus.
As I begin my Lenten journey, I want to keep in mind that I strive for an ending which is already given me. I seek a destination to which I have already arrived. Eternal life is mine, as much today as it ever will be. And it is my experience of this life is what pulls me forward to deepen my participation.
John 17:3 reads: "And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent."
When asked to define or speak of "eternal life," we tend to slip into comments which speak of time or an amount of time. There may be references to a place or to a veiled location. Here, Jesus speaks of eternal life as a relationship. Eternal life is knowing God.
Christian writers will speak of the "already - not yet" aspect of our faith. We already have what we need; we are already saved. Yet to come is the fullness of that banquet; yet to come is a clearer vision of the relationship God has established with us.
Eternal life is an already-not yet thing. There is a part of it which lies out there, somewhere. But there is another part (an important part) which is already ours. It comes to us in our knowledge of God. It is ours by virtue of our relationship with Jesus.
As I begin my Lenten journey, I want to keep in mind that I strive for an ending which is already given me. I seek a destination to which I have already arrived. Eternal life is mine, as much today as it ever will be. And it is my experience of this life is what pulls me forward to deepen my participation.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Devotion - Ash Wednesday
And so begins our forty day journey to Jerusalem, to Golgotha, and to the tomb. These forty days were set aside in the early Church as a final period of preparation for baptism. They were set aside as an opportunity for those who had already entered a covenant with God to renew their devotion and to once more experience in their own lives the way of Jesus.
The way of Jesus leads us to a wonder place. It brings us into God's presence; it plants us firmly in God's gracious heart. It is a wonderful place to be. It is "heaven" in more ways than words can express. The way of Jesus leads us to a wonderful place.
The way of Jesus leads us through some desolate and painful way-points.
"The World" continues to oppose the way of Jesus. The conventional wisdom, drummed into our heads and hearts at every turn tells us to seek our own advancement. The business model operative in our culture is to climb to the top, stepping over or even stepping on those who would impede our assent.
Hording is openly encouraged. We collect more toys (insert gadgets or smart phones or impressive cars) in order to impress others or distinguish ourselves. We look for the right opportunity to buy low and sell high. The Biblical language for that was making the "ephah small and the shekel great". (Amos 8.5)
The way of Jesus begins each day with a prayer asking, "How might I help my neighbor," and ends with a confession for all the ways in which I had (intentionally and unintentionally) given offense. These actions were not to rip at one's self-esteem, rather they were to move us ever closer to that glorious existence referred to in the Creeds as the "Communion of the Saints." We seek unity with God's creation and all of God's children.
May these forty days move us away from our selfish and self-serving tendencies and re-unite us with the One who understands what a full life really looks like. May these forty days allow us to glimpse the heaven which is all around us; a heaven we would be able to see if only we were to look through the eyes of Jesus rather than through the rose colored glasses of a world become drunk on its own advancements.
And so, let these days begin.
The way of Jesus leads us to a wonder place. It brings us into God's presence; it plants us firmly in God's gracious heart. It is a wonderful place to be. It is "heaven" in more ways than words can express. The way of Jesus leads us to a wonderful place.
The way of Jesus leads us through some desolate and painful way-points.
"The World" continues to oppose the way of Jesus. The conventional wisdom, drummed into our heads and hearts at every turn tells us to seek our own advancement. The business model operative in our culture is to climb to the top, stepping over or even stepping on those who would impede our assent.
Hording is openly encouraged. We collect more toys (insert gadgets or smart phones or impressive cars) in order to impress others or distinguish ourselves. We look for the right opportunity to buy low and sell high. The Biblical language for that was making the "ephah small and the shekel great". (Amos 8.5)
The way of Jesus begins each day with a prayer asking, "How might I help my neighbor," and ends with a confession for all the ways in which I had (intentionally and unintentionally) given offense. These actions were not to rip at one's self-esteem, rather they were to move us ever closer to that glorious existence referred to in the Creeds as the "Communion of the Saints." We seek unity with God's creation and all of God's children.
May these forty days move us away from our selfish and self-serving tendencies and re-unite us with the One who understands what a full life really looks like. May these forty days allow us to glimpse the heaven which is all around us; a heaven we would be able to see if only we were to look through the eyes of Jesus rather than through the rose colored glasses of a world become drunk on its own advancements.
And so, let these days begin.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Devotion - Shrove Tuesday
An e-devotion I read spoke of how our image of God affects the way we relate to God. Each of us carries an image of God. If that image is of a loving parent, we turn to God for comfort and advise. If that image is of a tyrant, we do all we can to avoid the wrath.
The way we approach Shrove Tuesday may also reveal to us the image we have of God. Is this "one last day to do all the things we can't do once Lent begins"? Such an attitude might reveal an image of God as one who robs us of our fun and pleasure. If we look on this day as the day when we must clear away all that would impede the start of a special time with God, perhaps we see God as a welcomed guest.
It seems not to be healthy, to one's faith nor to one's life, to think of God as one who prevents us from having fun or doing the things everyone else gets to do. If we think of the Christian life as a life denied of this pleasure or that activity we are probably operating out an image of God as overbearing parent.
Yes - Jesus calls us to sacrifice. Jesus calls upon us to give. And Jesus warns us that the way is narrow. But all that is true in the same way that Archie Manning came to be the MVP of the Super Bowl. Singularity of purpose means setting aside those things which would stand between us and a goal which we desire. I don't think Manning complains about hours in the gym or tossing a football.
There are things which are not part of my life. Some folks consider those things to be "fun." But in removing those things from my life, I have found a joy which far surpasses any missed immediate gratification.
On Shrove Tuesday, i am not making one last run of it; I am sweeping out of my house those things which would make it more difficult for Christ to arrive.
The way we approach Shrove Tuesday may also reveal to us the image we have of God. Is this "one last day to do all the things we can't do once Lent begins"? Such an attitude might reveal an image of God as one who robs us of our fun and pleasure. If we look on this day as the day when we must clear away all that would impede the start of a special time with God, perhaps we see God as a welcomed guest.
It seems not to be healthy, to one's faith nor to one's life, to think of God as one who prevents us from having fun or doing the things everyone else gets to do. If we think of the Christian life as a life denied of this pleasure or that activity we are probably operating out an image of God as overbearing parent.
Yes - Jesus calls us to sacrifice. Jesus calls upon us to give. And Jesus warns us that the way is narrow. But all that is true in the same way that Archie Manning came to be the MVP of the Super Bowl. Singularity of purpose means setting aside those things which would stand between us and a goal which we desire. I don't think Manning complains about hours in the gym or tossing a football.
There are things which are not part of my life. Some folks consider those things to be "fun." But in removing those things from my life, I have found a joy which far surpasses any missed immediate gratification.
On Shrove Tuesday, i am not making one last run of it; I am sweeping out of my house those things which would make it more difficult for Christ to arrive.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Devotion - Monday, February 20
I hope you were able to share in yesterday's celebration of Transfiguration Sunday. The final Sunday in Epiphany is set aside for the greatest story of the light coming into our world to shatter the darkness. While only Matthew and Luke speak of the birth of Jesus, and only Matthew has the story of the visit of the Magi, all the Synoptic Gospels tell of the events when Jesus goes up on the mountain top and the dazzling light transforms him.
The placement of this story at the end of Epiphany and just before the start of Lent is intentional. Jesus comes down from that mountain and he begins to make his way to Jerusalem. He instructs his disciples that he will enter Jerusalem, be betrayed, and crucified.
This Light, which comes, reveals what it is that God will do to overcome our inability to see.
My Transfiguration celebration occurred with a group of students participating in the regional Lutheran student retreat. The church/campus ministry which served as our host has among its LCM group two young women who are blind. Yesterday, these two women assisted the worship service; one by reading the lessons, the other by leading us in prayer.
I don't know whether it was just their turn to fill these roles, whether they were asked to fill these roles because the LCM group was there, or if they were intentionally selected because of the Transfiguration Sunday texts. But it was powerful to hear them read so many words making reference to light, and seeing, and brightness.
It is too simple a thing to say that all those lessons refer to "spiritual sight" and to "seeing with one's heart." I found myself contemplating all the ways in which we speak of the experience of God as if it could be contained in the input of one of our senses. Sunday the reference was to "seeing the light." On Thursday, in a presentation to the Baptist campus ministry group, I read Paul's words about "hearing the good news," ignoring in my comments the issue of being hearing impaired.
The presence of Christ, which breaks into our life is a total experience which cannot be limited, cannot be denied. If we understand it merely as something we "see," then we will loose our confidence when the vision fades. If we think of it as something we "hear," what is to prevent us from switching our allegiance when we hear something more pleasing? We feel the baptismal waters flow over our heads, and we taste the bread and wine of the Eucharist, but these too become memories subject to re-interpretation.
We may refer to it as a "light," but it is more than an opportunity to see. The light not only gives vision, it transforms. It changes everything.
I am grateful for Stephanie and Amy and their presence with us this weekend. Their participation in yesterday's worship service allowed me to more fully experience what it is that is happening to us, as we close out our Epiphany journey and prepare for the days of Lent ahead.
The placement of this story at the end of Epiphany and just before the start of Lent is intentional. Jesus comes down from that mountain and he begins to make his way to Jerusalem. He instructs his disciples that he will enter Jerusalem, be betrayed, and crucified.
This Light, which comes, reveals what it is that God will do to overcome our inability to see.
My Transfiguration celebration occurred with a group of students participating in the regional Lutheran student retreat. The church/campus ministry which served as our host has among its LCM group two young women who are blind. Yesterday, these two women assisted the worship service; one by reading the lessons, the other by leading us in prayer.
I don't know whether it was just their turn to fill these roles, whether they were asked to fill these roles because the LCM group was there, or if they were intentionally selected because of the Transfiguration Sunday texts. But it was powerful to hear them read so many words making reference to light, and seeing, and brightness.
It is too simple a thing to say that all those lessons refer to "spiritual sight" and to "seeing with one's heart." I found myself contemplating all the ways in which we speak of the experience of God as if it could be contained in the input of one of our senses. Sunday the reference was to "seeing the light." On Thursday, in a presentation to the Baptist campus ministry group, I read Paul's words about "hearing the good news," ignoring in my comments the issue of being hearing impaired.
The presence of Christ, which breaks into our life is a total experience which cannot be limited, cannot be denied. If we understand it merely as something we "see," then we will loose our confidence when the vision fades. If we think of it as something we "hear," what is to prevent us from switching our allegiance when we hear something more pleasing? We feel the baptismal waters flow over our heads, and we taste the bread and wine of the Eucharist, but these too become memories subject to re-interpretation.
We may refer to it as a "light," but it is more than an opportunity to see. The light not only gives vision, it transforms. It changes everything.
I am grateful for Stephanie and Amy and their presence with us this weekend. Their participation in yesterday's worship service allowed me to more fully experience what it is that is happening to us, as we close out our Epiphany journey and prepare for the days of Lent ahead.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Devotion - Thursday, February 16
"How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Christ, tell us plainly."
I hear this comment, in slightly differing forms, in practically every pastoral conversation. "If only I knew for sure," is another popular version. Or the ever popular, "I just wish God would prove His existence." We want to know, plainly.
The opening comment is from John 10. The religious leaders of Jesus' day (who were never in favor of Jesus) are arguing among themselves. They can't decide what to make of this fellow, Jesus. And they are trying every way they can to hold on to the way things have always been. The conversation arose after Jesus restores sight to a man born blind. "Is he of God?" "Does he have a demon?" They come to him, asking for him to tell them "plainly."
Jesus' response is this, "I told you, and you do not believe."
We all know that "words are cheap." Jesus backs up his words by showing the presence of God - in doing things like healing the man born blind. And yet, they would not receive his reply, or hear his answer.
Please do not hear these words as some sort of a scolding for asking questions about God's existence or a condemnation for wanting plain answers to the essential questions. I am saying anything but that. The simple and direct thought intended in these paragraphs is to expose the roadblocks we place before God and God's attempts to assure us. Jesus tells us; Jesus assures us. We find it difficult to believe.
Believing (I prefer the phrase "having faith") is like a trust fall. It is a question of whether we can let go and trust that we will be caught. It means placing our eggs in one basket, all the while knowing that it might be the wrong basket, but it is the one we choose. It is the act of trusting/believing/having faith which brings us the plain answers we seek. Yes, it is circular reasoning. But faith is its own assurance.
I hear this comment, in slightly differing forms, in practically every pastoral conversation. "If only I knew for sure," is another popular version. Or the ever popular, "I just wish God would prove His existence." We want to know, plainly.
The opening comment is from John 10. The religious leaders of Jesus' day (who were never in favor of Jesus) are arguing among themselves. They can't decide what to make of this fellow, Jesus. And they are trying every way they can to hold on to the way things have always been. The conversation arose after Jesus restores sight to a man born blind. "Is he of God?" "Does he have a demon?" They come to him, asking for him to tell them "plainly."
Jesus' response is this, "I told you, and you do not believe."
We all know that "words are cheap." Jesus backs up his words by showing the presence of God - in doing things like healing the man born blind. And yet, they would not receive his reply, or hear his answer.
Please do not hear these words as some sort of a scolding for asking questions about God's existence or a condemnation for wanting plain answers to the essential questions. I am saying anything but that. The simple and direct thought intended in these paragraphs is to expose the roadblocks we place before God and God's attempts to assure us. Jesus tells us; Jesus assures us. We find it difficult to believe.
Believing (I prefer the phrase "having faith") is like a trust fall. It is a question of whether we can let go and trust that we will be caught. It means placing our eggs in one basket, all the while knowing that it might be the wrong basket, but it is the one we choose. It is the act of trusting/believing/having faith which brings us the plain answers we seek. Yes, it is circular reasoning. But faith is its own assurance.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Devotion - Wednesday, February 15
None of us are above or beyond the influence of others. Sometimes slowly, sometimes immediately, we absorb the mood, the attitude, the thoughts of those around us. This is particularly true with regard to the professors and teachers who mentor us during our years of study.
There were two theology professors at the seminary I attended. Both were bright, insightful. They also disagreed. All of us took our basic theology courses in our second year of study. It was revealing, by our fourth year, to see how influenced we had been by the professor we had in that second year.
Some of us chose which professor we would take. Others of us simply went with which fit better into our schedule.
Make a choice. Choose who will be in a position of influence in your life. This is reasonable advise for considering your bio-chem professor; it is an all important action with regard to the life-decisions you face during these years of your life.
In John 10, Jesus speaks of himself as the "Good Shepherd." There is the acknowledgement that there are other shepherds. Some of these shepherds are not so "good." They care more about themselves than about the sheep. Jesus speaks of good shepherds as those who give their all, even their life, to protect the sheep. Jesus invites those who hear his voice to join his flock and be cared for (be influenced by) the Good Shepherd.
Making good choices is more likely if we have made good choices. Chose who will be in a position to influence you. Be an imitator of Jesus who never, ever abandoned the world and was constantly engaging those in the world most in need of guidance and care. But he did so after having first cemented his relationship with the One who could guide him into the Kingdom which knows no end.
Listen to the Good Shepherd. Learn his voice.
There were two theology professors at the seminary I attended. Both were bright, insightful. They also disagreed. All of us took our basic theology courses in our second year of study. It was revealing, by our fourth year, to see how influenced we had been by the professor we had in that second year.
Some of us chose which professor we would take. Others of us simply went with which fit better into our schedule.
Make a choice. Choose who will be in a position of influence in your life. This is reasonable advise for considering your bio-chem professor; it is an all important action with regard to the life-decisions you face during these years of your life.
In John 10, Jesus speaks of himself as the "Good Shepherd." There is the acknowledgement that there are other shepherds. Some of these shepherds are not so "good." They care more about themselves than about the sheep. Jesus speaks of good shepherds as those who give their all, even their life, to protect the sheep. Jesus invites those who hear his voice to join his flock and be cared for (be influenced by) the Good Shepherd.
Making good choices is more likely if we have made good choices. Chose who will be in a position to influence you. Be an imitator of Jesus who never, ever abandoned the world and was constantly engaging those in the world most in need of guidance and care. But he did so after having first cemented his relationship with the One who could guide him into the Kingdom which knows no end.
Listen to the Good Shepherd. Learn his voice.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Devotion - Tuesday, February 14
One of the prayers, included as an option for weddings, is for "those for whom love is a stranger." There are many such people, in our world. There are a lot of them among our community.
It isn't that there is no love in their lives; they are deeply loved by God and they are loved (sometimes even more intensely) by their friends and family, But the lack of that "one special person" in their lives contributes to a feeling of being unloved. Love (seemingly) is a stranger to them.
I write all this from the perspective of one who has a life-long partner. Blessed by twenty-nine years of life shared with this person, it might be said to me, "What do you know of such things?"
What I know is that the love which sustains a life-long relationship can never stand alone. That such a love emerges or is built upon other expressions. It is love of God which makes a foundation. It is love of community which provides instruction on compromise. It is love of reunion which demands proficiency in the art of confession and forgiveness. Love of a way of life shows me that I can't get there alone, but need partner(s).
My relationship with Laura is a practice field for the expressions of love which I need to offer. My marriage to her is a celebration of all those other loves being nurtured and well tended.
As the world around us observes Valentine's Day, I hope you will see through all the sickening sweet, but terribly misguided messages of a world which confuses popularity with love. Read today's appointed Epistle lesson - I John - and be reminded that love is not a stranger to any who are part of God's family. And, if you are worried that love might be a stranger in your own life, allow yourself to see a wider spectrum of love.
It isn't that there is no love in their lives; they are deeply loved by God and they are loved (sometimes even more intensely) by their friends and family, But the lack of that "one special person" in their lives contributes to a feeling of being unloved. Love (seemingly) is a stranger to them.
I write all this from the perspective of one who has a life-long partner. Blessed by twenty-nine years of life shared with this person, it might be said to me, "What do you know of such things?"
What I know is that the love which sustains a life-long relationship can never stand alone. That such a love emerges or is built upon other expressions. It is love of God which makes a foundation. It is love of community which provides instruction on compromise. It is love of reunion which demands proficiency in the art of confession and forgiveness. Love of a way of life shows me that I can't get there alone, but need partner(s).
My relationship with Laura is a practice field for the expressions of love which I need to offer. My marriage to her is a celebration of all those other loves being nurtured and well tended.
As the world around us observes Valentine's Day, I hope you will see through all the sickening sweet, but terribly misguided messages of a world which confuses popularity with love. Read today's appointed Epistle lesson - I John - and be reminded that love is not a stranger to any who are part of God's family. And, if you are worried that love might be a stranger in your own life, allow yourself to see a wider spectrum of love.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Devotion - Monday, February 13
Rather than being "up early." today I am "up late." I had the privilege of accompanying seven students to the seminary in Philadelphia for a "Pre-Sem" weekend. One of the presenters made a comment which I was eager to share with all of you.
She is the professor at Southern Seminary who teaches students about preaching. She reminded all of us that the task of a preacher is to proclaim the Word of God, and then step out of the way as the Word does its thing. "The best thing you can do, as a preacher, is allow others to see the effect the Word has had on you, as a guide to the effect that same Word might have on them."
I rise each morning and set about this task not because I am foolish enough to think that I have something worthy of your time. My hope is that this endeavor might allow you to know how real Christ is for me and how each day of my life emerges out of this early morning opportunity for reflection.
The Word of God changes us. It is God's self-expression which called forth the creation and it is the presence of God which guides us into all wisdom. It does marvelous things in our lives. It has done wonderful things to me; and it is my prayer it will accomplish all things in you, as well.
She is the professor at Southern Seminary who teaches students about preaching. She reminded all of us that the task of a preacher is to proclaim the Word of God, and then step out of the way as the Word does its thing. "The best thing you can do, as a preacher, is allow others to see the effect the Word has had on you, as a guide to the effect that same Word might have on them."
I rise each morning and set about this task not because I am foolish enough to think that I have something worthy of your time. My hope is that this endeavor might allow you to know how real Christ is for me and how each day of my life emerges out of this early morning opportunity for reflection.
The Word of God changes us. It is God's self-expression which called forth the creation and it is the presence of God which guides us into all wisdom. It does marvelous things in our lives. It has done wonderful things to me; and it is my prayer it will accomplish all things in you, as well.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Devotion - Thursday, February 9
On the wall of my office is a paper relief, made for me by my wife. Occasionally someone will ask me, "Is that new?" to which I reply, "It was new in 1985."
The image is of a fish - obvious symbol for a pastor's office. The words, cut into the paper, are a bit of a twist on an obvious saying. They are a re-statement of a verse which occurs in today's appointed Gospel lesson.
In John 8:32 we read, "You shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free." The truth does free us. We are freed from anxiety about our futures; we are free from worry about the morrow; we are free from doubts about our self-worth. Jesus speaks these words to those who refused to recognize him and thus were also unwilling or unable to grasp the significance of God's having set aside the heavens in order to make a home among us. If only they could embrace that truth - they would experience the freedom which comes to those who live in God's grace. But, as John 8 unfolds, we see they have taken another path.
Then comes the quote on my paper relief. It is from Pope John XXIII. It reads, "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you miserable."
How miserable it is, as a pastor, to do all I can to assist those who come to my office, all the while realizing the freedom which has been offered to them. How miserable it is, to know the truth and to see so many continue to turn from the truth to embrace something else.
The truth is God hath provided all that is needed. But some of us horde and selfishly deny others a portion. The truth is God sees the value of each. But some experience abuse and rejection and persecution. The truth is God has set aside the heavens in order to make a home for us. But we build a life of our own, devoid of the markers of a faith-filled life.
The truth sets us free. The truth is all too often rejected or opposed or ignored.
Let me acknowledge that for many (perhaps most) of those who come to my office are struggling mightily to embrace the truth. They suffer the effects of living in a world where the truth has not been embraced. I offer these words not as a condemnation but as an invitation. As a pastor friend said, "A different life-story must be brought to the attention of those who struggle." There is another way. God invites us into that way.
Seek the truth; embrace the truth; live the truth. And if you are finding it difficult to know what is meant by "the truth," find a conversation partner or a study group who can help you in the search. Come to my office and look at that paper relief. Meditate on it. That is another invitation.
The image is of a fish - obvious symbol for a pastor's office. The words, cut into the paper, are a bit of a twist on an obvious saying. They are a re-statement of a verse which occurs in today's appointed Gospel lesson.
In John 8:32 we read, "You shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free." The truth does free us. We are freed from anxiety about our futures; we are free from worry about the morrow; we are free from doubts about our self-worth. Jesus speaks these words to those who refused to recognize him and thus were also unwilling or unable to grasp the significance of God's having set aside the heavens in order to make a home among us. If only they could embrace that truth - they would experience the freedom which comes to those who live in God's grace. But, as John 8 unfolds, we see they have taken another path.
Then comes the quote on my paper relief. It is from Pope John XXIII. It reads, "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you miserable."
How miserable it is, as a pastor, to do all I can to assist those who come to my office, all the while realizing the freedom which has been offered to them. How miserable it is, to know the truth and to see so many continue to turn from the truth to embrace something else.
The truth is God hath provided all that is needed. But some of us horde and selfishly deny others a portion. The truth is God sees the value of each. But some experience abuse and rejection and persecution. The truth is God has set aside the heavens in order to make a home for us. But we build a life of our own, devoid of the markers of a faith-filled life.
The truth sets us free. The truth is all too often rejected or opposed or ignored.
Let me acknowledge that for many (perhaps most) of those who come to my office are struggling mightily to embrace the truth. They suffer the effects of living in a world where the truth has not been embraced. I offer these words not as a condemnation but as an invitation. As a pastor friend said, "A different life-story must be brought to the attention of those who struggle." There is another way. God invites us into that way.
Seek the truth; embrace the truth; live the truth. And if you are finding it difficult to know what is meant by "the truth," find a conversation partner or a study group who can help you in the search. Come to my office and look at that paper relief. Meditate on it. That is another invitation.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Devotion - Wednesday, February 8
As a child (even to some degree as an adult) I am troubled by the chain of events in Genesis 27. Issac is old. He thinks he is about to die. He decides it is time to offer a blessing to his son. He calls into his chamber his first-born, Esau. Asks him to go hunt for game, prepare it, bring it to him. When Issac receives his son's offering, he says he will bless him.
Perhaps you remember what happens next. Rebekah, Issac's wife, who favors the second-born, Jacob, cooks a meal just the way Issac likes it, sends Jacob in, disguised and pretending to be Esau, and Jacob gets the blessing of the father.
This "blessing" consists of some words, spoken between two persons. If it was gotten inappropriately, shouldn't there be the opportunity to revoke? And if the blessing was intended for Esau, what would it matter that the words were spoken to Jacob? It is the words or the intention behind the words which matter?
Esau seems to think similar thoughts. When he realizes that Jacob has gotten the blessing he asks Issac if there might be another, or something more.
There is much about customs in the ancient near east which we don't understand. This ritual between father and son is only one such example. We cannot fully pull back the curtain to see everything clearly. However, there are some things we learn, about blessings, and the lack of value they often have in our culture.
First, these "words," spoken by the father, have power. They are not empty gibberish - they mean something. How often we devalue the spoken blessings in our world. We miss the power of these utterances out of some insistence for action. "I had rather see it that hear talk about it," is often our attitude.
Second, blessings are not revokable. They are permanent. Once given, they are never removed. This is language which we sometimes find confusing in the book of Hebrews. The author has to work through how it is that the first covenant is given to Israel, then a second covenant is given to the followers of Jesus. "Surely," he writes, "God's first covenant is not revoked!" Again, in our culture, we have a "What have you done for me lately" attitude. We live with a fear that blessings, previously offered, might be revoked.
Finally, as a youth our young adult, we may glimpse the value of the blessing of our parents, but it is only later in life that we come to understand how important this really is. My experience is that most parents offer such blessings to their children - but it isn't formalized and so the child often "misses" it or fails to realize the impact of what is being offered. This lack of a formal ceremony means the parents don't speak clearly as to what it is they are trying to pass on. This is a bit of advise for the students on this list, as well as the parents - Make it a point to "bless." This is a terribly important expression of the parent-child relationship. The Bible tells us so.
I am still (a bit) confused by the story in Genesis 27. But the confusion becomes opportunity for me to understand something that I might otherwise fail to grasp. The strange chain of events teaches me about blessings and challenges me to learn of their value.
Perhaps you remember what happens next. Rebekah, Issac's wife, who favors the second-born, Jacob, cooks a meal just the way Issac likes it, sends Jacob in, disguised and pretending to be Esau, and Jacob gets the blessing of the father.
This "blessing" consists of some words, spoken between two persons. If it was gotten inappropriately, shouldn't there be the opportunity to revoke? And if the blessing was intended for Esau, what would it matter that the words were spoken to Jacob? It is the words or the intention behind the words which matter?
Esau seems to think similar thoughts. When he realizes that Jacob has gotten the blessing he asks Issac if there might be another, or something more.
There is much about customs in the ancient near east which we don't understand. This ritual between father and son is only one such example. We cannot fully pull back the curtain to see everything clearly. However, there are some things we learn, about blessings, and the lack of value they often have in our culture.
First, these "words," spoken by the father, have power. They are not empty gibberish - they mean something. How often we devalue the spoken blessings in our world. We miss the power of these utterances out of some insistence for action. "I had rather see it that hear talk about it," is often our attitude.
Second, blessings are not revokable. They are permanent. Once given, they are never removed. This is language which we sometimes find confusing in the book of Hebrews. The author has to work through how it is that the first covenant is given to Israel, then a second covenant is given to the followers of Jesus. "Surely," he writes, "God's first covenant is not revoked!" Again, in our culture, we have a "What have you done for me lately" attitude. We live with a fear that blessings, previously offered, might be revoked.
Finally, as a youth our young adult, we may glimpse the value of the blessing of our parents, but it is only later in life that we come to understand how important this really is. My experience is that most parents offer such blessings to their children - but it isn't formalized and so the child often "misses" it or fails to realize the impact of what is being offered. This lack of a formal ceremony means the parents don't speak clearly as to what it is they are trying to pass on. This is a bit of advise for the students on this list, as well as the parents - Make it a point to "bless." This is a terribly important expression of the parent-child relationship. The Bible tells us so.
I am still (a bit) confused by the story in Genesis 27. But the confusion becomes opportunity for me to understand something that I might otherwise fail to grasp. The strange chain of events teaches me about blessings and challenges me to learn of their value.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Devotion - Tuesday, February 7
John 7:53-8:11 contains the story of the woman caught in adultery. The ending of this story is rather well known to us, and often quoted.
Perhaps you have heard, "Let the one without sin be the first to throw a stone at her"?
The crowd is ready to stone her; they turn to Jesus for his consent. So as not to have to look them in the eye (Jesus is not interested in staring anyone down,) Jesus bends over and is doodling in the sand with his finger. He rises, asks his question, and returns to his doodling.
One by one, beginning with the eldest (presumably the ones with sufficient life experiences to understand what Jesus means) they drop their stones and go on their way.
When Jesus looks up and they are all gone, he asks the woman, "Where are they? Has no one condemned you?" She said, "No one, Lord." And Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn you; go,and do not sin again."
Is there a relationship between the lack of a human accuser and Jesus' actions? If there had been someone willing to condemn her, would Jesus have just as readily jumped on that band-wagon?
I am not trying to suggest that God's actions are determined by our actions. Rather I see in this story another reminder that we are often more ready to condemn than is wise. We are inclined to notice the speck in our neighbor's eye while ignoring the beam in our own.
We find ourselves in a time when the name of Jesus is all too often used to condemn. Are we, in such instances, accurately upholding what our Lord has instructed us to do? Or, are we using Jesus to justify our own prejudices and bigotry?
Jesus seems unwilling to jump on those ever-popular band-wagons. Why are we so eager to jump on them?
Jesus came into the world to save,not to condemn. Why do we use his name to condemn?
Perhaps you have heard, "Let the one without sin be the first to throw a stone at her"?
The crowd is ready to stone her; they turn to Jesus for his consent. So as not to have to look them in the eye (Jesus is not interested in staring anyone down,) Jesus bends over and is doodling in the sand with his finger. He rises, asks his question, and returns to his doodling.
One by one, beginning with the eldest (presumably the ones with sufficient life experiences to understand what Jesus means) they drop their stones and go on their way.
When Jesus looks up and they are all gone, he asks the woman, "Where are they? Has no one condemned you?" She said, "No one, Lord." And Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn you; go,and do not sin again."
Is there a relationship between the lack of a human accuser and Jesus' actions? If there had been someone willing to condemn her, would Jesus have just as readily jumped on that band-wagon?
I am not trying to suggest that God's actions are determined by our actions. Rather I see in this story another reminder that we are often more ready to condemn than is wise. We are inclined to notice the speck in our neighbor's eye while ignoring the beam in our own.
We find ourselves in a time when the name of Jesus is all too often used to condemn. Are we, in such instances, accurately upholding what our Lord has instructed us to do? Or, are we using Jesus to justify our own prejudices and bigotry?
Jesus seems unwilling to jump on those ever-popular band-wagons. Why are we so eager to jump on them?
Jesus came into the world to save,not to condemn. Why do we use his name to condemn?
Monday, February 6, 2012
Devotion - Monday, February 6
I have been reading Rob Bell's Love Wins. I recommend it to you. But I do understand why it was so upsetting to so many. He reveals the differences between what the Bible says about "hell" and "being saved" and what we so often hear on the airways or read on bumper stickers.
Coupled with reading his book, I continue to read scripture. Thus, I get a double dose of what it is that God asks of us - and two opportunities to realize that the slogans made popular are not always the whole story.
This morning I was reading from Hebrews, chapter 13. Verse 16 ended up being the one verse I kept returning to during my meditation time. It reads, "Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God."
We are often reminded to "do good." Doing good is lifted by many as the hallmark of a the Christian life. "Sharing what we have," well, that can be a different matter. We instruct children to share. We will share a slice of our pizza. But Hebrews speaks of "sharing" as a "sacrifice." Do we share to the point of it being a sacrifice?
By what measure will we speak of persons as followers of Jesus? What will we identify as markers of a "Christian life"? Does attendance at worship count? How about depth of religious conviction? Surely there is to be some way of considering the deeds one does? We cannot "buy" our way into heaven, but scripture would suggest how generous we are in "sharing" is to be considered, too.
It is one of the painful ironies of Church life that the congregations with the lowest (yes the lowest) median income are the congregations with the most generous record of giving. The more money we amass the less likely we are to make sacrificial gifts.
This one verse in Hebrews 13 isn't the whole of the New Testament message. But it is a part of the message. Sometimes, it is the verses of scripture which are less often memorized which need to be reviewed and re-considered. Is this one of them? For you?
Coupled with reading his book, I continue to read scripture. Thus, I get a double dose of what it is that God asks of us - and two opportunities to realize that the slogans made popular are not always the whole story.
This morning I was reading from Hebrews, chapter 13. Verse 16 ended up being the one verse I kept returning to during my meditation time. It reads, "Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God."
We are often reminded to "do good." Doing good is lifted by many as the hallmark of a the Christian life. "Sharing what we have," well, that can be a different matter. We instruct children to share. We will share a slice of our pizza. But Hebrews speaks of "sharing" as a "sacrifice." Do we share to the point of it being a sacrifice?
By what measure will we speak of persons as followers of Jesus? What will we identify as markers of a "Christian life"? Does attendance at worship count? How about depth of religious conviction? Surely there is to be some way of considering the deeds one does? We cannot "buy" our way into heaven, but scripture would suggest how generous we are in "sharing" is to be considered, too.
It is one of the painful ironies of Church life that the congregations with the lowest (yes the lowest) median income are the congregations with the most generous record of giving. The more money we amass the less likely we are to make sacrificial gifts.
This one verse in Hebrews 13 isn't the whole of the New Testament message. But it is a part of the message. Sometimes, it is the verses of scripture which are less often memorized which need to be reviewed and re-considered. Is this one of them? For you?
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Seremon - February 5, 2012
5th Sunday after the Epiphany
Mark 1:29-39
Searching Is What We Do - (and we do it together0
In the morning, the morning after Jesus had healed Simon's mother-in-law, the morning after the whole town had brought to Jesus their sick, the morning after Jesus had forbidden the demons to speak; ON THAT MORNING, Jesus gets up early and slips out of town, to a deserted place.
Simon and his companions go looking for Jesus and when they found him, they said to him, "Everyone is searching for you." But Jesus doesn't seem to listen to them; he doesn't hear their implied request to return to the village. Instead he says to them, "Let us go on to the neighbor¬ing towns." He departs from that village. He turns from those who were coming out to him. He leaves them, looking and search¬ing.
Does anyone else find this to be confusing behavior? Why would Jesus just up and leave them like that? He doesn't really do anything different in the towns he comes to next, so why is it so important that he continue to move along? Nevertheless, he does go. He departs, leaving these villagers behind to continue their search.
Confusing; but true to form.
I want to suggest to you that this short, little story is the perfect analogy for the way in which we all experience Jesus. Understanding that we experience him this way may then enable us to cease to be confused or frustrated, and maybe even eventually begin to allow us to draw comfort from the pattern.
It is a pattern. He does it time and time again; all the way to Jerusalem where once again he will depart, rather than remain. Why does he leave so soon? Why didn't he spend just a little more time? Why did he leave us here, to continue to search?
And search we do.
In my role as pastor, I am invited into the lives of so many persons. In every instance, I understand the honor associated with such an invitation. I realize that I am being entrusted with the fears and hopes of those who speak with me. I do not mean to over simplify or gloss over the harsh details of any individual conversation, but in the end I find it to be true that every pastoral conversation is an attempt to search or seek. Why did this happen? How am I to understand that? Where is God to be found?
Search¬ing is what we do. We are like those villagers who have had just enough of a glimpse of what it is like to have Jesus with us that we are now scurrying about, looking for the place where we might obtain more of him.
I spent the first half of this week listening to a sociologist professor share her research on religiosity among youth and young adults. “Forget how often they attend worship or youth group,” she said. “The critical issue is the depth of religious conviction.” She didn’t use the language of “searching,” but everything she said reinforced the image of persons seeking God and becoming frustrated when their search proves to be too much. It isn’t that youth and young adults reject the teachings of the Church, they just sort of drift away. Having grown weary of the search and frustrated with a lack of assistance along the way.
I wish I could tell you that there is an end to the search. I wish that I could speak of that ending, telling you what it is going to be like. But that is a mountain top which I have not seen, either. I cannot claim to have been to some promised land, now returned to tell you all about it. Like those villagers, like those who invite me into a pastoral conversation, I too continue to search. Jesus has brushed by; we have glimpsed his presence; and, now we spend our days searching.
Searching is what we to do. Searching is what we do together.
This is another subtle lesson found in today’s Gospel account. It serves us well to point it out, here. When Jesus leaves, he leaves the village with a new purpose. They become united - in their search. “Everyone is searching for you,” the disciples report. Jesus leaves them, but he leaves them in a state where they must learn to depend upon one another. It is very difficult to conduct a search all by yourself; you really do need a search party. Searching, you depend upon those who also search.
As the evidence grows cold, as the event becomes separated by time, it is important to return to those who were there, at the beginning, to hear again, what actually happened. A dependence develops upon those who experienced first hand what it was like to be touched by this healing presence. Stories begin to develop and are retold so as not to forget what it was like to have been there. Stories become essential as the means of telling others what had happened. The retelling becomes the guidance needed in the midst of a continued search.
Perhaps you came here this morning, hoping to find Jesus. You will find him – in the bread and wine. That is the promise of a sacramental theology. If you came, hoping to find him in a different way, you might find him that way, too. But what you have definitely found is a gathering of persons united in our search. We are a community of searchers, a community dependent upon one another. This place is a place where we look for God - but are always in the company of other searchers.
Maybe it is a result of my privilege status that I get to hear and to see the search going on the lives of so many. Perhaps only the pastor is daily reminded that church is not a gathering of devoted disci¬ples so much as it is an assembly of edger seekers. But that is what we are.
Some of us where there when something wonderful and marvel¬ous happened. Some of us have been the recipients of one of those touches in which we were healed or made whole. That is great. But it remains true that those who have had such an experience are the most intense of all seekers - for they know what it is like to encounter God. Those who have been overcome by God's presence and power are all the more likely to be relentless in their search. We are an assembly of seekers. Those who have had recent glimpses share what they have seen so that we might all be strengthened in the search.
In the morning, on that morning, Jesus rose early and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. He left the village behind, he left them to search. He left them in order to go on to neighboring towns, for that is what he came to do. He leaves them, in order to go and find others, so that he might set them forth on their search.
This is the final irony: While Jesus sets these villages off on their search, in the end he is the one who does the finding. The end of our search is the moment at which we are found by God. Our search is conducted in anticipation of the day on which we will be found.
Amen.
Mark 1:29-39
Searching Is What We Do - (and we do it together0
In the morning, the morning after Jesus had healed Simon's mother-in-law, the morning after the whole town had brought to Jesus their sick, the morning after Jesus had forbidden the demons to speak; ON THAT MORNING, Jesus gets up early and slips out of town, to a deserted place.
Simon and his companions go looking for Jesus and when they found him, they said to him, "Everyone is searching for you." But Jesus doesn't seem to listen to them; he doesn't hear their implied request to return to the village. Instead he says to them, "Let us go on to the neighbor¬ing towns." He departs from that village. He turns from those who were coming out to him. He leaves them, looking and search¬ing.
Does anyone else find this to be confusing behavior? Why would Jesus just up and leave them like that? He doesn't really do anything different in the towns he comes to next, so why is it so important that he continue to move along? Nevertheless, he does go. He departs, leaving these villagers behind to continue their search.
Confusing; but true to form.
I want to suggest to you that this short, little story is the perfect analogy for the way in which we all experience Jesus. Understanding that we experience him this way may then enable us to cease to be confused or frustrated, and maybe even eventually begin to allow us to draw comfort from the pattern.
It is a pattern. He does it time and time again; all the way to Jerusalem where once again he will depart, rather than remain. Why does he leave so soon? Why didn't he spend just a little more time? Why did he leave us here, to continue to search?
And search we do.
In my role as pastor, I am invited into the lives of so many persons. In every instance, I understand the honor associated with such an invitation. I realize that I am being entrusted with the fears and hopes of those who speak with me. I do not mean to over simplify or gloss over the harsh details of any individual conversation, but in the end I find it to be true that every pastoral conversation is an attempt to search or seek. Why did this happen? How am I to understand that? Where is God to be found?
Search¬ing is what we do. We are like those villagers who have had just enough of a glimpse of what it is like to have Jesus with us that we are now scurrying about, looking for the place where we might obtain more of him.
I spent the first half of this week listening to a sociologist professor share her research on religiosity among youth and young adults. “Forget how often they attend worship or youth group,” she said. “The critical issue is the depth of religious conviction.” She didn’t use the language of “searching,” but everything she said reinforced the image of persons seeking God and becoming frustrated when their search proves to be too much. It isn’t that youth and young adults reject the teachings of the Church, they just sort of drift away. Having grown weary of the search and frustrated with a lack of assistance along the way.
I wish I could tell you that there is an end to the search. I wish that I could speak of that ending, telling you what it is going to be like. But that is a mountain top which I have not seen, either. I cannot claim to have been to some promised land, now returned to tell you all about it. Like those villagers, like those who invite me into a pastoral conversation, I too continue to search. Jesus has brushed by; we have glimpsed his presence; and, now we spend our days searching.
Searching is what we to do. Searching is what we do together.
This is another subtle lesson found in today’s Gospel account. It serves us well to point it out, here. When Jesus leaves, he leaves the village with a new purpose. They become united - in their search. “Everyone is searching for you,” the disciples report. Jesus leaves them, but he leaves them in a state where they must learn to depend upon one another. It is very difficult to conduct a search all by yourself; you really do need a search party. Searching, you depend upon those who also search.
As the evidence grows cold, as the event becomes separated by time, it is important to return to those who were there, at the beginning, to hear again, what actually happened. A dependence develops upon those who experienced first hand what it was like to be touched by this healing presence. Stories begin to develop and are retold so as not to forget what it was like to have been there. Stories become essential as the means of telling others what had happened. The retelling becomes the guidance needed in the midst of a continued search.
Perhaps you came here this morning, hoping to find Jesus. You will find him – in the bread and wine. That is the promise of a sacramental theology. If you came, hoping to find him in a different way, you might find him that way, too. But what you have definitely found is a gathering of persons united in our search. We are a community of searchers, a community dependent upon one another. This place is a place where we look for God - but are always in the company of other searchers.
Maybe it is a result of my privilege status that I get to hear and to see the search going on the lives of so many. Perhaps only the pastor is daily reminded that church is not a gathering of devoted disci¬ples so much as it is an assembly of edger seekers. But that is what we are.
Some of us where there when something wonderful and marvel¬ous happened. Some of us have been the recipients of one of those touches in which we were healed or made whole. That is great. But it remains true that those who have had such an experience are the most intense of all seekers - for they know what it is like to encounter God. Those who have been overcome by God's presence and power are all the more likely to be relentless in their search. We are an assembly of seekers. Those who have had recent glimpses share what they have seen so that we might all be strengthened in the search.
In the morning, on that morning, Jesus rose early and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. He left the village behind, he left them to search. He left them in order to go on to neighboring towns, for that is what he came to do. He leaves them, in order to go and find others, so that he might set them forth on their search.
This is the final irony: While Jesus sets these villages off on their search, in the end he is the one who does the finding. The end of our search is the moment at which we are found by God. Our search is conducted in anticipation of the day on which we will be found.
Amen.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Devotion - Thursday, February 2
It was reported to me, that as Pastor Danielle met with the Tuesday Bible Study group and asked, "How do you normally proceed?" the reply was "PC just starts talking and we listen." This exposes one of the downfalls of our ministry - Not enough opportunity to observe where it is that you are in your walk with Jesus and discern how to place the story of Jesus in the critical spot so as to become the next stepping stone - close enough so you will take the step; far enough away to encourage you to stretch for the mark - which is the life God would encourage you to live.
Thursday shout-outs seem to be becoming a trend. Didn't Allen do a marvelous job last night? His story of how he chose to make up a story about himself in the narrative section of the SAT was amazing. His take-home line speaks well of what it means to know there is an ever evolving identity within each of us; an identity which God sees, and identity we want to possess, even if we aren't there - yet. He said, (paraphrased here) "We so often speak of ourselves as we would want to be, but when we come to God, God accepts us as we are."
What is your next step in becoming the person God wants you to be? It can be frightening to look too far down the road and realize that the ideal existence is a long way off. Don't look there. You will only get to a final destination if you take the step within reach. So rather than worry about how you will get all the way, think of the next step. Take that step. Such is the life of a disciple - following Jesus; taking one step at a time.
Thursday shout-outs seem to be becoming a trend. Didn't Allen do a marvelous job last night? His story of how he chose to make up a story about himself in the narrative section of the SAT was amazing. His take-home line speaks well of what it means to know there is an ever evolving identity within each of us; an identity which God sees, and identity we want to possess, even if we aren't there - yet. He said, (paraphrased here) "We so often speak of ourselves as we would want to be, but when we come to God, God accepts us as we are."
What is your next step in becoming the person God wants you to be? It can be frightening to look too far down the road and realize that the ideal existence is a long way off. Don't look there. You will only get to a final destination if you take the step within reach. So rather than worry about how you will get all the way, think of the next step. Take that step. Such is the life of a disciple - following Jesus; taking one step at a time.
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