In Matthew 9, Jesus is approached by a man, whose daughter has died. Jesus goes to the man's house. When he arrives, the "flute players" are already there - the community has begun to gather in order to mourn the child's passing, to prepare her body for burial, and to support the family in their grief. Jesus tells them they are premature, that "the girl is not dead but sleeping." They laugh at him.
Before I go on, I need to share a note from my seminary course on Matthew. It was a part of the culture at the time that the flute players showed up, uninvited, when a death occurred. They would play their instruments, and then then they would expect payment. So, when Jesus speaks of the girl not being dead, their laughter may have been somewhat motivated by the suggestion that they were going to be denied the opportunity to collect their coins. They were a part of the death ritual of the community, but they were there to profit from the death, not genuinely mourn the girl's passing. There is a lesson here - that not eveyone is sad to see a death; that some see death as an opportunity and they seek to exploit it.
Jesus knows that life is God's to give; Jesus knows that even where and when death is all that others can see - he finds life.
Think not so much about those in your family or circle of friends who have been buried. Think of those (perhaps even yourself) who continue to draw breath, but who have ceased to experience the fullness and the promise of the life God has for us. Think of those persons (hopefully not yourself) who fail to see the opportunities set before them but choose instead to face corners and remain tethered. They may not be there totally of their own choosing. Like the ancient flute players, there are persons in the world who look enthusiastically for those susceptible to the suggestion to be dead rather than to live. They attempt to keep us in the places where death is the choice to be made.
Into those lives (and into your own) Jesus comes to announce that life is there, that life is ours, that while others may see death his vision is one of the living.
In Matthew 9, there are no fancy words or actions, nor even a prayerful outcry. Jesus simply takes the girl by the hand, "and the girl arose." Simple, really.
Just as simply, Jesus takes our hand. Just as simply, from him and into us flows the life which is God's gift to us.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Devotion - Wednesday, November 9
I was reading this morning from Matthew 9. Jesus calls Matthew as a disciple; he ends up sharing dinner with a number of tax collectors and sinners. The Pharisees comment on this. Jesus says to them, "Those who are well have no need of a physician."
Does this story speak to us in any way? Are we so far removed in time and context that we fail to grasp what is going on here? A fear is that we have become so comfortable with our inclusion in the community of Christ that we no longer hear those words which are meant to shake up that community.
One of last evening's Bible study participants correctly pointed out that we are "all sinners." Perhaps it is our willingness to admit our shortcomings which contribute to our reading Matthew 9 and seeing ourselves in the role of those whose presence with Jesus is questioned. We continue to think of ourselves as the unlikely recipients of God's gracious invitation to sit at his table. And thus we should see ourselves. But we are also those whose names appear on the list of temple keepers; are not many of us among those who arrange the chairs at the table and send out the notices that the meal is being served? We share traits with those who already have a place in the house and around the table. We may be one of the sinners who Jesus beckons to join him; but we are also one of the established guard reluctant to give up our status.
We need to continually understand ourselves to be sinners, welcomed to the table by a gracious and loving master. But we must also be on the lookout for those who are being called to the table, and do not consider themselves worthy. We need to be helpful to Jesus, in making them feel welcome and not part of the reason they feel excluded.
Look around you for the most unlikely of candidates for God's invitation. Look at them with differing eyes, with the eyes of Jesus, and through the experience adjust your understanding of why Jesus came and to whom he came. Allow this to alter the way in which you reach out to those persons and the ways in which you speak to them of God's invitation.
Does this story speak to us in any way? Are we so far removed in time and context that we fail to grasp what is going on here? A fear is that we have become so comfortable with our inclusion in the community of Christ that we no longer hear those words which are meant to shake up that community.
One of last evening's Bible study participants correctly pointed out that we are "all sinners." Perhaps it is our willingness to admit our shortcomings which contribute to our reading Matthew 9 and seeing ourselves in the role of those whose presence with Jesus is questioned. We continue to think of ourselves as the unlikely recipients of God's gracious invitation to sit at his table. And thus we should see ourselves. But we are also those whose names appear on the list of temple keepers; are not many of us among those who arrange the chairs at the table and send out the notices that the meal is being served? We share traits with those who already have a place in the house and around the table. We may be one of the sinners who Jesus beckons to join him; but we are also one of the established guard reluctant to give up our status.
We need to continually understand ourselves to be sinners, welcomed to the table by a gracious and loving master. But we must also be on the lookout for those who are being called to the table, and do not consider themselves worthy. We need to be helpful to Jesus, in making them feel welcome and not part of the reason they feel excluded.
Look around you for the most unlikely of candidates for God's invitation. Look at them with differing eyes, with the eyes of Jesus, and through the experience adjust your understanding of why Jesus came and to whom he came. Allow this to alter the way in which you reach out to those persons and the ways in which you speak to them of God's invitation.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Devotion - Tuesday, November 8
Matthew 9:1-8 retells an encounter between Jesus and the scribes.
It begins with a healing, of which the scribes are critical of Jesus. When he sees the paralytic, lying on his bed, Jesus says to him, "Your sins are forgiven." This is the reason for their criticism. They would point out that only God can forgive sins. Their opposition to Jesus is that he would announce the forgiveness of sins.
The reply Jesus gives them is intended to show that he does have this authority; it is a message for the early Church that Jesus is the Son of God. But this morning I found something else in his words which stuck with me.
Jesus asks these scribes, "Which is easier, to say, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say, 'Rise and walk?'" Having been criticized for announcing the forgiveness of sins, Jesus now gives the command to stand and walk.
Again, this story's purpose in scriptures is to assure us of Jesus' authority. But this morning, with these verses fresh in my head, as I prayed for those of you facing various illnesses and diseases, I found myself thinking how impressed we would be were healing to occur, and yet we overlook the miracle of the forgiveness of our sins.
I don't want to pretend that it is easy to heal someone. Many times disease takes a strong hold of us and will not let us go. But the scribes appropriately understand that healing is in no way comparable to forgiveness. One is an option for many; the other is solely the realm of God.
My prayers will continue to include petitions for healing. May God's grace be with each who suffer in body or spirit. The assurance we have is that our suffering is not a result of unforgiven sin. We can face our challenges confident that Jesus has looked upon us and that he has also said to us, "Your sins are forgiven."
It begins with a healing, of which the scribes are critical of Jesus. When he sees the paralytic, lying on his bed, Jesus says to him, "Your sins are forgiven." This is the reason for their criticism. They would point out that only God can forgive sins. Their opposition to Jesus is that he would announce the forgiveness of sins.
The reply Jesus gives them is intended to show that he does have this authority; it is a message for the early Church that Jesus is the Son of God. But this morning I found something else in his words which stuck with me.
Jesus asks these scribes, "Which is easier, to say, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say, 'Rise and walk?'" Having been criticized for announcing the forgiveness of sins, Jesus now gives the command to stand and walk.
Again, this story's purpose in scriptures is to assure us of Jesus' authority. But this morning, with these verses fresh in my head, as I prayed for those of you facing various illnesses and diseases, I found myself thinking how impressed we would be were healing to occur, and yet we overlook the miracle of the forgiveness of our sins.
I don't want to pretend that it is easy to heal someone. Many times disease takes a strong hold of us and will not let us go. But the scribes appropriately understand that healing is in no way comparable to forgiveness. One is an option for many; the other is solely the realm of God.
My prayers will continue to include petitions for healing. May God's grace be with each who suffer in body or spirit. The assurance we have is that our suffering is not a result of unforgiven sin. We can face our challenges confident that Jesus has looked upon us and that he has also said to us, "Your sins are forgiven."
Monday, November 7, 2011
Devotion - Monday, November 7
Some of Paul's words have been fully and completely heard, accepted, and applied to our lives. Some of what he says, we have truly taken to heart and made a part of our daily lives.
Take, for example, his instructions on eating meat offered to idols. When was the last time you worried (or even considered) whether a meal you were consuming had previously been part of some ritual sacrifice? In I Corinthians 10, Paul gives instructions on how one is to respond, when invited to the house of another. If the meat we are offered does not offend us, then go ahead and eat it. He says.
Have you not applied this to your life? Don't you eat, without concern, as to where the meat was offered?
Perhaps you are thinking, "Sacrifice to other gods is no longer practiced." Perhaps true, but I am anticipating a lot of fires and sacrificial offerings come Saturday as those eighty some thousand gather to adore (if not worship) the god of Clemson football.
I am not attempting to build an argument that we have turned college football into the god upon which we lavish our gifts and devote our time (any attempts to do this would leave me open to questions about my devotion to NASCAR.) But as I read I Corinthians 10 this morning, I thought of all this. Particularly when I got to the first verse of the 11th chapter. "Give no offense... Just as I try to please all.... not seeking my own advantage, but that of many, that they may be saved."
How offensive ought it be that we can turn out 80K+ for a football game, but have a tough time getting 300 to participate in the CROP Walk for World Hunger? What is the value of all those tailgating tents, seen on game day? And why do we find it so difficult to raise enough money to pay for the Homecoming Habitat House?
It might be offensive, to some, when they observe the resources we devote to entertaining ourselves as compared to the resources given to save others.
Some of Paul's words we have heard, accepted, and applied to our lives. Others - well, we might have a ways to go.
Take, for example, his instructions on eating meat offered to idols. When was the last time you worried (or even considered) whether a meal you were consuming had previously been part of some ritual sacrifice? In I Corinthians 10, Paul gives instructions on how one is to respond, when invited to the house of another. If the meat we are offered does not offend us, then go ahead and eat it. He says.
Have you not applied this to your life? Don't you eat, without concern, as to where the meat was offered?
Perhaps you are thinking, "Sacrifice to other gods is no longer practiced." Perhaps true, but I am anticipating a lot of fires and sacrificial offerings come Saturday as those eighty some thousand gather to adore (if not worship) the god of Clemson football.
I am not attempting to build an argument that we have turned college football into the god upon which we lavish our gifts and devote our time (any attempts to do this would leave me open to questions about my devotion to NASCAR.) But as I read I Corinthians 10 this morning, I thought of all this. Particularly when I got to the first verse of the 11th chapter. "Give no offense... Just as I try to please all.... not seeking my own advantage, but that of many, that they may be saved."
How offensive ought it be that we can turn out 80K+ for a football game, but have a tough time getting 300 to participate in the CROP Walk for World Hunger? What is the value of all those tailgating tents, seen on game day? And why do we find it so difficult to raise enough money to pay for the Homecoming Habitat House?
It might be offensive, to some, when they observe the resources we devote to entertaining ourselves as compared to the resources given to save others.
Some of Paul's words we have heard, accepted, and applied to our lives. Others - well, we might have a ways to go.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Devotion - Thursday, November 3
Jesus ends his Sermon on the Mount with a comparison between the person who builds their house upon the sand, and a person who builds their house upon rock. The analogy is that the house built upon the sand is easily washed away when the rains and the floods come. The house built upon the rock stands firm.
Jesus has finished presenting the bedrock of his teachings. He has told us, in the preceding three chapters, what we are to believe and how we are to act. "Follow these," he seems to be saying, "and you will be like the one who builds on rock."
But what if my house is already built? And what if it isn't built on rock? What am I to do?
Most of you are aware of my role in the Clemson Habitat houses. We build the house on campus, on a temporary foundation. The house is then moved to its permanent location. That sounds simple, but it is a lot of work. A lot of work. Moving a house is not easy.
So if I discover (or admit) that my house is not built where it is secure from the rains and the floods, what am I to do? Relocating the house will take a lot of work. A lot of work.
They guys who move our Habitat houses are slick. They have their own set of codes (they whistle instructions.) They go about tasks which seem minor to me, but when it all comes together you can see the reason why they completed that step. Their style might be a model for those wishing to relocate their "house."
First, think about the move. What will it take? Where will the move get you? How can you make sure that the new foundation is secure.
Next, go about it in small steps, not large ones. Few of us will have the opportunity or the desire to pick up, pack up and completely relocate.
Finally, enlist the help of others. Telling them of your desire to relocate and asking for their assistance in completing the task.
Jesus tells us about the foundation which is secure. Sometimes we reside there, happily. Others of us have to move. Moving is possible. It is a lot of work; but it is doable.
Jesus has finished presenting the bedrock of his teachings. He has told us, in the preceding three chapters, what we are to believe and how we are to act. "Follow these," he seems to be saying, "and you will be like the one who builds on rock."
But what if my house is already built? And what if it isn't built on rock? What am I to do?
Most of you are aware of my role in the Clemson Habitat houses. We build the house on campus, on a temporary foundation. The house is then moved to its permanent location. That sounds simple, but it is a lot of work. A lot of work. Moving a house is not easy.
So if I discover (or admit) that my house is not built where it is secure from the rains and the floods, what am I to do? Relocating the house will take a lot of work. A lot of work.
They guys who move our Habitat houses are slick. They have their own set of codes (they whistle instructions.) They go about tasks which seem minor to me, but when it all comes together you can see the reason why they completed that step. Their style might be a model for those wishing to relocate their "house."
First, think about the move. What will it take? Where will the move get you? How can you make sure that the new foundation is secure.
Next, go about it in small steps, not large ones. Few of us will have the opportunity or the desire to pick up, pack up and completely relocate.
Finally, enlist the help of others. Telling them of your desire to relocate and asking for their assistance in completing the task.
Jesus tells us about the foundation which is secure. Sometimes we reside there, happily. Others of us have to move. Moving is possible. It is a lot of work; but it is doable.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Devotion - Wednesday, November 2
Having written about Reformation and All Saints', it seemed appropriate to continue the series and comment on today's festival - even though it is a festival observed by neighbors more than by us.
In Mexico, today is observed as the Day of the Dead. On this day, family members will make special pilgrimages to the graves of their family members. They will take with them the foods or drink enjoyed by the departed, leaving these on the graves.
Laura and I made our first trip to Mexico some six years ago. It was for the wedding of LCM Alums. It was an October wedding, weeks before Day of the Dead. We ventured into town and discovered all the decorations on sale for the upcoming holiday. We didn't know much about the tradition, by were intrigued by the skeletons dressed up to symbolize various professions, and numerous famous persons.
You might think it odd, but on that same visit, we left the hotel and walked behind the walled cemetery. What we found there was stark contrast to the orderly, sanitized cemeteries we have in the US. The graves were arranged somewhat haphazardly. The markers were not fancy, carved granite but hand poured concrete with names and dates carved with a stick. Some graves were like a mausoleum; elaborate brickwork with glass enclosures protecting photos or personal items we assumed were put there to acknowledge the life of the deceased.
While we were walking around, we came upon a burial. The casket was small, probably that of a child. The mourners were not only carrying the casket, but also shovels. No attempts at denying death or burial; no professional funeral directors; here was a family doing what needed to be done for the one who had died. It was a terrifying scene; the thought of the loss experienced by the family. But at the same time it was very comforting; to see those who loved the one who had died caring for the body and placing it in the ground.
I don't know as much about the Day of the Dead as I would like. What I do know is that we do it a disservice when we buy our trinkets and see it as a day to party. Like All Saints Eve (Halloween), it is a day which brackets All Saints Day and draws its origins from the necessity of acknowledging death.
The promise of Christian faith is that death has lost its sting. That sting is not removed as a result of denying death, but as we look death squarely in the face. Day of the Dead seems to be a wonderful way of acknowledging how it is that those who have gone before us have shown us how to live. They may have died, but their presence continues to be felt and experienced every day of our lives. On one day, November 2, we visit their graves in order to acknowledge them as an ongoing part of our lives.
In Mexico, today is observed as the Day of the Dead. On this day, family members will make special pilgrimages to the graves of their family members. They will take with them the foods or drink enjoyed by the departed, leaving these on the graves.
Laura and I made our first trip to Mexico some six years ago. It was for the wedding of LCM Alums. It was an October wedding, weeks before Day of the Dead. We ventured into town and discovered all the decorations on sale for the upcoming holiday. We didn't know much about the tradition, by were intrigued by the skeletons dressed up to symbolize various professions, and numerous famous persons.
You might think it odd, but on that same visit, we left the hotel and walked behind the walled cemetery. What we found there was stark contrast to the orderly, sanitized cemeteries we have in the US. The graves were arranged somewhat haphazardly. The markers were not fancy, carved granite but hand poured concrete with names and dates carved with a stick. Some graves were like a mausoleum; elaborate brickwork with glass enclosures protecting photos or personal items we assumed were put there to acknowledge the life of the deceased.
While we were walking around, we came upon a burial. The casket was small, probably that of a child. The mourners were not only carrying the casket, but also shovels. No attempts at denying death or burial; no professional funeral directors; here was a family doing what needed to be done for the one who had died. It was a terrifying scene; the thought of the loss experienced by the family. But at the same time it was very comforting; to see those who loved the one who had died caring for the body and placing it in the ground.
I don't know as much about the Day of the Dead as I would like. What I do know is that we do it a disservice when we buy our trinkets and see it as a day to party. Like All Saints Eve (Halloween), it is a day which brackets All Saints Day and draws its origins from the necessity of acknowledging death.
The promise of Christian faith is that death has lost its sting. That sting is not removed as a result of denying death, but as we look death squarely in the face. Day of the Dead seems to be a wonderful way of acknowledging how it is that those who have gone before us have shown us how to live. They may have died, but their presence continues to be felt and experienced every day of our lives. On one day, November 2, we visit their graves in order to acknowledge them as an ongoing part of our lives.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Devotion - Tuesday, November 1
"The dearly departed," "The Saints Triumphant," there are any number of ways of referring to those who have been for us models of the faith, but now now "rest from their labors." They are the "Saints of the Church," and they serve to inspire us; their service builds up the people of God.
On this day, we pick up where their labors left off. On this day, we become the models of prayer. We remember them before God and we pray that their witness will not have been in vain. On this day we give thanks for All the Saints, and we petition God to assure us that they are aware of our love and that they are comforted by our remembrance.
A tradition on All Saints' Sunday is to name those who have left us in the past year. Among those, for me, are my mother-in-law and my campus pastor. Representing the two aspects of my life (home and vocation) their deaths left huge voids. On this day of prayer and remembrance, I will remember all the things they gave me and all that they taught me in the hope that I can draw from these the wisdom to live in this family and to work among God's people.
Remember and give thanks for those who have guided your life of faith. Remember and give thanks for their presence among you and for their role in shaping your own life. Remember and give thanks for All the Saints.
On this day, we pick up where their labors left off. On this day, we become the models of prayer. We remember them before God and we pray that their witness will not have been in vain. On this day we give thanks for All the Saints, and we petition God to assure us that they are aware of our love and that they are comforted by our remembrance.
A tradition on All Saints' Sunday is to name those who have left us in the past year. Among those, for me, are my mother-in-law and my campus pastor. Representing the two aspects of my life (home and vocation) their deaths left huge voids. On this day of prayer and remembrance, I will remember all the things they gave me and all that they taught me in the hope that I can draw from these the wisdom to live in this family and to work among God's people.
Remember and give thanks for those who have guided your life of faith. Remember and give thanks for their presence among you and for their role in shaping your own life. Remember and give thanks for All the Saints.
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