We All Fall Down

"We All Fall Down"

Mark 13:1-2

Let me show you some pictures.

Here is the Colosseum in Rome.  The Loomis’ were just there this past summer.

As you can see, it’s in a bit of disrepair.  The stadium floor is gone.  As is some of the arch work around the top.  Seats eroding.  It was once a great and terrible place.  Now it is collapsing in on itself.

The next picture is the Temple of Aphrodite in what was Ephesus.

It was once considered one of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world.  You see the columns.  There used to be 121 of those all around and inside the temple.  A magnificent structure that was built and then rebuilt.  People came from all over the world to see it.  This is all that’s left of it.

Our next picture is a model of Jerusalem.

This is what it would have looked like in the time of the Roman occupation.  The temple complex is there to the left.  The deck upon which the temple was built was all buttressed up by huge stones and filled in.

This picture is all that’s left of the temple mount—the western, or Wailing Wall.

Herod the Great had the temple rebuilt.  The construction started around 1 B.C. and took nearly 46 years to finish.  The Roman emperor Titius destroyed it in 70 A.D.  So it would have been in the process of being built when Jesus was alive.  Hence the disciples statement—“Teacher, look at these beautiful stones and wonderful buildings!”

An average stone used in building the temple was 3 ft. by 4 ft by 15 ft.  Each stone weighed around 28 tons.  The largest stone they found used in the building was 44 ft. by 11 ft. by 17 ft. and weighs approximately 600 tons.  So, yes:  “Look at these beautiful stones…”

Beautiful stones, not just in the Jewish Temple, but the Colosseum, the Temple to Aphrodite, and so many like them.  Once magnificent buildings.  Now rubble.  ISIS is now going around blowing up even the rubble, with human beings strapped to the stones.

A little over two years ago we were talking about what the mission of this congregation is.  We were taking a serious look at our building, wondering if it fit with what we wanted the mission of the church to be.  Does this building serve us in doing the ministry into the future?  If not, what are our options?  Some of you were angry and dumbfounded that we were even entertaining the idea of tearing this building down, or abandoning it, so we could create a different kind of space and a different kind of ministry.

This is just a congregation.  One church among many Christian churches.  Jesus was talking about the central building of a whole religion--the Temple--being torn down.  It became one of the main charges against him at his trial, this statement spoken to the disciples about the destruction of the Temple.

Think of what the Temple represented.  It was the seat of the whole Jewish religion.  At all the religious festival days, it was to Jerusalem and the Temple that people would come by the thousands.  Many of the Psalms are marching Psalms that the people used, reciting, chanting and singing them as they processed up the hill to the Temple.

The Temple was the ultimate symbol of the tradition and history and worship of the Jewish religion.  The building of the first Temple was traced back to King David and his son Solomon.  So the history of a people and their greatest King was imbued in the temple.

The Temple housed the High Priests and Sanhedrin--the ruling Jewish council.  Therefore the Temple was the seat of all rule and authority of the institutional side of the Jewish religion.

But most importantly, the Temple was the closest point of contact between God and the Jewish people.  It was in the Temple, in the inner most part, called the Holy of Holies, where the Ark of the Covenant was housed.  The Ark itself housed the stone tablets of the 10 Commandments given by God to Moses.  It was upon the Ark that God sat when God spoke to the High Priests.  Only the High Priests were allowed in.  Ropes were tied around their waists, in case they died inside the Holy of Holies so they could then be dragged out without another High Priest having to go in and retrieve the body.  The Temple was believed to be God's house upon the earth.

So, it wasn't just the building.  It was all of this that was represented by the building.  The Temple was the heart and soul of the entirety of the Jewish religion.  Without the Temple, the Jewish people assumed they could have no religion and their existence as a unique people would be gone.   Try to wrap your minds around this, because we have nothing like it in the Christian religion.

Jesus makes one deliberate comment in reply to one of the disciples statement.  We don't know which disciple it was.  Jesus tersely replied, "Do you see these huge buildings?  They will certainly be thrown down.  Not one stone will be left in place."

Thrown down.  Destroyed.  Put down.  The word Jesus used infers intention.  The Temple will intentionally be thrown down.  It won't be like an old abandoned farm house out in the middle of no where, the roof caved in, trees growing out of shattered windows, cows using it for shelter in the Winter.  No, not like that.  Intentionally thrown down.

If you're with me here, or ahead of me, you're asking the question, "By whose intention will the Temple be thrown down?"  What kind of force would be needed to make it so, "Not one stone will be left in place"?

What is the answer to our questions?  Whose intention is it to "throw down" the Temple?  Remember, Jesus was the one who made the statement.  (God.)  Now, even more questions:  "Why would God intend to destroy this connection between himself and the people?"  And, "If it is God's intention, how does a person survive that intention?"

In a dystopian novel I finished reading a month ago, one of the characters said to another, "There are only two things in life:  survival or death."  I would add, "And eventually there is only death."

That seems to be the way the universe is designed.  So many challenges along the way testing our survivability.  Think of the great empires of history, Babylonian, Assyrian, Roman, Ottoman, Genghis and Kubla Kahn.  All gone.  Cultures of all kinds, gone.  Historical figures, some amazing, some amazingly despotic--it doesn't matter, they are all gone.

Ring around the rosie

Pocket full of posies

Ashes, Ashes,

We all fall down.

That children's rhyme may have been about the bubonic plague, but it is nonetheless true about everything else in life.  Nothing is permanent.  We all fall down.

It doesn't matter if you're a human being, a 600 ton stone, an institution, an empire, or even a religion.  Jesus said it will all be thrown down.

We would like to think that there has to be something permanent in this world.  Take Jesus' statement a step further.  Think of a mountain.  A beautiful, majestic mountain.  Snow capped.  Inspiring.  Solid.  Immovable.  Like Mt. St. Helens.  Or Krakatoa.  Symbols of solidity, in a moment blown sky high as the volcanoes they are.  Isn't the very earth we stand on foundational and firm and stable?  Until an earthquake or mudslide lets you know otherwise.

There must be something permanent.  Something that will always be.  Like a vow--that sacred promise made between a man and a woman.  A vow with supposedly that added strength of love behind it.  Right?  Until you read the statistics: 50% divorce rate.  And even if the vow is not broken by divorce, it can be undermined fiercely by affairs, or bad communication, or scores of other things.

There must be something permanent, like our values and beliefs.  What's more foundational to a person's life than their core beliefs?  You establish those unshakable beliefs in your life and use those to keep you standing throughout your life.  But there is this conspiracy inherent in life that these situations keep getting thrown at us that shake the stones of our values loose.  Down they come.

The people were angry with Jesus because he dared to say that the very things we hold on to in life in order to gain a sense of permanence will ultimately fail us.  Even the Temple and the whole religious institution and experiences that it symbolizes.   Jesus could have just as easily said, "Look around at all the solidity you think is represented by Christianity.  Christianity will be thrown down."  We would be aghast.  And we would crucify him for even hinting at dismantling our religion.

"We all fall down."

How would you live life if you realized there is nothing permanent?  That all the sturdy stones you think you are building your life with will all be thrown down?

The Christian monk, Thomas Merton, once equated our push for building permanence with the word "noise."  In No Man Is An Island, Merton wrote:

Those who love their own noise are impatient of everything else...The urgency of their swift movement seems to ignore the tranquility of nature by pretending to have purpose...The silence of the sky remains when the plane is gone...It is the silence of the world that is real.  Our noise, our business, our purposes, and all our fatuous statements about our purposes, our business, and our noise: these are the illusion.

Being in the silence as the only thing that is true and permanent is an important concept for Merton.  I think the silence is represented by at least three qualities.  The first is love.  Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 13 that "Love never ends."  There is that about love that found in the silence, that has nothing to do with stonework or the trivial things we grab a hold of that we define as bringing permanence to life.  Love is one of the three qualities of what Merton means by the silence.

The second quality is God's presence.  Hebrews 13:5 states, (and this is God talking) "I will never leave you nor forsake you."  And at the very end of the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus told his disciples, "I will be with you always, even to the end of the world."  God's presence is that quality of being in the silence that has nothing to do with religion, religious institutions, or all the stonework that we can construct.

The third quality of the silence is God's rule.  Hebrews 1:8 states, "Your rule, O God, is forever and ever."  Again, God's rule has nothing to do with denominations or religions or temples or stonework.  God's rule has nothing to do with boundaries or human authorities.  It is God's rule.  By God.  Through God.  It is God in the silence, not in all the noise we create, especially by all those who are incessantly filling our ears with  all the talk that they know exactly what God wants, thinks and wills.

Is that what Jesus is telling the disciples?  Get away from the noise.  The noise these stones are creating.  The noise the religion going on within these stones is creating.  The noise of all the permanence building people are doing that is ultimately flimsy and worthless.  Leave it all behind.  It's all going to fall down anyway.  Come into the powerful silence of love, and God's presence, and God's rule.

Not What, But How

"Not What, But How"

Mark 12:41-44

There is the story of the millionaire who was sitting in church.  He got up to give his testimony and he said, “I owe everything I am today to a certain experience I had in church long ago.  I was down to my last dollar.  The offering was being taken up.  As the plate was nearing my row, I had a decision to make.  Was I going to give up that last dollar for the Lord, or hold on to it along with the last shred of security it symbolized?  The offering plate came to me and I joyfully put in the last dollar I had to my name.  The Lord honored that, and has blessed me greatly since that day—all because I was willing to give all I had.”

At that point a voice came from the congregation saying, “I dare you to do it again.”

The desire or call to be sacrificial in one’s giving is a difficult choice.  It doesn’t matter if you are a person of great wealth or if you are a person down to your last two pennies.  For most people, the level of what it means to be down to your last two cents is different in each circumstance.  I remember a tearful news conference where Tammy Fae Bakker, of the PTL Club, was pouring out her heart because she and her husband Jimmy were down to their last $100,000.  She tearfully told the TV audience she didn’t know how she and Jimmy were going to survive.  I doubt if Tammy Fae ever considered giving away what she considered to be her last two coins.

Should it have been considered?  That is, regardless if a person is a millionaire, or if they are Jimmy and Tammy Fae down to their last $100,000, or if they are a legitimate widow who holds in their hand their last two mites—not even worth a penny, is the expectation of Jesus that it should all go into the offering plate?  That real giving is only total giving?  Is that what Jesus is calling attention to here?

Let’s examine those questions with as much openness as is possible, since talking about your money and what you do with it is probably as sensitive a topic as you will face.

Jesus positioned himself “opposite the treasury.”  He had just had an engaging discussion with the Sadducees and the Scribes in the inner court of the Temple.  Perhaps he had come out to the outer court where anyone could congregate in order to get a breather from all that heavy discussion.

There were seven horn shaped receptacles across from him that were for the gathering of people’s offering.  The court was probably crowded with people coming and going from those offering receptacles, depositing their coins.  You get the impression that this was a common pastime of watching people put in their offering.  Jesus was just fitting himself in with the crowd of people watchers.

What was he watching, exactly?  I don’t know if Mark intended it, but in telling this story he stated that Jesus was watching how the people put their money into the offering containers.  Some may have walked up and dropped their money in.  Kids, you could imagine, may have made a game out of it by playing some early version of basketball with their money, trying to flip coins in from some distance.  And others must have brought their offering in with fanfare and ceremony.

Those who got the most attention and created the most “ooo’s” and “aah’s” must have been those who brought in the most money.  If they didn’t draw attention with some grand entrance, then the clinking of so many coins being dropped in would have.

When I lived in San Jose, California there were a couple of times I got to stay in a church member’s “cabin” at Lake Tahoe.  I don’t know why they called it a cabin.  It was a five bedroom, four bathroom house.  One of the things I like about Lake Tahoe was the different kinds of wildlife, including what I’d find in the casinos on the south shore.  It was fun sitting and watching people play the slot machines and what would happen when someone hit a jackpot.

Around the dollar machines the reaction was more dramatic.  This was back in the good-old-days when actual coins shot out of the machine and hit the metal pot at the bottom with a tremendous clatter.  That continual clanging of coins, while all the time a bell was ringing and a red light was flashing on top of the machine, was an impressive racket.  Then they would gather their coins, filling the paper buckets the casino would hand out, fingers getting all gray from the oxidation on the coins.

Heads turned and watched and listened until the clamor stopped.  When I would win a jackpot at my nickel machine I’d feel a little embarrassment and some paranoia with all those eyes and ears aimed in my direction.  Then those who watched would go back to their machines, hard at it, hoping they would be the next big winner.  No one was impressed when a jackpot only yielded two or three coins.  It’s the big ones that make the difference.

So it must have been at the temple treasury—what was really impressive was the size of the offering brought in and dumped in the brass horns.  What really got people’s attention was the big clanging noise.  Those who got the big pat on the back were those who put in large amounts.  They were the ones who got the recognition from not only those gathered around, but also from the priests.  The people with lots of coins were the ones held up as an example of mighty and faithful giving.

What we must realize is that even though some of the offerings were large, when seen in proportion, they were only what the Jewish law prescribed.  There were strict guidelines to make sure that everyone was pulling their weight in terms of giving the mandated 10% of one’s income.  Thus, percentage wise, those people giving large amounts of money were giving no more and no less than those who put fewer coins in the pot.  Some just had more wealth, so their 10% added up to be more coins than others.

The sad mistake being made by some of the givers and some of the onlookers may have been that because some people gave more coins they were deemed more important.  Or that they were doing something more noteworthy than others.  Especially compared to the woman who quietly and quickly entered this scene, put in two coins not even adding up the value of a penny, then just as quietly and unnoticed, disappeared back into the crowd.

Permit me to ask more questions about this scene.  Is Jesus making a value judgement about the rich and poor here?  Are the rich being slammed, or is Jesus simply reporting a fact about the poor widow and letting his disciples grapple with the implications?  Jesus said nothing about the motive of those who put their money in the pot.  Jesus said nothing about people’s motive for giving as if they were only doing so for show and ostentation.  Mark simply told us that the rich were putting in a lot of coins, with no additional comment from Jesus.

Likewise, we must ask if Jesus was making a blanket statement in praise of the poor?  Or was Jesus highlighting the somewhat foolish things that some people do with their money?  There was a poll taken trying to find out how much of people’s income goes toward different kinds of spending.  One person, who was visibly poor, said, “I spend 50% of my income on housing, 10% on clothing, 40% on food, and 20% on incidentals”

“But sir,” the interviewer said, “that adds up to 120%.”

“Don’t you think I know it!” the man retorted.

But Jesus appeared to make no value judgement about the woman or her motivation.  She could have been giving for just as wrong a reason as the rich were.  She could have been giving out of a feeling of guilt.  Or she could have been giving as if she were putting money in a slot machine, hoping for some big Godly payoff.  Or she could have been trying to leverage God, forcing goodness out of God.  Again, these are questions, the answers to which we don’t know, and would be futile speculating about.

Instead, we must focus attention on what Jesus did for his disciples.  The disciples would have been missed it entirely if Jesus hadn’t pointed it out.  The fact that he had to call the disciples over to point out the woman, who was quickly making her way out of the temple, tells us they wouldn’t have noticed her on their own.

And that’s a lot of it, isn’t it?  Some things aren’t always what they appear.  There is something of deeper value for the disciples—and us—to learn once we discover what Jesus knows about the woman:  “…she put in all she had…”

How did Jesus know that that was all she had?  Did he notice how she stroked the coins with her thumb an fingers a while—hold them in the deepest part of her palm until they were as warm as her heart?  Was he watching her as she stopped to ponder, turn away, returned again, stopped, took a deep breath, and then dropped them in?  Just how could he tell?  The story is not intended to answer that question either.  It is simply a given that Jesus could tell, somehow.

The question then becomes:  What is it about us, something that is visible, that can be detected about the kinds of givers we are?  Karl Menninger, founder of the Menninger Clinic in Topeka, pointed out that to be able to give money away is indicative of mental health.  He said, “Generous people are rarely mentally ill people.”

On the other hand, stinginess is usually a sign of neurosis.  It is a mental disorder that bears little relation to the amount of money one may have.  The person with millions may live in just as desperate fear that he won’t have enough, as the person who will be thrown out on the street if the welfare check doesn’t come in time to pay the rent and utilities.

In talking with one patient, Menninger asked, “What on earth are you going to do with all that money?”

The patient replied, “Just worry about it, I suppose.”

Dr. Menninger then asked, “Do you get that much pleasure out of worrying about it?”

“No,” the man replied, “but I get such terror when I think of giving some of it away.”

Here’s a bit of geographical trivia you may already know.  The Dead Sea in Israel is dead because there are no outlets.  Water comes in from the Jordan River, but no where along the shore of the sea is there somewhere for outflow.  So the water just sits there, filling up with minerals and stagnating.

I wonder if that is descriptive of what Jesus, and others, can see that’s visible in ungiving, ungenerous people:  a certain mis-adjusted attitude that only gathers but never distributes; that takes in, but never flows out; pooled up to do nothing but stagnate the heart and spirit of a person.

The great Scottish preacher and author of the early 1900’s, George MacDonald (who I mentioned last week as being so influential on C.S. Lewis) once said, “…all that God makes must be free to come and go through the heart of His children; they can enjoy it only as it passes, can enjoy its life, its soul, its vision, its meaning, but not (hold on to it for) itself.”  Maybe that’s what Jesus saw in the woman, the flow that was never allowed to stop and stagnate in her heart, but instead continued its cascade of life through her.

Imagine how empowering that perspective could be to the poor widow—to anyone?  In comparison to the amount of coins put in by the rich, she might as well’ve kept her mites.  But it wasn’t about what she gave.  It was about how she gave.  In a world where she was powerless in almost every sphere of life, her kind of giving resulted in a feeling of empowerment pointed out by Christ.

In all the bluster and fanfare and clanging of coins, the insignificant giving of one who has so little became a symbol with tremendous impact.  The widow made a difference not because of what she gave, but because of how she gave:  free flowing, wholeheartedly, powerfully, and entirely unnoticed save by the eyes of Him who sees beyond that which appears to us to be insignificant, but is not.

If I Only Had A Brain

"If I Only Had A Brain"

Mark 12:28-34

One of my favorite songs from the movie, “The Wizard of OZ” is, “If I Only Had A Brain.”  It’s sung by the Scarecrow when Dorothy tells him she is going to OZ.  He begins to imagine what it would be like to have a brain, and sings:

I could while away the hours, conferrin' with the flowers

Consultin' with the rain.

And my head I'd be scratchin' while

my thoughts were busy hatchin'

If I only had a brain.

I'd unravel every riddle for any individ'le,

In trouble or in pain.

With the thoughts I'd be thinkin'

I could be another Lincoln

If I only had a brain.

Oh, I could tell you why The ocean's near the shore.

I could think of things I never thunk before.

And then I'd sit, and think some more.

I would not be just a nuffin' my head all full of stuffin'

My heart all full of pain.

I would dance and be merry, life would be a ding-a-derry,

If I only had a brain.

If you had a brain, what would you do with it?  Because it’s not just a matter of having a brain. It is how you use it.

My son, Ryan, and his wife don’t watch too many movies.  They’ve never gone to a movie at a movie theatre together.  But recently they watched the movie, “Lucy.”  In case you’re not already familiar, the movie is about  a woman who is dosed with a high quantity of a powerful neonatal compound, which rapidly increases her access to untapped parts of her brain giving her ‘supernatural’ abilities.

It’s been said that we use only a small percentage of our brain.  The movie asks—and tries to answer—the question, “What would we be like if we used a much greater proportion of our brain?  What would our minds be capable of with full access to the brain?

I suppose the answer to that question would have to do with what was in control of our mind on full brain mode.  If you could do amazing things with your mind, what kind of amazing would that be—good or evil?  Probably both.  Just because humans could access more of their brains, and thus use their minds to full potential doesn’t mean we would be any better off, or better people?

That’s part of the reason Jesus’ statement about the most important commandment is instructive here.

When asked what the most important commandment is by one of the Scribes, Jesus replied, "To love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind and soul; and love your neighbor as yourself.”  Heart.  Mind.  Soul.  I want to concentrate on just one of those this morning and use our brains to decide and explain what it means to love God with all our mind.

Something interesting happens in this exchange between Jesus and the Scribe about the most important commandment—especially as that has to do with God and the mind.  I’ve never caught it until this week as I was studying Jesus’ and the Scribes conversation.

Jesus told the Scribe what he thought was the most important commandment.  Then the Scribe pats Jesus on the back for his great answer, and parrots back what Jesus said.  But the Scribe changed a word in Jesus' answer.  When Jesus gave his answer, he used the word dianoia, for mind.  But when the Scribe restated what Jesus answered, he used the word, synesis, or understanding, instead of dianoia.

Then Jesus commended the Scribe, telling him, "You are not far from the kingdom of God."

At first reading, I didn't get why Jesus thought the Scribe was close to the kingdom of God by simply saying back to Jesus what Jesus had just said.  Then I found the difference in words.  And I began to wonder.  Was Jesus commending the Scribe for shading that one word differently?  Was the Scribe signaling something to Jesus, and Jesus understood immediately?

The two words are very different.  Dianoia, or mind, is not a clear word in the Greek.  It's root word is nous.  The best way to describe nous is by calling it a person's disposition, or their inner orientation.  It's your natural mental and emotional outlook.

Dianoia, as a derivative word of nous, is more basic than that.  Dianoia is a word that describes more the faculty from which you have your mental and emotional outlook.  Dianoia is more the place from which you do your thinking.  It is more than just saying your brain.  It is the usage of the brain—the whole of our self, that directs our thinking and uses that brain.  When you use the word “mind” you are saying more than just brain.  That is what dianoia is.  Does that make sense?

So, when Jesus said to love the Lord your God with all your mind, he was using this word to describe how people need to love God with that inner faculty and that inner orientation—that thing the Scarecrow wished he had.

Whatever your natural mental capacity is, that has to be totally under the control of your love for God.  Whatever inner guidance system you use to determine where your true thoughts come from, it has to be controlled by your love of God.  To find your way in life you have to use your mind, and your mind has to be totally immersed in loving God.  You are to love God with that whole place, that whole mind from which you do your thinking.  That way, when you think and what you think is being controlled by your love for God.  That’s what Jesus is getting at by using the word dianoia.  Love the Lord your God with that whole place where your thoughts come from.

But the Scribe requoted the same verse Jesus did, but instead of using the word “dianoia,” he used the word “synesis.”  It's where we get our English word, synthesis from.  The word means literally, "to bring together," "union," or "confluence."  A confluence is the flowing together of two or more streams or rivers to become something larger.

Using this word, synesis, for mind, it is not the faculty of the mind as it is more of a unique process of the mind.  It’s that place in our mind, when we may be mulling something over.  Then, suddenly, a couple of things come together in our thinking, and we reach understanding.  It’s when those two or more thoughts come together when we have that “aha!” moment.  We suddenly get it.  We reach a level of understanding that we had not attained before.  That’s what “synesis” is:  the joining together of two or more thoughts that create a larger truth, and we exclaim, “YES!”  It’s that point in a cartoon when a light bulb goes on over a characters head.

So what is the Scribe signaling to Jesus by using this word?  That’s the intriguing question of their conversation.  Love the Lord your God with that place in your thinking, in the way that you use your mind, when you are making connections and coming to larger truths?  Love the Lord your God with that place where all the little streams of your mind come together into the larger river of life and truth?  Love the Lord your God not by just sitting around thinking about God, but with that place where thought and real life flow together and important decisions are made—where two plus two suddenly makes four.

Probably one of the best ways to describe this is use the life of C.S. Lewis as an example.  Lewis was probably one of the most influential Christians in the 20th century, but he wasn’t always so.

At age seventeen, Lewis wrote to longtime friend Arthur Greeves, "I believe in no religion. There is absolutely no proof for any of them, and from a philosophical standpoint Christianity is not even the best.”  That was the beginning of Lewis’ atheistic phase in life.

It was intensified during the years after his mother died.  Tragically, when Lewis's mother died, he in effect lost his father as well. Perhaps out of an inability to cope with the loss of his wife, Albert Lewis sent his two boys to a boarding school, whose headmaster, nicknamed "Oldie," was later certified as insane.

There were many other factors drawing Lewis toward atheism. One was the lure of the occult. Lewis indicated that if the wrong person had come along he might have ended up a sorcerer or a lunatic. Another factor Lewis had to face was the problem of evil. He read a lot from the Greek philosophers. Lewis came to the conclusion that, if God designed the world, it would not be a world so frail and faulty as we experience it.

Lewis came to believe in the meaninglessness of life and that we need to build our lives on the basis of "unyielding despair." Lewis's way of stating it was, "Nearly all I loved I believed to be imaginary; nearly all that I believed to be real, I thought grim and meaningless.”

Then something happened.  Another stream began to flow into Lewis’ life.  Once, before embarking on a long train ride, Lewis purchased a copy of George MacDonald's book Phantastes. MacDonald was a noted Christian pastor and author of fantasy at the time.  Lewis was surprised by what happened during his reading. Something came off the pages and "baptized his imagination." Although he couldn't put this quality into words at that time, he later came to describe it as holiness.

Another stream that suddenly flowed into Lewis’ life was that of the Catholic thinker, G.K. Chesterton.   Chesterton had a significant influence on Lewis. As Lewis read The Everlasting Man, he appreciated Chesterton's humor and was surprised by the power of his presentation. Lewis wrote that he began to feel that "Christianity was very sensible, apart from its Christianity.”

Yet another stream that flowed into his life at this time was that of novelist J.R.R. Tolkien, who wrote The Lord of the Rings.  The two men and their great imaginations became kindred spirits.  But Tolkien was also a Christian. One by one, because of these men and the streams they caused to flow into Lewis’ life, the arguments that were obstacles to his faith were removed.  All these streams were coming into confluence with each other in Lewis’ mind.

All these streams were finally joined into one larger river of faith in Lewis’ mind in 1929.  While riding on a bus in Oxford, Lewis had the sense that he was "holding something at bay, or shutting something out.” He could either open that door or let it stay shut, but to open the door "meant the incalculable." He finally submitted himself to God, and called himself the most "dejected and reluctant convert" in all England.  But from that time on, his confluence of mind that brought him to Christ became one of the strongest flowing rivers in all of Christendom.  He saved my life as a young pastor in my first church, not knowing if I really had anything to preach.  His river of faith caught me up, and launched me into the ministry.

 

Lewis died the same day President Kennedy was shot, and his death was lost in all the media storm that grew out of that day.  But I dare say he was much more influential in so many people’s lives than JFK could have ever hoped to be.  Walter Hooper, Lewis’ long time friend and secretary, called Lewis the "most thoroughly converted man I ever met.”  That conversion happened because Lewis loved the Lord his God with all his mind—in that place of his mind where things come together and finally make perfect sense—become the truth upon which you base your life.

I think that’s why Jesus told the Scribe he wasn’t far from the Kingdom of God. His streams of understanding were coming together and he was at the threshold of believing.

It isn’t a matter of this being an either/or thing—that we have to go with Jesus’ word, dianoia, or the Scribe’s word, synesis.  I think it’s more both/and.  Because Jesus approved the Scribe’s statement, and his usage of a different word, Jesus was affirming how the Scribe “got it.”  The Scribe had come to his own “aha” moment, and used a different word for Jesus that proved he got it.

Do you get it?

Son Of Honor

"Son Of Honor"

Mark 10:46-52

This story about the healing of blind Bartimaeus is a dramatic one and a serious one.  But the first line of the story hits my funny bone.  Now the last time I mentioned something like this, you all just sat there and looked at me.  So it may just be funny to me.

Anyway, the first line of the story reads, “And they came to Jericho.  And as he was leaving with his disciples…”  It’s hilarious to me because Jesus and the disciples came to Jericho and apparently walked right through and left.  Nothing happens in between those two sentences:  Jesus came and Jesus left.  I imagined Jesus coming into town.  People got really excited.  “Jesus is here!  Jesus is here!”  But he just keeps walking and walks right on through without stopping.  Evidently nothing to see.  Not much happening.

I’ve heard a story about Lindsborg, you know that little Swedish town up by Salina.  I don’t know if it’s true or half true, or utter fiction.  Maybe one of you knows.  I had heard that Lindsborg had some big anniversary of the town, and somehow got the King of Sweden to come over and be part of the parade.  So they had their typical small town parade, and the King of Sweden rode through in his car, and never stopped, but just kept going, right through town and down the road.  And never came back.

That’s what the start of this story of Jesus and Jericho feels like.  Walk through town, wave at a few people, and just keep right on walking.

That is until they get to the other side of town.  Where beggars row is.  All the outcasts lined up along the side of the road, trying to get a few pennies out of those coming and going.

Jericho at this time in its history (it is one of the oldest cities in the world) was a fairly bustling place.  Herod had a Winter palace there because it stayed warm in Jericho during the winter.  So it was the place to go.  But evidently not for Jesus.  He was moving on through.  Jericho, being the lowest place on the earth, makes for a vigorous climb up and out of there to Jerusalem.  Maybe that’s all Jesus could think about was the seventeen mile climb up that hill.  The sooner he got at it, the better.

The story makes it sound like Bartimaeus was the only one begging.  But there would have been others.  Especially since it was a resort town with lots of important (and rich) people coming and going to Herod’s Winter palace.

The name, Bartimaeus is interesting.  Bar means son of.  So he was the son of Timaeus.  The name Timaeus means honor.  Literally, Bartimaeus means the “son of honor.”  Which is sadly ironic since the blind and the crippled and the other outcasts were given no honor.  Even Jesus was evidently in a hurry to walk right on by all the beggars.

Until one of them started shouting.  Maybe threw a bunch of dust in the air to attract attention.  Bartimaeus—this son of honor who could not see, and whom others refused to look at.  He could not see.  And everyone else refused to look at him even though they could see.  Blindness in both directions.

Bartimaeus called out to Jesus.  Shouted at him.  Used a couple of names for Jesus that no one else in Mark’s gospel used of Jesus:  Son of David; and, Rabbi.  And, as I’ve already mentioned, we know Bartimaeus’ name.  We aren’t told too many of the people’s names whom Jesus healed:  the woman with the flow of blood, the woman at the well, the man possessed with a “legion” of demons, the man with the paralyzed hand who came into the synagogue, the deaf mute.  And on and on:  so many whose names we’ll never know, but their story is recorded in the most read book in all of history, in all of the world.  But Bartimaeus gets his name mentioned.  This son of honor calls out to Jesus—“the Son of David”—and is then called out, by name by Jesus.

But Bartimaeus—this son of honor—got further dishonored.  People in the little parade told him to shut up.  They disrespected him.  If Bartimaeus stood up, maybe they shoved him back down into the dirt, and told him to stay where he belonged.  Blind people are easy to bully because they can’t see their attackers.  And their attackers know that.

The sad thing is, it wasn’t just the crowd.  It was also the disciples.  They had their own back talk ready for Bartimaeus.  Jesus’ insiders making sure that another human being understood where his position with Jesus was:  sitting in the dirt and told to put a sock in it.

One of the qualities of Bartimaeus that I really like is that he refused to be defined by his circumstances.  He knew within himself that just because he had the disability of blindness, he’s not going to let others define what that means for who he is.  For who he knows himself to be.  He is more than his blindness, and he won’t let anyone else tell him otherwise—including the disciples.

Nor is Bartimaeus going to let others define him by their own expectations of how someone who is blind should act.  Even when those others are the ones who assume they have the right/power to speak on Jesus’ behalf.  What I like about this Son of Honor is that he does see that he is an honorable person.  And the only thing holding Bartimaeus back is nothing within himself; it is the crowd and the disciples who are acting out of their own small expectations of a blind man and are keeping him from being healed.

How many feel the same way?  It may not be blindness or some other physical or mental disability.  It might be something you did in the past, something stupid you aren’t proud of, and people try to define who you are by that once-upon-a-time incident.  Bartimaeus isn’t letting others have that much power over him, to determine what he can or can’t do in life; where he goes and who he can talk to and who he can’t.  Or hold him back from his desire to be healed.

Seeing blind Bartimaeus’ reaction, doesn’t it make us think about who we might be allowing to push us down or hold us back from the healing we are seeking?  Or it might not be a who, but a what.  What circumstances in life are we allowing to shut us up and keep us restrained from fulfilling our God designed destiny?  How do we arouse the courage within to stand up and keep shouting, “I am a son or daughter of honor, and I will be heard!”?

Or maybe it’s the other side of that coin.  Who might we be pushing down into the dirt?  Who are we holding back from becoming the person they could be because of our own stupid misconceptions and prejudices?

It’s like in the book of Job in the Old Testament, where Job suffered awful experiences.  He demands to speak to God, but his so-called “friends” push him away.  The three men tell Job he doesn’t deserve to speak to God—that Job must have done something awful to experience what he experienced.  But Job knows he, like Bartimaeus, is also a Son of Honor, and deserves to be heard and healed.  Job, like Bartimaeus, finally makes enough noise that God pays attention.

One of the questions I have previously suggested for stories such as this is, “Who is this miracle for?” Often the answer to that question is not obvious.  Who is the giving of sight to blind Bartimaeus for?  For Bartimaeus, or for someone else?

In order to answer that question, we need to go back a couple of chapters in Mark’s gospel.  In chapter 8, Jesus talked about his future suffering, rejection and death.  But Peter didn’t understand.  So Peter rebuked Jesus, to which Jesus returned the favor and pushed back on Peter.

Next, the disciples got in an argument about which of them was the greatest.  They still don’t get it, so Jesus has to talk to them about being servants, not someone who is large-and-in-charge. 

Then James and John want Jesus to give them the second most powerful positions that can be had—they want to sit on the right and left of Jesus’ throne when he comes in his kingdom.  Which creates an uproar with the other disciples.  It seems all the disciples can do is be blind to who Jesus is, and jockey for positions of power and prestige.

Then comes along a blind man who has never encountered Jesus, has only heard about Jesus, and demonstrated he saw and understood Jesus and what Jesus is about.  So here we get to answering the question I asked:  “Who is this healing of blindness for?”  Jesus is not only seeking to bring sight to the blind Bartimaeus but also insight to the disciples as Jesus now makes his way to Jerusalem and the end.

Jesus’ insiders remain blind to Jesus’ true identity; but, outsiders like Bartimaeus see it clearly.

Another reason this miracle is for the disciples as well as Bartimaeus, is to let the disciples know they don’t get to keep people at arms length.  They certainly recognized that a lot of people wanted to be near Jesus.  Even children, whom the disciples tried to push away as well.  It seems the disciples are always pushing people away from Jesus.  Maybe they were just trying to secure their own positions as Jesus’ special disciples.  Whatever the reason, Jesus constantly had to push the over protective disciple aside, and let others close to him.  The task of the disciples was not to keep people away from Jesus, but to find ways to give them access.

The problem with the disciples was that even though they knew a lot of people wanted to be near Jesus, the disciples didn’t necessarily want to be around the kinds of people who are drawn to Jesus.  The disciples want it to be just them and Jesus.  Not them, and Jesus, and a bunch of losers trying to get at Jesus.  Jesus had to constantly remind the disciples it was the “losers” he’d rather be around.  And let the disciples know that they should not keep pushing them away.

Once Jesus stopped, and stopped the disciples from shielding him from Bartimaeus, and Bartimaeus was summoned, we are told that Bartimaeus “threw off his cloak and was led to Jesus.”  What you may not know is that his cloak would have been his most treasured possession.  A person’s cloak served many purposes, such as protection from the elements, providing warmth like a blanket at night.

Leaving his cloak behind put it in danger of being stolen.  But Bartimaeus was willing to lose his one most prized possession just for the chance to meet Jesus and possibly be healed.  At that point, Bartimaeus didn’t know if his sight was going to be restored or not.  But he left behind something of great importance and worth to get that chance.

What would you be willing to give up or leave behind for that chance?  What would you be willing to treat with surprising disregard to have that chance to be face-to-face with the Lord, to be able to have the Savior ask you, “What would you want me to do for you?”  Everything pales in value, doesn’t it, when you are given that chance.

This is the last healing miracle in Mark.  No others are healed after Bartimaeus gets his sight.  Usually last things have a way of being remembered and pondered.  Why was this miracle the last one?  Was Jesus trying to put an exclamation point on his healing ministry with this one?  Was Jesus trying to get his disciples attention one last time before they headed to Jerusalem?

We can’t be sure.  We just know that Jesus started that long trek up the hill towards Jerusalem and his death.  And following along behind was one more, one new disciple named Bartimaeus—the son of honor—who was blind but now can see.

King of the Mole Hill

"King of the Mole Hill"

Mark 10:35-45

"And James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came forward to him, and said to him, 'Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.'"

It's not only astounding to me that James and John would make such a statement like that; but, also, where do they come off with such an air of entitlement?  How do they justify in their heads saying such a thing to Jesus?

It's a double headed dragon kind of statement.  One head of the dragon is that they certainly believed enough in Jesus' power that He can do anything and everything.  They certainly believed that Jesus was more than just some guy with a Napoleon complex.

But the other head of the dragon is James and John have no idea who Jesus is and what Jesus is about.  Have they not been paying attention?  They are well into a couple of years following Jesus around.  Yet they have totally misrepresented who Jesus is and what Jesus' teaching and ministry is about by making their demand of him.

We shouldn't be hard on the two disciples, though, should we?  Why should we not be hard on James and John?  Because it's pretty much the way most of us approach God.  "God, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you."

"We don't want you to ask any questions, God--just do what we ask."

"Don't challenge our thinking about what we ask, God--just do it."

"No matter how lame or self-centered our request is, God, we want you to make it happen."

"Even though our requests make us seem like a bunch of entitled whiners, God, we expect you will jump to fulfill our every desire."

I would really have liked to know what Jesus was thinking, when James and John spoke their selfish request.  We know how the other disciples felt.  Their response would have been my response:  They were "indignant."  And the other disciples were not "indignant" in their own minds about it.  Mark wrote, "When the ten heard it, they began to be indignant at James and John."  Notice that little preposition in there, "at."  They put some kind of action behind their indignant thoughts.

In one respect, based on the American Way, we may not see what's wrong with what James and John requested.  From an early age we are taught to dream big, to strive hard to make something of ourselves, to not be satisfied with the lower rungs of the proverbial ladder of success, but to climb higher, to claw ourselves as near to the top as possible.  What's wrong with that kind of ambition.

Isn't it drummed into us to rise above the level of others?  To not be mediocre but to be great.  "You can be something great!" is the message.  To be a leader.  To have authority and power.  Who aspires to be average?  We figure there's something wrong with someone who gets on the corporate ladder and then decides the lower rungs are just fine and doesn't try to climb any higher.

Maybe that's how James and John thought.  They saw nothing wrong with their request.  They didn't want to hang around with the other disciples who were satisfied with just loitering at the base of the ladder.  James and John had their sights on higher things.  They had the dream of, "Some day when I'm at the top..."

Former Vice President, Nelson Rockefeller was one of those kinds of people who wanted to be great.  And once he got close to that top wrung of the ladder of success, he let people see it.  During one late night flight back to Washington from making a political speech in California, Rockefeller made a phone call.  His aides thought the call was something important, since it was made to someone in the Federal Government.

But what Rockefeller had done was call to tell someone he wanted the lights turned on at Mt. Rushmore.  A few minutes later when they were close, the private jet flew down for a private viewing of the monument, circling it a couple of times and then continuing on their journey.  One of Rockefeller's aides commented, "After that, I always figured the guy was immortal."

Notice that last comment.  Isn't that what James and John are aspiring to--immortality?  The top wrung?  To not just be obeyed, or admired, but worshipped?  There might be something in us that holds us back from the desire to be worshipped, but we'd sure like others to be in awe of our greatness, our power, our position, our God-likeness.

The sin of the Garden of Eden was the sin of the desire for that kind of power.  Adam and Eve wanted to be more, to have more, to know more than was their due or was their right or was their station as human beings.  They were tempted to "be like God."  That is what they were reaching for and attempting to grasp.  It was more than just the fruit they were reaching for.

When Muhammad Ali was in his prime as the world boxing champion, he was in a plane that was readying for take off.  The stewardess reminded him to fasten his seat belt.  He brashly retorted, "Superman don't need no seat belt."

To which the stewardess quickly shot back at him, "Superman don't need no airplane either."  Taken down a notch, Ali fastened his seat belt.

The sin of power is the yearning, or the desire caused by self-delusion, to be more than we were ever created to be.

Jesus had to remind James and John of that fact.  Notice he didn't just make his comments to James and John, but to all the disciples.  Let me remind you of what Jesus said:

You know that those who are supposed to rule over the Gentiles lord it over them and their great men exercise authority over them.  But it shall not be so among you;  but whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be slave of all.

To do what Jesus is asking appears to be giving up, giving in, going back to the first wrung of the ladder of success-intentionally—and staying there willfully.  It appears to be just so much nonsense, to we upwardly mobile people.

It is, in fact, humility.  Humility is what Jesus is asking of his followers.  Humility is even a fake virtue of the upwardly mobile, but it is never practiced.

Humility is one of those qualities that no one ever wants to say they have, because they are afraid if they do, they aren’t being humble any more.  So I think we need to try to understand what humility is, so we can start making these characteristics part of who we are, and so fulfill the will of the Lord.

Basically, humility is power under control.  Nothing is more dangerous than power under the control of arrogance.  That becomes false humility, always contesting itself against all other humilities.

Like the member of a religious monastery who was asked what his order stood for.  “Humility, the monk said in a word.  Then he added, “At humility, we’re the best in the world.”

Power under the discipline of humility is teachable.  As the world in our time seen so many know-it-alls?  And all of them have a blog and are on the internet.  It may not be that they know it all, but that they think what they know is more important, or better, than what anyone else knows.

The man who helped design the power system at Niagra Falls was Nikola Tesla.  Tesla was recommended by a mutual friend to work with inventor Thomas Edison.  Tesla was not awed by the great Edison.  On more than one occasion, Tesla disagreed with Edison, trying to prove him wrong.  After Tesla had been working with Edison for a number of months, the mutual friend asked Edison, “Is Tesla as good as I said he was?”

“Better,” was Edison’s grudging reply.  “He’s as good as he says he is.”

Power under the control of humility is teachable not arrogant.

Also, power under the control of humility is self-limiting.  This is probably one of the hardest of the characteristics of humility to hear.  With all the drums of pop-psychology banging away at the themes of self-actualization, self-fulfillment, and self-determination, we don’t want to hear the word, “self-limitation.”

Just look at the history of the progression of our magazine titles.  We started out with Time.  That’s pretty wide ranging.  And then on to Life.  Not much is bigger than life.  Then the scope of magazines after that starts narrowing.  First, there was “People.”  After that came, “Us.”  And finally, we come the center of the universe with “Self.”  Self Magazine.  I’ll bet there aren’t any articles in there about self-limitation.

Think about how everything Jesus did was self-limiting.  God in the flesh was born in a stable.  He spent his ministry amongst the insignificant people of his day.  He died between two thieves on a hill for outcasts.  Yet Jesus is the pivot point of history.  The year of his birth is the turning point of the calendar system.  He is the most insignificantly, significant figure in the history of the world.  Jesus is what power looks like in the control of humble self-limitation.

Tied in with this thought is that power under the control of humility means vulnerability.  The symbols of Godly power are the manger and the cross.  It is power unrecognized as power.  It looks like weakness.

Therefore, and I know this is hard to understand because it goes against all the ways and values of upward mobility, God’s power under the control of humility leads from weakness.  Such a style of leadership and living goes in direct contradiction to the society led by the strong and forceful.  And look where that’s gotten us.  As you watch the presidential debates, both Republican and Democrat, see if there is anything you can identify as Jesus’ humble power.

Do you want some power.  You will find it in Jesus in it’s most potent form.  All you have to do is be teachable under the guidance and authority of God.  Be self-limiting to the point of being a slave.  Be completely vulnerable in light of the manger and the cross.  Lead from weakness.  Be humble.

LifeStory Conversations

"LifeStory Conversations"

Mark 10:17-22

There are at least three assumptions I'm making in this message, so I'm going to just tell you what they are right up front.

First, people need to hear the gospel.

Second, the Gospel will not make sense unless it makes sense in the listeners lives.

Third, therefore, based on the first two, the one who carries the gospel needs to know two things:  the message of Jesus Christ; and, the story of the person who is being told that message.  Most mistakes are made in sharing the Gospel because people are not listened to, their stories are made to be insignificant to the sharing of the Gospel, so they feel like targets at which the message of Christ--like a dart--is thrown at them.

I think people like to talk about themselves.  I have found this to be generally true.  There is a story about the actress Mae West who, at a party, talked and talked about herself.  Then finally she said to those who were listening, "Enough about me.  Tell me, what did you think of my last film?"  Most people aren't egotistical in a Mae West sort of way.  But we nonetheless like to find people who are interested in us and our story.

It is in conversation with people--listening and talking--that discoveries are made about each other, what their lives mean and what our lives mean in light of the Gospel.

This kind of conversation has been called "Lifestory Conversations".  There is a little booklet by this name that I have used with churches to help them reach out to non-Christians or non-church members in a healthy and significant way.  The booklet describes four such lifestory conversations you can have with people.  I want to go over three of the four with you in a brief way this morning, and hopefully get you interested so you will take the "Lifestory Conversation" Workshop I will be offering in the near future.

The first kind of Lifestory Conversation is called "Life Review."  A life review conversation can be started by asking certain kinds of questions, like:

What is one of the best things that's happened to you, and why was it so good?

By your own standards, what have been some of your most meaningful achievements?

Complete this sentence:  "It gave me real happiness when..."

These kinds of questions are a conversational way to help people survey their lives in their current situation.  From that survey they can then make some observations about any changes they might need to make.  And then reflect upon their past.

Some other questions that could be asked might be:

Where have you been?  (Not just geographically, but also emotionally, relationship-wise, etc.)

Where are you now?  (In other words, at what point are you at now because of where you have been?)

Where are you going?  (What's ahead for your future?  What are you looking forward to in life?)

I particularly like the third question because it has to do with future and hope.  It will give you an insight into the person you are talking to in terms of whether they are a person who is locked in the past and constantly looking backward, or if they are someone who is hopeful about their future.  Do they think their future is going to be bigger or better than their past?

I read an article recently about a homeless amnesiac.  He remembers working as a Wall Street banker, hearing his mother speak French, living in southern Florida, going skiing, and having a dog named Woofy.  But that's about it.

He was found one winter taking shelter in a luggage compartment on a Greyhound bus in Springfield, Missouri.  He was suffering from frostbite and exposure.  He had nothing on him that cleared up the question of who he was.

Even after doing nationwide searches through the FBI, no one is any closer to finding out who the guy is.  "He has a few nice memories," his social worker said in the interview.  "But without knowing much about his past, it's hard for him to put together his future," the social worker said.

So many people don't need to have amnesia to feel like they don't know where they are going in life.  They remember their past, but they may think their past is not substantial enough to build a new future upon.  That's the work of this first part of Lifestory Conversation:  helping people understand their past and present, so that they can then be engaged with the Gospel about their future with God.

The story of Zacchaeus in Luke 19, the wee little tax collector who climbed a tree to see Jesus is a great case in point.  At verse 7 Jesus went to be the guest of Zacchaeus the tax collector.  People were grumbling that Jesus got cozy with someone like Zacchaeus.  At verse 8, Zacchaeus told Jesus, "Look, Lord, half of my possessions I now give to the poor, and if I have cheated anyone of anything, I am paying back four times as much!"

My question is, "What happened between verse 7 and verse 8?  Did Jesus have a "life review" kind of conversation with Zacchaeus, and after hearing his story, Jesus knew what Zacchaeus needed to hear from the Gospel about his new future?   But Jesus may not have been able to get Zacchaeus to that place of amazing generosity without hearing Zacchaeus' story first.  Those are the conversations we need to have with others before we share the gospel.  If we listen first, help the person do some life review, then share the Gospel based on what the person told us, some amazing transformations can take place.

The second kind of Lifestory Conversation we can have with others is called "Search for Inner Meaning."

After you have laid the groundwork of life review, it is hard not to begin to see the meanings that are attached to the various events of our lives.  Often, if not most of the time, it is not the events and experiences themselves that create the impact on our lives, but the meanings we quickly associate with those events and experiences.

An engineer, a psychologist and a Pastor were on a hunting trip in northern Canada.  They came to an isolated cabin and knocked on the door hoping to get some shelter from the cold.  No one was home, but the front door was unlocked, so they walked right in.

Inside the cabin there was a large, potbellied, cast-iron stove, suspended in midair by wires attached to the ceiling beams.  Why would a stove be elevated from the floor?  The psychologist concluded, "It is obvious that this lonely trapper, isolated from humanity, has elevated his stove so he can curl up under it and vicariously experience a return to his mother's womb."

The engineer disagreed.  "This man is practicing the laws of thermodynamics.  By elevating his stove, he has discovered a way to distribute heat more evenly throughout the cabin."

But the Pastor said, "I disagree.  I'm sure that hanging his stove from the ceiling has a religious meaning.  Fire lifted up on the altar of his stove connects him to the ancient religious practices over the centuries."

Just then the trapper returned.  They immediately asked him why he had hung his stove by wires from the ceiling.  The trapper said, simply, "Had plenty of wire, but not much stovepipe."

The meanings we attach to the events in our lives can be just as outlandish as the three hunters did with the stove.  We take the odd, painful, exciting experiences of life and almost always interpret them as more than they simply are.  When we figure out the simpler, more honest meanings of the events we experience we can then be freed up to reinterpret those meanings and see the event differently--even our lives differently.

The story of Nicodemus in John 3 is a great example here.  Remember Nicodemus is that highly respected Pharisee who came to speak with Jesus in the dark of night.  He was in some sort of midlife crisis and needed help.  So he came under the cover of darkness to speak with Jesus.  How was Nicodemus interpreting the events of his life?  What were the meanings he attached to his life experiences that left him in a state of confusion and anxiety?

Thursday was National Poetry Day.  I immersed myself in poetry, posting a poem an hour on Facebook.  There were some powerful words in those poems.  One poem I found was by Jane Kenyon.  She wrestled with depression her whole life, as did her husband.  One of her poems is titled, "The Pear."

There is a moment in middle age

when you grow bored, angered

by your middling mind,

afraid.

That day the sun

burns hot and bright,

making you more desolate.

It happens subtly, as when a pear

spoils from the inside out,

and you many not be aware

until things have gone too far.

That is a sad meaning that many people attach to their lives. That their lives have rotted from the inside out and now it's too late to do anything about it.   And that's the sentiment behind Nicodemus' question to Jesus, "How can a grown man be born again?"  "How can I find a way to make the spoiled fresh again?"  Nicodemus can't see any other meanings for the events in his life other than utter hopelessness and unreclaimable deterioration.  Jesus, after hearing Nicodemus' story, reframes the meanings of Nicodemus' life in terms of rebrith, and all of a sudden Nicodemus sees he can be free and live differently into his future.

But Jesus wouldn't have been able to guide Nicodemus in that direction if he didn't first have that conversation with him.  Jesus needed to hear Nicodemus' story before he could reframe new meanings for Nicodemus and get him out of the hole he was in.

A final strategy of Lifestory Conversations is "linking our story with the story."  So much of our society has become hurried, surface activity.  So much of what we do is flat and one dimensional.  Our language has become more like empty blogger verbage, pushing away the depth of the poetic language of wonder and awe.

Samuel Miller, in commenting about our time, wrote,

In man's life everything has been denuded of its religious quality.  Birth, puberty, marriage, sin, death--once pivotal points of spiritual significance--have now lost their sacramental depth.  Everything has become natural, biological, social and quite clinical.  There are no distances, no depth, no essential mysteries.  Everything is on the surface.

Taking a look at our own story, and helping others take a look at theirs, can put us in touch with the realization that there is another whole story that is surrounding our own.  That we are part of something much, much bigger if we had just been paying attention.  There is a deep undercurrent with powerful rhythms, sometimes moving in an opposite direction from the surface.

Joseph's story of being sold into slavery by his brothers in the book of Genesis is a perfect here.  Remember Joseph was his father's favorite.  Joseph was given the coat of many colors by his father--which made the brothers jealous.

After being sold as a slave by his brothers, a series of circumstances led Joseph to eventually become the second in command to Pharaoh himself.  With a famine in the land, Joseph was in a position to get his brothers out of Israel and into Egypt to make sure they didn't starve to death.

Joseph's brothers can't believe it is him, and what he has attained.  They are afraid Joseph is going to have them killed.  But because Joseph saw the bigger picture, he was able to say to his brothers, at the end of their story, "As for you, you meant to harm me, but God intended it for good purpose, so he could preserve the lives of many people..."  Joseph saw God's larger story going on in his and his families life.  But his brothers only saw what they had done, but not the bigger movements of God, even in the negative circumstances of Joseph's slavery and imprisonment.

Here is the ultimate aim of Lifestory Conversations as a healthy form of evangelism:  to joyfully discover this other Story--this Story that is larger than ourselves that is of God.

The purpose of Lifestory Conversations in evangelism is to enable a person to hear the Biblical story and to say, "That is my story, too."  When that happens, gradually or suddenly, we can say conversion has taken place.  The Bible is the story of "every person" (and how God is working in every person's life).

But you can't lead anyone to that point until you have the conversation first--the Lifestory conversation that helps them understand and then embrace the God of the larger story. 

The Big D

"The Big D"

Mark 10:1-12

Think about all your relationships.

There were probably some people you grew up with, who were close friends, and you thought you would always be friends.  And then life happens.  You grow in different ways.  You make decisions; they make choices.  You both become different people.  You grow apart.

There were probably some people you met in college, with whom you grew close.  You were older.  It wasn't high school anymore.  You were more sophisticated.  You got a little smarter.  People in the dorm or a class seemed attractive as far as friendship goes.  Then college ends.  You and your friends graduated.  Maybe got married.  Life and miles and occupations happen.  You just grew apart.

You make friends over Facebook.  You shoot quirky messages back and forth.  You get to know each other.  But the more you communicate, the less you realize you have in common with that other person.  Or maybe they are someone you know, but they go all Facebook nasty on you.  So you "unfriend" them.  Cut them off from your Facebook world.  It happens.

So many of the relationships we have through life change and go by the wayside.    We may feel sad about that.  We may say, "That's life; that's just the way it is."  The loss of some relationships may not bother us a whole lot.  Other relationship losses may create a deep sadness.  But most loss of relationships, for whatever reason, just basically get absorbed in the ebb and flow of life.  We take those changes as a matter of course.

Except one.  Except one relationship.  Marriage.  When married couples split, and end their relationship, and go through the whole divorce process, the weight of that break up carries more stigma and social damage than if you "unfriended" someone, either on Facebook or more visibly from your circle of friends.

To say to a long time friend, "I am no longer going to have anything to do with you," just doesn't carry the weight of saying the same thing to a spouse.  To say, "We just grew apart," in describing a friendship ending just isn't the same as making that same statement about the one you are married to.  People might nod their head in understanding if you say that about the end of a friendship.  You may not get the same knowing nod when you say that out loud about your marriage partner.

A marriage relationship comes with much higher expectations and deeper resolves.  So when the marriage ends in divorce, as it does for half of us, there is more stigma, more shame, more misunderstanding and lack of understanding and empathy, than when other kinds of relationships end or slowly go their separate ways.

A large part of the reason for this is we don't stand up in front of a group of people at church when we declare we are pledging our friendship to another person.  We don't have a celebrative ceremony or rite for promising our lifelong friendship.  But we do when we get married.  We stand "before God and these witnesses" to pledge our undying and eternal love for each other as a married couple.  Because of that ceremony, we feel a deeper sense of regret and shame when that promise and vow just doesn't work out--for one reason or another.

Divorce has always been a great difficulty for couples and families to deal with.  So much so that a number of sociologists and psychologists have been writing lately, wondering if human beings are even capable of such a "forever" kind of relationship.

It certainly was so back in Jesus' day.  Divorce was a huge issue.  A totally unresolved issue.   There were two major schools of Rabbis that had two very different outlooks about divorce.  The school of the rabbi Shammai taught that divorce should be allowed solely if there was adultery involved.  If one or both in a couple were unfaithful, that was an unrepairable breach in the marriage, and it could and should be dissolved.

But the other school of the rabbi Hillel, one of the most famous of rabbi's in Jewish history, taught that divorce should be allowed for any reason that would cause the marriage to be broken.  And since the rights of the marriage laid more heavily in the husbands favor, if the wife repeatedly burned the meal, or he didn't like how his wife was raising the children, or if the wife talked funny,  papers would be written up and the wife was out.

Guess which school of rabbi's teaching on divorce was more popular at the time of Jesus.

Even though the divorce papers had to be approved by the Sanhedrin (the Jewish court made up of priests and Pharisees) the divorces were nearly always approved in favor of the husband.

One of the main pieces of scriptural law that the Sanhedrin used in approving a divorce was Deuteronomy 24:1, which reads:

If a man marries a woman and then it happens that he no longer likes her because he has found something wrong with her, he may give her divorce papers, put them in her hand, and send her off.

The main point of discussion from this verse, between the two schools of rabbi's was that little phrase, "...found something wrong with her..."  What exactly does that mean?  This statement is from Moses, remember, so it carries a lot of weight.  Moses doesn't give any further description of what "something wrong" might be.  And I'm sure, especially if you are a woman, you heard quite clearly, "...something wrong with her."  Not him.  Certainly husbands can do no wrong.

Although, there is that modern saying, "If a husband speaks in the woods, and his wife isn't there to hear him, is he still wrong?"

So divorce is one of those sticky, long-time issues (and I mean long-time) that just won't go away.  Is divorce permitted, and if so, for what reason?  That's the question the Pharisees came up and hit Jesus with:  "Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?"

Mark told us that the Pharisees asked this question to "test" Jesus.  The word means to scrutinize.  It doesn't appear that the Pharisees were out to trap Jesus, like they did time-after-time.  They just wanted to know if Jesus sided with the Hillel or Shammai rabbinical school on this prickly issue of divorce.  It's not clear if Jesus would have gotten in trouble with his answer, if that answer sided with one Rabbi or the other.

It appears Jesus sided with Shammai.  That Jesus went along with the stricter definition of divorce.  Maybe that's what the Pharisees were hoping, since it was the more unpopular interpretation of Moses' words.  Jesus' answer would clearly make him unpopular with the people who liked the more "liberal" interpretation of divorce-for-any-reason.

But, as what usually happens with Jesus, he undercuts both schools of thought at the time, and establishes his own.  Look again at Jesus' full reply:

But Jesus said to them, "For your hardness of heart, Moses wrote you this commandment.  But from the beginning of creation, 'God made them male and female.'  'For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.'  So they are no longer two but one flesh.  What therefore God has joined together, let not man put asunder."  (10:5-9)

First, there are a couple of words I want you to pay attention to.  They actually are the same word, occurring at the start of two of Jesus' statements.  It is the word, "But..."  Think back to Jesus' Sermon on the Mount.  There was a part of that sermon where Jesus does a back-and-forth thing where he says, "You have heard that the Law of Moses says...But I say to you..."  The two Buts at the start of Jesus' teaching about divorce, thus signals for us that Jesus is about to make one of his great reversals.

The first reversal is to interpret Moses entirely different.  The Pharisees were reading the verse in Deuteronomy as law from the very mouth of Moses.  But Jesus discounts Moses by saying that Moses didn't utter this statement as if from the mouth of God, but simply because Moses felt like he had to make a concession to the total waywardness of the people.  Moses wasn't making law, Jesus was saying.  Moses was simply throwing up his hands at the total lack of commitment exhibited by the people in their marriage relationships.  Moses was giving in, while still trying to put forth at least a remnant of marital morality.

So Jesus' first "But" had to do with the Pharisee's total misinterpretation and misreading of Moses.  Moses' statement about divorce said more about the misguided and self-centered people rather than Moses' authority to issue a law on the subject of divorce.

Which leads us to the second "But" in Jesus statement.  Jesus' second "But" was followed by a quote from Genesis about God's intentions for marriage.  If the Pharisees were smart enough they would have realized Jesus was saying Moses doesn't even get a say about defining what marriage is all about and what it takes to dissolve that special relationship.  Jesus is forcing the Pharisees--and the disciples and the people listening in--to understand Moses isn't the authority on this issue.  God is.  God created marriage--created the male-female relationship--so it is God who must be consulted in all things concerning marriage.

So, what Jesus does to turn the tables, is first remove Moses and his statement from the acceptable justifications made for divorce.  Only God gets to do that.  Then, Jesus further upends the tables by telling what God's purposes are for marriage, not what God's allowances are for divorce.  That's where the emphasis should be--on God's purposes for marriage.

The first thing Jesus said about marriage is that it involves a male and a female.  God intentionally made two distinct genders.  God didn't make just one gender.  Instead, there was something that God definitely had in mind by creating two different kinds of humans.

Jesus then goes on to say that the intention of God for making two distinct genders was so that they could come together.  The word Jesus used for coming together literally means to be glued together.  God's intentions for the two genders--for a man and a woman--is to be glued, or stuck, together.  That these two genders will leave their parental, growing up family world, and be glued together so-to-speak.

And finally, as Jesus is defining what a marriage relationship is here, that the two different genders will become "one flesh."  The word one means one, but in terms of cardinal.  Like we would use that term in a sentence like, "This is the cardinal rule."  This is the one, most important thing to remember.  So, "one flesh" would be like saying, "This is the one cardinal relationship--two very distinct genders, coming together as if they were glued together, to form the one foundational and cardinal of all relationships.

And who did all this?  God.  This cardinal relationship of a man and woman being solidified together is the work of God, and done by the very intentions of God to form the basis of all other existing relationships.  All other relationships flow out of this one cardinal, basic relationship of a man and a woman coming together in a permanent unity under God.

Then Jesus makes the ultimate statement:  "What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate."  In other words, we don't get to mess with God's intentions and creation of the marriage relationship.  We shouldn't be looking at all the ways we can creatively mess with that relationship that God created.  Instead we should be concentrating on what God intended for that marriage relationship:  a unity, a glue, for all subsequent relationships to flow out of that one, cardinal relationship of a man and a woman.

Without the strength of that one, cardinal, God built relationship, all other relationships that use the marriage relationship of a man and a woman as a foundation, will fall into ruin and disrepair.