"Face Reality"
Luke 24:13-35
Life can become such serious business.
In one Peanuts comic strip, Charlie Brown is feeling the seriousness of life. He walks along, shoulders drooping, mouth turned down, eyes blank, and an audible "sigh" is exhaled from deep within himself. He sits himself down at Lucy's Psychiatric Help booth, and the gloomy look on his face has infected Lucy with the same blank stare.
"I've never felt more low in all my life," Charlie Brown starts out. "I don't seem to fit in anywhere! I don't seem to belong! Everything I try is a disaster!"
"Well," replies Lucy, "try looking at life this way…People are like decks of cards…we're all part of the deck…some are aces, others are tens, or nines, or twos…We all can't be face cards, can we? We can't all be kings and queens."
"No, I guess not," Charlie Brown mutters.
Lucy continues, with her head resting on her arms on the desktop of the booth, "Maybe you're the two of clubs, Charlie Brown."
"I doubt it," he retorts. "Even the two of clubs takes a trick now and then!"
Poor Charlie Brown. All through that conversation with Lucy, his face reflected the deep sadness that he was expressing. All the depression, all the loneliness that he tries to hold in gushes up and flows out through his face.
One day, Calvin, in the Calvin and Hobbes comic strip, is blowing bubbles with his bubble gum. He blew a huge bubble and it popped covering his whole head with gum. He can't see anything, and in his wildly imaginative way, says, "Omigosh, I just blew my face inside out." There's an odd sort of truth to Calvin's statement, in that our faces are our feelings popped out. Our faces are covered with our feelings, our emotions, our heart and souls, blown inside out, so-to-speak.
Our faces are the permanent records of the inner meanings we give to our life experiences. Our faces are the outward, visible forms of our temperament and disposition, health or sickness, trouble or joy, disappointments or successes. No matter how well we think we are at masking our faces, trying to coverup our interior condition, it still leaks out, and usually is as clear as if we had just popped a bubble gum bubble all over ourselves.
By sheer numbers, the face has more muscles in it than all the muscles in our arms and legs combined. Because of the number and the shape and the placement of those muscles, the combination of facial expressions is nearly limitless. The constant pull on these muscles by our inner emotional condition will determine our permanent facial characteristics. (Unless you have a face lift or plastic surgery, of course.) Infants have typically smooth faces. They have a virtual clean slate on which to work. As we live out our lives, year after year, our experiences are written upon that clean slate.
One of Abraham Lincoln's aides asked why a certain man, who had many qualifications, was not appointed to a cabinet position. Lincoln replied, "I didn't like his face."
Lincoln's adviser protested, "You can't turn a man down for a reason like that. He can't help the way he looks."
But Abraham Lincoln sternly replied, "Show me a man who is forty years old who is not responsible for his face!"
One of the only parts of my body that I can't see, without some assistance, is my face. Except by a mirror, the only other way I can see my face is how others reflect it back to me. Someone else may be brave enough to tell me what my facial expression looks like, especially if I have gotten too serious, or it has gotten too stoically unreadable.
But there's another level to all of this. My face, your faces, do not only picture what's going on inside, they also determine how and what we see. They determine how we choose to be, and the attitude with which we approach life. It is as if we are not only seeing with our faces, we are seeing life through our faces. If our faces are serious and gloomy, then generally we will view life through that seriousness and gloom.
In another Peanuts comic strip, Lucy is talking to Snoopy. One of the Peanuts gang is having a party, and Lucy wasn't invited. She can't figure it out. "Why shouldn't I be invited to a party?" she asks Snoopy, who is standing and listening dutifully. "Go ahead and tell me!" she demands of Snoopy. "Come on, tell me!"
Snoopy thinks to himself for a minute, and by the expression on his face you can tell he is trying to decide if he should tell the truth. Finally, Snoopy gives Lucy an answer. Snoopy screws his face up into a mean and sullen scowl and confronted Lucy with it. In the last frame, Lucy is angrily chasing Snoopy and shouting, "WHO SAYS I'M CRABBY!!?"
What is sculpted on our faces, being etched and formed by what's going on inside of us, is also, then, how we look at life. It not only forms our looks. It also determines how we see.
That is why I think the disciples, walking the road together, heading for home—a village called Emmaus—did not recognize the resurrected Jesus. There was that one line from Luke's story of this conversation that caught my attention. Jesus had just asked them what they were talking about as they walked along, and here's that line:
The two of them stood there looking sad and gloomy. Then the one named Cleopas asked Jesus, “Are you the only person from Jerusalem who didn’t know what was happening there these last few days?”
The two disciples had faces "looking sad and gloomy." Their expressions told the truth of what they were feeling inside. The experience of having to stand by and watch Jesus be arrested, run through a kangaroo court, spiked to a cross, die, and then laid away in a rock solid tomb was just too much. It would have been for anyone. It would have been hard, if not impossible, to mask away the raw seriousness of life that they had encountered. The way they moped along the road and the cloudy overcast appearance of their faces gave Jesus a clear reading of what lay within their spirits.
By their explanation to Jesus about what they had been talking about, Jesus was able to pick up on how much the two men were also viewing the events they described through their faces. The men's faces were not only "sad and gloomy," but also the way they were looking at the events of the past two days was sad and gloomy. That gloom shaded everything they saw, and would see from that day forward.
Have you heard the story about the minister who went to visit a woman from his congregation? The woman's face was a picture of bitterness. Everything that came out of her mouth matched her face.
At one point, the woman who lived next door came out of her house with a basket of laundry and began hanging it on the clothes line to dry. "Do you see that woman's laundry?" the woman the pastor was visiting asked brusquely. "She never gets it clean. It's alway dingy and gray. Probably doesn't use any detergent."
After a while, the minister concluded his visit, and as they were standing outside, he glanced over at the wash that was hanging on the line next door. It was as clean and bright as the sun. He realized then that it wasn't the washed clothes that were dingy and gray. It was the windows of the bitter woman's house. It was what they were looking through, not what they were looking at, that determined what they saw.
Jesus was aware, then, what the problem was, was the gloomy faces the disciples were looking through, not what they were looking at. It was what the disciples were looking through that kept them from really seeing clearly. What they had to see clearly was not only who this stranger was, but what the events of the past two days really meant. But their gloomy "windows" prevented them.
Jesus' tactic was to firmly reprimand them, not for their faces, but for what lay beneath their faces: "…how slow of heart you are to believe…" (vs. 25). Most of the time we go for the face, thinking if we change the outward appearance, the inward will magically change as well. "Smile, it'll make you feel better." Or, a bit more brusque, "Smile, it ain't gonna break your face." But Jesus bypassed the gloomy faces and reached down directly into the gloomy hearts of the two disciples. He changed the faces by affecting a change in what lay behind and beneath the faces—the human heart.
How did Jesus do that?
First, Jesus approached the two disciples. Our basic inclination, when we see someone with a face like the disciples had is to avoid them. Such crabby people are the ones we wouldn't want at our parties. Who wants to be around such serious looking, depressed people? There certainly must have been other people on the road, making their way home after the festival in Jerusalem was over. Certainly some of them would have been smiling, even laughing. Much more pleasant faces than the two disciples wore. But still, Jesus took the risk and approached them. Started up a conversation. And even when the two snapped back at Jesus with a caustic reply, he hung in there with them. He kept walking with them. He let them ventilate their feelings. He let them talk. He listened.
Secondly, when they were done, Jesus got their attention with a quick reprimand. Then slowly, carefully, Jesus began to deal with their inside problem. How Jesus did that was to redefine the meanings of the past two days events for the disciples. Usually it isn't an event itself that creates gloom in our lives; it is more the meaning we give to those events that make us so embittered. A crisis flares in our life, and what we immediately do is begin to layer on what we think that crisis means for our lives and how we think it's going to affect us. We try to figure out how the crisis got to the point it did, or why it did, and layer meanings upon all that. If you let all those meanings pile up, but you never check them out to see if they are really true or accurate, you become overwhelmed. Another word for overwhelmed is gloomy.
What Jesus does for those two disciples is to slowly and carefully examine and change the meanings behind the events of the past two days: "Jesus then explained everything written about himself in the Scriptures…" The disciples gradually began to see more clearly, from the inside out. When they finally realized who Jesus was and the truth of what he had been telling them, Jesus left them to let the whole impact settle upon them, and upon their faces. Lo and behold! It worked! The two men suddenly look at each other, both probably saying at the same time, "Did we not feel our hearts on fire as he talked with us on the road and explained the scriptures to us?"
Did you catch that? Their hearts were set on fire. From the inside out, they were transformed. As they stood and looked at each other, what would you guess their faces portrayed? "Without a moments delay," Luke wrote, "they set out and returned to Jerusalem." And through what kind of face do you think they were seeing on this return trip?
Sunday, April 30, 2017
Sunday, April 23, 2017
Finally, Easter Is Over
"Finally, Easter Is Over"
Luke 24:1-12
I'm not sure how your Holy Week and Easter went, but mine was somewhat tense wondering how I was going to get everything done. It wasn't that I had a lot of busy work tasks that needed accomplishing. It was all the writing I was going to be doing. Between Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday I had five messages to write, one of which was a funeral service and message.
After the Easter worship service was over, I ambled across the parking lot to the office, sat on my little couch, and stared straight ahead for close to 20 minutes. Finally, Easter and Holy Week were over. The thought that struck me, as I sat there, was, Man, I wrote a lot of words this week. That's all my mind could think of—how many words my sausage sized fingers typed out on my little MacBook Air.
This past Thursday, after breakfast, Alan asked me if I had my sermon all done. I said I had barely started. He was surprised because he knows I like to have it mostly done by Wednesday. I replied I was kind of coasting this week, not sure if I had any words left to write another sermon. But here I am, so you know I completed the task.
I admit, with a bit of disgrace, after a week like Holy Week, I was glad it was all over. I had that, Finally-Easter-Is-Over kind of feeling. I felt guilty, then, for feeling that kind of feeling. I wondered if the disciples had that feeling also. They didn't have to write sermons about it; they had to live through it. I know how emotionally exhausted I was just writing message after message. It's hard to imagine what it would be like living through all those Holy Week experiences like the disciples did.
I think I got a glimpse of it, though, in the Easter story that Nick read from Luke. It's that part where Peter runs to the tomb, sticks his head in, looks around, and leaves to go home.
I mean, how long was Peter there? A few minutes at best? Took a look, said, "Hmmm," shrugged his shoulders, and left? It says he was "amazed." Yeah, for 15 seconds. Not amazed enough to stick around and see if there was something more to check out. Just what was he amazed about?
To his credit, he did go to the tomb, despite the other disciples pooh-poohing the women's story that the tomb was empty. But for Peter's trip to the tomb, at least, the Resurrection didn't last long. Did Peter stay only a few seconds because he was worn out from all that happened that week, and he only had enough emotional energy to be "amazed" a short while?
A much shorter time than the Resurrection lasts for most people—a day, that is, the day of; the time they spend in worship Easter morning; the amount of time when they get up on Easter morning, and have the passing thought, Oh, yeah, it's Easter. Or as long as it takes to walk through Walmart and peruse the aisle that has all the Reese's peanut butter eggs and marshmallow Peeps.
Finally, all that's over! Now we can get on to real holidays like Mother's Day and Graduation Day. We can go back to Walmart and buy Easter candy, cheap (and give it to your mother as a gift)! We don't have to hear about all that blood, singing songs with words like the river of blood that flows from Immanuel's veins. We can put the plastic eggs away for another year. We don't have to tell the improbable stories anymore about either an Easter bunny who hides candy-filled eggs around our homes, or, of a man who was horribly killed but came back to life.
The people whom Nick Squires calls the ChEasters (people who come to church Christmas and Easter) have fulfilled one half of their yearly worship obligation. And then add to that the Sunday after Easter and the Sunday after Christmas are traditionally the lowest attended Sunday's for church.
That dreaded season of Lent has ended, so whatever it was we gave up can now again be over-indulged. No more serious self-reflection or introspection of where we are in our Christian faith—which only a handful of people did—and can now wait until Advent in December to do it again.
YIPEE!! We're done with all that! All that is over, come and gone! Finally, Easter is over! We can be like the disciple Peter who was amazed for a moment, then "went back home." Carry on. Life unaffected.
But it's not. Easter, I mean. Easter is not over. Well, let me qualify that. The Easter that involves bunnies (hollow chocolate or real); plastic, hard-boiled, or Cadbury eggs; baskets filled with that annoying green stuff that you will be vacuuming up strands of for weeks; all that is over.
The Easter that has to do with Jesus, the empty tomb, the Resurrection—that is not over. It will never be over. If you think you get to stick your head in the tomb and see it's empty, then go home, that's not going to cut it.
The reason it isn't over, and will never be over, is because Jesus won't let it. The Resurrection is about Jesus, not the disciples and their unwillingness to believe. It is about Jesus risen from the dead whether the disciples choose to believe or not—whether you choose to believe or not. It isn't about belief, like if I believe in the Tooth Fairy or not (which I do). It's not about belief; it's about acknowledging the truth.
It is the risen Christ's resolve to not just let Peter stick his head in the tomb and go home. The risen Christ is not going to let Peter or us do as little as possible in coming to the truth of the Resurrection. You have to first believe the truth of the Resurrection's happening before you can believe in what it means.
That's the strategy Jesus takes. A few days later all the disciples are together. There's definitely some confusion in the air. Two or three of the disciples have claimed they've seen Jesus alive. The disciples have all gathered to hear their stories. Have these others really seen Jesus or not? Are the stories believable or not? Do the others believe simply based on what two or three witnesses say they saw—especially the women witnesses?
Some of the disciples are clearly jealous of the two or three who say they have seen Jesus: "Why did they get to see, and not we?" Especially since one of those who hadn't seen Jesus yet was Peter—the stick-my-head-in-the-tomb-and-go-home guy.
In the middle of the disciples confabulation (yes, that's a word; look it up in dictionary.com), Jesus appears. Because, like I said, the Resurrection is about the truth of Jesus, not the disciples. Behind locked doors, Jesus appeared to them all. In the midst of their doubt and discussion, their jealousy and pettiness, Jesus appeared. How did they react?
They were terrified, thinking that they were seeing a ghost" (Luke 24:37)
But then, what did Jesus say in response to their terror?
But Jesus said, “Why are you so frightened? Why do you doubt? Look at my hands and my feet and see who I am! Touch me and find out for yourselves. (Luke 24:38-39)
Let me read that last line again: "Touch me and find out for yourselves." That is so important. Jesus knows that the disciples aren't going to care about what all the Resurrection means for them and the people of the world concerning the fear of death and the battle against evil. All that won't matter unless they first believe the Resurrection happened. That it was real. That it is the truth. You have to first believe it happened before you can believe in what it means.
It's that way with a number of historical facts. Some don't believe Hitler had so many people killed. It doesn't matter if you believe that, as if your belief, or lack of it, will change history—it's a historical fact. Some people don't believe Shakespeare wrote all those plays. It doesn't matter whether they believe it or not—it's a historical fact. Some people don't believe United States astronauts landed and walked on the moon. It doesn't matter if they believe that or not—it's a historical fact that it happened. What you believe may or may not have happened doesn't change a historical occurrence, just because you believe it's so. Belief isn't going to alter the facts. Beliefs can alter what the facts mean, but not the facts themselves.
That's what Jesus is about and trying to accomplish in the early days after the Resurrection—just getting the disciples to believe the truth of it. 1 Corinthians 15:4-7 says:
Christ died for our sins,
as the Scriptures say.
He was buried,
and three days later
he was raised to life,
as the Scriptures say.
Christ appeared to Peter,
then to the twelve.
After this, he appeared
to more than five hundred
other followers.
Most of them are still alive,
but some have died.
He also appeared to James,
and then to all
of the apostles.
John started out his first letter with these words:
The Word that gives life
was from the beginning,
and this is the one
our message is about.
Our ears have heard,
our own eyes have seen,
and our hands touched
this Word.
The one who gives life appeared! We saw it happen, and we are witnesses to what we have seen.
So many people actually saw the risen Jesus. Over 500. That was Jesus' intention—to get a large number of people to actually see him, hear him, and touch him. And then turn those people loose to go out into the world and tell the truth—Jesus was dead and is now alive. That's where we all have to start. Not, do you believe it. But do you accept Jesus' Resurrection as a historical truth?
That's why Easter isn't over, and will never be over. Each new generation (including the millennials—who may or may not exist) has to accept the fact and truth of the Resurrection. That is our task, as those who have accepted the truth.
And then we move on to tell what the Resurrection means. Which is another whole sermon (or 10) with a whole lot more words.
Luke 24:1-12
I'm not sure how your Holy Week and Easter went, but mine was somewhat tense wondering how I was going to get everything done. It wasn't that I had a lot of busy work tasks that needed accomplishing. It was all the writing I was going to be doing. Between Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday I had five messages to write, one of which was a funeral service and message.
After the Easter worship service was over, I ambled across the parking lot to the office, sat on my little couch, and stared straight ahead for close to 20 minutes. Finally, Easter and Holy Week were over. The thought that struck me, as I sat there, was, Man, I wrote a lot of words this week. That's all my mind could think of—how many words my sausage sized fingers typed out on my little MacBook Air.
This past Thursday, after breakfast, Alan asked me if I had my sermon all done. I said I had barely started. He was surprised because he knows I like to have it mostly done by Wednesday. I replied I was kind of coasting this week, not sure if I had any words left to write another sermon. But here I am, so you know I completed the task.
I admit, with a bit of disgrace, after a week like Holy Week, I was glad it was all over. I had that, Finally-Easter-Is-Over kind of feeling. I felt guilty, then, for feeling that kind of feeling. I wondered if the disciples had that feeling also. They didn't have to write sermons about it; they had to live through it. I know how emotionally exhausted I was just writing message after message. It's hard to imagine what it would be like living through all those Holy Week experiences like the disciples did.
I think I got a glimpse of it, though, in the Easter story that Nick read from Luke. It's that part where Peter runs to the tomb, sticks his head in, looks around, and leaves to go home.
I mean, how long was Peter there? A few minutes at best? Took a look, said, "Hmmm," shrugged his shoulders, and left? It says he was "amazed." Yeah, for 15 seconds. Not amazed enough to stick around and see if there was something more to check out. Just what was he amazed about?
To his credit, he did go to the tomb, despite the other disciples pooh-poohing the women's story that the tomb was empty. But for Peter's trip to the tomb, at least, the Resurrection didn't last long. Did Peter stay only a few seconds because he was worn out from all that happened that week, and he only had enough emotional energy to be "amazed" a short while?
A much shorter time than the Resurrection lasts for most people—a day, that is, the day of; the time they spend in worship Easter morning; the amount of time when they get up on Easter morning, and have the passing thought, Oh, yeah, it's Easter. Or as long as it takes to walk through Walmart and peruse the aisle that has all the Reese's peanut butter eggs and marshmallow Peeps.
Finally, all that's over! Now we can get on to real holidays like Mother's Day and Graduation Day. We can go back to Walmart and buy Easter candy, cheap (and give it to your mother as a gift)! We don't have to hear about all that blood, singing songs with words like the river of blood that flows from Immanuel's veins. We can put the plastic eggs away for another year. We don't have to tell the improbable stories anymore about either an Easter bunny who hides candy-filled eggs around our homes, or, of a man who was horribly killed but came back to life.
The people whom Nick Squires calls the ChEasters (people who come to church Christmas and Easter) have fulfilled one half of their yearly worship obligation. And then add to that the Sunday after Easter and the Sunday after Christmas are traditionally the lowest attended Sunday's for church.
That dreaded season of Lent has ended, so whatever it was we gave up can now again be over-indulged. No more serious self-reflection or introspection of where we are in our Christian faith—which only a handful of people did—and can now wait until Advent in December to do it again.
YIPEE!! We're done with all that! All that is over, come and gone! Finally, Easter is over! We can be like the disciple Peter who was amazed for a moment, then "went back home." Carry on. Life unaffected.
But it's not. Easter, I mean. Easter is not over. Well, let me qualify that. The Easter that involves bunnies (hollow chocolate or real); plastic, hard-boiled, or Cadbury eggs; baskets filled with that annoying green stuff that you will be vacuuming up strands of for weeks; all that is over.
The Easter that has to do with Jesus, the empty tomb, the Resurrection—that is not over. It will never be over. If you think you get to stick your head in the tomb and see it's empty, then go home, that's not going to cut it.
The reason it isn't over, and will never be over, is because Jesus won't let it. The Resurrection is about Jesus, not the disciples and their unwillingness to believe. It is about Jesus risen from the dead whether the disciples choose to believe or not—whether you choose to believe or not. It isn't about belief, like if I believe in the Tooth Fairy or not (which I do). It's not about belief; it's about acknowledging the truth.
It is the risen Christ's resolve to not just let Peter stick his head in the tomb and go home. The risen Christ is not going to let Peter or us do as little as possible in coming to the truth of the Resurrection. You have to first believe the truth of the Resurrection's happening before you can believe in what it means.
That's the strategy Jesus takes. A few days later all the disciples are together. There's definitely some confusion in the air. Two or three of the disciples have claimed they've seen Jesus alive. The disciples have all gathered to hear their stories. Have these others really seen Jesus or not? Are the stories believable or not? Do the others believe simply based on what two or three witnesses say they saw—especially the women witnesses?
Some of the disciples are clearly jealous of the two or three who say they have seen Jesus: "Why did they get to see, and not we?" Especially since one of those who hadn't seen Jesus yet was Peter—the stick-my-head-in-the-tomb-and-go-home guy.
In the middle of the disciples confabulation (yes, that's a word; look it up in dictionary.com), Jesus appears. Because, like I said, the Resurrection is about the truth of Jesus, not the disciples. Behind locked doors, Jesus appeared to them all. In the midst of their doubt and discussion, their jealousy and pettiness, Jesus appeared. How did they react?
They were terrified, thinking that they were seeing a ghost" (Luke 24:37)
But then, what did Jesus say in response to their terror?
But Jesus said, “Why are you so frightened? Why do you doubt? Look at my hands and my feet and see who I am! Touch me and find out for yourselves. (Luke 24:38-39)
Let me read that last line again: "Touch me and find out for yourselves." That is so important. Jesus knows that the disciples aren't going to care about what all the Resurrection means for them and the people of the world concerning the fear of death and the battle against evil. All that won't matter unless they first believe the Resurrection happened. That it was real. That it is the truth. You have to first believe it happened before you can believe in what it means.
It's that way with a number of historical facts. Some don't believe Hitler had so many people killed. It doesn't matter if you believe that, as if your belief, or lack of it, will change history—it's a historical fact. Some people don't believe Shakespeare wrote all those plays. It doesn't matter whether they believe it or not—it's a historical fact. Some people don't believe United States astronauts landed and walked on the moon. It doesn't matter if they believe that or not—it's a historical fact that it happened. What you believe may or may not have happened doesn't change a historical occurrence, just because you believe it's so. Belief isn't going to alter the facts. Beliefs can alter what the facts mean, but not the facts themselves.
That's what Jesus is about and trying to accomplish in the early days after the Resurrection—just getting the disciples to believe the truth of it. 1 Corinthians 15:4-7 says:
Christ died for our sins,
as the Scriptures say.
He was buried,
and three days later
he was raised to life,
as the Scriptures say.
Christ appeared to Peter,
then to the twelve.
After this, he appeared
to more than five hundred
other followers.
Most of them are still alive,
but some have died.
He also appeared to James,
and then to all
of the apostles.
John started out his first letter with these words:
The Word that gives life
was from the beginning,
and this is the one
our message is about.
Our ears have heard,
our own eyes have seen,
and our hands touched
this Word.
The one who gives life appeared! We saw it happen, and we are witnesses to what we have seen.
So many people actually saw the risen Jesus. Over 500. That was Jesus' intention—to get a large number of people to actually see him, hear him, and touch him. And then turn those people loose to go out into the world and tell the truth—Jesus was dead and is now alive. That's where we all have to start. Not, do you believe it. But do you accept Jesus' Resurrection as a historical truth?
That's why Easter isn't over, and will never be over. Each new generation (including the millennials—who may or may not exist) has to accept the fact and truth of the Resurrection. That is our task, as those who have accepted the truth.
And then we move on to tell what the Resurrection means. Which is another whole sermon (or 10) with a whole lot more words.
Monday, April 17, 2017
"A Curious Detail" (Easter Sunrise)
"A Curious Detail"
Easter Sunrise
John 20:1-18
Scripture Reading: John 20:1-18
Message: "One Curious Detail of the Easter Story"
What was going on inside the tomb, right before the stone was rolled back out of the way? What happened right before Jesus stumbled out of the tomb? Although, something tells me Jesus didn't stumble out of the tomb, shielding his eyes from the morning light after being closed off in the darkness. But we'll get to that in a minute. Right now I'm wondering what was going on just prior to moving the stone.
Jesus probably would have been naked when crucified. It was part of the humiliation the Romans heaped upon those who received this kind of capital punishment. Were the angels shopping for cloaks for Jesus to wear for his grand reentrance back into the world? "Should we get the white one or the one with pinstripes? Cotton, or cotton blend?" Jesus pacing back and forth inside the tomb, wondering if he could trust the angel's shopping skills. "I hope they didn't go to the Gap and get something too trendy," Jesus may have been thinking.
But I don't think that's what was going on either. Somehow they solved the no clothes issue. Something else was going on, and John gives us a glimpse of it in his version of that Resurrection morning.
Right in the middle of John's story of Easter morning John gives a small detail that is extremely intriguing. Let's go back and put his story time line together.
First, we see Mary coming to the tomb—watching the dust rise up from the way she is dragging her feet. She is more than a little despondent, her heart broken from the dying of Jesus. We hear the twilight sounds of the morning starting to rise with the sun. We sense the stillness—even the emptiness—of the air. We see her tears and feel the crushing weight of her even greater grief as she discovers in the dimness of the morning the stone rolled away. We hear her shrill cries as she sobs out her testimony to Simon Peter and John, after running back to them, telling them that robbers must have come and stolen Jesus' body.
Then comes the running of two men. We hear the panting. We feel the hot breath. We see the younger of the two outrun the older. Then, by the first rays of light, first, by John, and then by Peter, that the tomb is indeed empty. That's when we get the detail. It's through their eyes that we get to see inside the tomb. We get to hear about this one, obscure detail:
"…and the face-cloth, which had been on His head, not lying with the linen wrappings, but rolled up in a place by itself" (John 20:7).
It's a curious little detail to include, don't you think? John was there—the first inside the tomb. He saw the whole burial cave scene. The memory of that place was so ingrained into him that he wanted to record every last detail. The face cloth was one of those details. The way the other burial cloths are described, in the Greek, it's like Jesus' body just went up through them, as if he were a ghost. The cloths lay just as they would have if they fell through his body.
But not the face-cloth. It was rolled up and set in an entirely different place in the tomb. Why? I don't know. Neither does anyone else. So we get to imagine. Imagine Jesus, having just arisen. He stands up. The face-cloth is still stuck to his face. He gently takes if off. Holding it loosely between his fingers, he takes his time to view the place where he had lain dead. Because he had never seen it before. He was, of course, dead when they brought him there. The binding strips laying there in a helter skelter fashion.
While he stares, he consciously takes the face cloth, folds it in half, and rolls it up. What is he thinking? What is going through his mind? Was he thinking, There is where I lay. There is where I was dead. He gingerly touches the nail scars in his wrists. No pain. Totally healed. This is where I was wounded. But I feel nothing. I was dead. But now I am alive—in a different and new way.
In an unhurried way, Jesus takes it all in. As he stands there, the stone begins to move, effortlessly. It rolls up its little ramp and settles on it's positioning plateau.
Jesus looks out into the world from inside his tomb. He begins to walk out, but stops. He remembers he has the rolled up face-cloth in his hand. He smiles. He looks back at the heap of grave cloths. He places the rolled up face-cloth on a tiny shelf of rock, where a candle would have been placed, above the place where Jesus would have lain.
Again, he stands for a moment looking at that scene, that in a moment, he will turn his back on and never look at again. Why did he place the face-cloth there? Maybe it was a visual parable. Like when the Father God, at creation, changed all the chaos into order, Jesus put a little symbol of order over the chaos of his death bed. The world was at one time a spiral of disorder where up was down and left was right and life was death. Everything was flipped on its head, but when He stepped out of the tomb, with the placement of the rolled up face-cloth, He announced to our broken creation that He was setting everything back the way it was always supposed to be. Order above the chaos.
Out of disorder and into order. Out of death and into life. Out of brokenness and into wholeness. And maybe that reordering started with that simple act of taking what might have otherwise been a wrinkled, tattered mess, folding and rolling it up neatly, placing it in an intentional and specific spot.
Then, with a wry smile, He walked out into the light …
Easter Sunrise
John 20:1-18
Scripture Reading: John 20:1-18
Message: "One Curious Detail of the Easter Story"
What was going on inside the tomb, right before the stone was rolled back out of the way? What happened right before Jesus stumbled out of the tomb? Although, something tells me Jesus didn't stumble out of the tomb, shielding his eyes from the morning light after being closed off in the darkness. But we'll get to that in a minute. Right now I'm wondering what was going on just prior to moving the stone.
Jesus probably would have been naked when crucified. It was part of the humiliation the Romans heaped upon those who received this kind of capital punishment. Were the angels shopping for cloaks for Jesus to wear for his grand reentrance back into the world? "Should we get the white one or the one with pinstripes? Cotton, or cotton blend?" Jesus pacing back and forth inside the tomb, wondering if he could trust the angel's shopping skills. "I hope they didn't go to the Gap and get something too trendy," Jesus may have been thinking.
But I don't think that's what was going on either. Somehow they solved the no clothes issue. Something else was going on, and John gives us a glimpse of it in his version of that Resurrection morning.
Right in the middle of John's story of Easter morning John gives a small detail that is extremely intriguing. Let's go back and put his story time line together.
First, we see Mary coming to the tomb—watching the dust rise up from the way she is dragging her feet. She is more than a little despondent, her heart broken from the dying of Jesus. We hear the twilight sounds of the morning starting to rise with the sun. We sense the stillness—even the emptiness—of the air. We see her tears and feel the crushing weight of her even greater grief as she discovers in the dimness of the morning the stone rolled away. We hear her shrill cries as she sobs out her testimony to Simon Peter and John, after running back to them, telling them that robbers must have come and stolen Jesus' body.
Then comes the running of two men. We hear the panting. We feel the hot breath. We see the younger of the two outrun the older. Then, by the first rays of light, first, by John, and then by Peter, that the tomb is indeed empty. That's when we get the detail. It's through their eyes that we get to see inside the tomb. We get to hear about this one, obscure detail:
"…and the face-cloth, which had been on His head, not lying with the linen wrappings, but rolled up in a place by itself" (John 20:7).
It's a curious little detail to include, don't you think? John was there—the first inside the tomb. He saw the whole burial cave scene. The memory of that place was so ingrained into him that he wanted to record every last detail. The face cloth was one of those details. The way the other burial cloths are described, in the Greek, it's like Jesus' body just went up through them, as if he were a ghost. The cloths lay just as they would have if they fell through his body.
But not the face-cloth. It was rolled up and set in an entirely different place in the tomb. Why? I don't know. Neither does anyone else. So we get to imagine. Imagine Jesus, having just arisen. He stands up. The face-cloth is still stuck to his face. He gently takes if off. Holding it loosely between his fingers, he takes his time to view the place where he had lain dead. Because he had never seen it before. He was, of course, dead when they brought him there. The binding strips laying there in a helter skelter fashion.
While he stares, he consciously takes the face cloth, folds it in half, and rolls it up. What is he thinking? What is going through his mind? Was he thinking, There is where I lay. There is where I was dead. He gingerly touches the nail scars in his wrists. No pain. Totally healed. This is where I was wounded. But I feel nothing. I was dead. But now I am alive—in a different and new way.
In an unhurried way, Jesus takes it all in. As he stands there, the stone begins to move, effortlessly. It rolls up its little ramp and settles on it's positioning plateau.
Jesus looks out into the world from inside his tomb. He begins to walk out, but stops. He remembers he has the rolled up face-cloth in his hand. He smiles. He looks back at the heap of grave cloths. He places the rolled up face-cloth on a tiny shelf of rock, where a candle would have been placed, above the place where Jesus would have lain.
Again, he stands for a moment looking at that scene, that in a moment, he will turn his back on and never look at again. Why did he place the face-cloth there? Maybe it was a visual parable. Like when the Father God, at creation, changed all the chaos into order, Jesus put a little symbol of order over the chaos of his death bed. The world was at one time a spiral of disorder where up was down and left was right and life was death. Everything was flipped on its head, but when He stepped out of the tomb, with the placement of the rolled up face-cloth, He announced to our broken creation that He was setting everything back the way it was always supposed to be. Order above the chaos.
Out of disorder and into order. Out of death and into life. Out of brokenness and into wholeness. And maybe that reordering started with that simple act of taking what might have otherwise been a wrinkled, tattered mess, folding and rolling it up neatly, placing it in an intentional and specific spot.
Then, with a wry smile, He walked out into the light …
Resurrection Sunday Dialogues
"Resurrection Sunday Dialogues"
Scripture: John 14:6-9 (RSV)
Philip: You ask him.
Thomas: No, you ask him.
Philip: No, you!
Thomas: You!
Jesus: Ask who? And ask who, what?
Philip: (elbows Thomas)
Thomas: (elbows Philip back)
Jesus: (sighs) What do you want to ask me?
Thomas: We were just wondering if, you know, when, or in what way…
Philip: (breaking in) When are we going to get to see God?
Thomas: Right. That's what I was going to say before Philip, here, interrupted.
Jesus: (with a look of sadness and dumbfoundedness) You want to see God?
Philip: Yes. I mean, we've seen you and all. And you're phenomenal! Don't get me wrong.
Thomas: Yes! Amazing! All the stuff you do, healing people, changing water into wine…
Philip: (interrupting) That one was great! And the wine—superb! Not too dry, not too sweet. I didn't even get a headache after a couple of cups.
Thomas: You had six cups…
Philip: Not important… (pause) Anyway, Jesus, we were thinking it would be amazing…
Thomas: AMAZING!
Philip:…if you would, somehow, let us see God. That's all we need. Then we will be convinced enough.
Jesus: Convinced enough for what?
Philip: To go tell others we have seen God!
Thomas: Yeah, we just want to see God!
Philip: (nodding affirmatively) Just see God; that's all.
Jesus: That's all—you just want to see God?
Thomas and Philip: (shake their heads affirmatively)
Jesus: Done!
Thomas: (with a fist pump) Yes! We get to see God!
Jesus: You already have.
Thomas: (looking around) What? Where? Here?
Jesus: Right here.
Philip: Where, right here?
Jesus: (pointing to himself) Here.
Philip: You…?
Jesus: Me.
Thomas: You're God!?
Jesus: Yes.
(Pause)
Thomas and Philip: (look at each other)
Thomas: Whoa, I did not see that one coming.
Philip: Neither did I.
Song: "Behold the King" (with "Open the Eyes of My Heart")
Second Dialogue: Philip and Thomas
Scripture: 1 Corinthians 11:23-26
(Use wooden stool and little wooden chair.)
Philip: (sitting in little chair) Why do I have to be the one who sits in the little chair at the Passover meals?
Thomas: Because you're the youngest. (pats Philip on the head)
Philip: It's humiliating! (folds his arms across his chest)
Thomas: You do get to ask the questions during the Passover meal.
Philip: (mockingly) Oh, boy; what fun. (pause) And why are we all sitting on the same side of the table?
Thomas: Wait a minute—what's he saying?
Philip: I don't know; I can hardly see above the edge of the stupid tabletop.
Thomas: (whispering) Did you just hear what he said?
Philip: (whispering) Something about the bread being his body.
(whispering the rest of the way through)
Thomas: I wonder what that means.
Philip: He just said his body will be broken. Why would he say such a thing?
Thomas: And who is going to do that to him?
Philip: I dunno.
Thomas: He's had some close scrapes—but he always got through them.
Philip: Yeah, remember that time they wanted to throw him off a cliff?
Thomas: (a little too loudly) That was scary!
Philip: So what does he mean his body is going to be broken? Is he going to die?
Thomas: For some reason, I never thought that could happen. I mean, he told us that time he is God. Can God die? What will happen if he's dead? If he's killed?
Philip: (shrugging his shoulders) I don't know. (pause) Let's not think about that. What's he doing now?
Thomas: Saying something about the wine is like his blood.
Philip: What!? Now what does THAT mean!? (pointing) And where is Judas going?
Song: "You Are The Bread"
Communion
Third Dialogue: Philip and Thomas
Scripture: John 20:24-29
(sitting with backs to Communion Table or on top step)
Thomas: I have no idea why I'm here.
Philip: Uh, because you're a disciple.
Thomas: I'm not sure I want to do that anymore. I mean, Jesus is dead. Who are we even following? (points at the congregation) Look at those saps over there. It's time for them to put on their big girl panties and face the facts. He's gone, Philip. Dead. And. Gone.
Philip: But he's alive!
Thomas: Yeah, yeah. (with an eye roll) The women said so. Right.
Philip: They said they saw him. That he talked to them.
Thomas: (patting Philip on the back) Philip, Philip, Philip. Ever read any psychology? Mass hysteria? That kind of stuff?
Philip: (shakes his head no)
Thomas: It's all in their heads. You know how women are. See what they want to see. Hear what they want to hear. Always overly emotional (fake crying). Always making something so much more than it really is. (pause) He even duped us, Philip, telling us he was God. How does God die, for God's sake?
(Jesus walks in and stands in front of them. Thomas sees him and jumps straight up to his feet. Philip gets up more slowly, looking back and forth between Jesus and Thomas)
Thomas: What the…
Jesus: Hello, Thomas.
Thomas: Jesus? (turning to Philip) Pinch me; I might be hallucinating.
Philip: (pinches Thomas)
Thomas: Yeowwww! Dang, I'm not hallucinating. So you see Jesus standing there, too?
Philip: Yup.
Thomas: So he's really alive?
Philip: Yup.
Jesus: If you're still not sure, come here; touch my wounds. Be absolutely sure. It's the truth! I'm the truth! I'm alive, and you of all people need to be sure of that truth.
Thomas: (falls at Jesus' feet, crying emotionally) Oh my God, I've been such a fool! I am so so sorry, Lord. I do believe, and I promise I will do whatever you say!
Jesus: (extends a hand; brings crying Thomas to his feet)
Song: "See What A Morning"
Scripture: John 14:6-9 (RSV)
Philip: You ask him.
Thomas: No, you ask him.
Philip: No, you!
Thomas: You!
Jesus: Ask who? And ask who, what?
Philip: (elbows Thomas)
Thomas: (elbows Philip back)
Jesus: (sighs) What do you want to ask me?
Thomas: We were just wondering if, you know, when, or in what way…
Philip: (breaking in) When are we going to get to see God?
Thomas: Right. That's what I was going to say before Philip, here, interrupted.
Jesus: (with a look of sadness and dumbfoundedness) You want to see God?
Philip: Yes. I mean, we've seen you and all. And you're phenomenal! Don't get me wrong.
Thomas: Yes! Amazing! All the stuff you do, healing people, changing water into wine…
Philip: (interrupting) That one was great! And the wine—superb! Not too dry, not too sweet. I didn't even get a headache after a couple of cups.
Thomas: You had six cups…
Philip: Not important… (pause) Anyway, Jesus, we were thinking it would be amazing…
Thomas: AMAZING!
Philip:…if you would, somehow, let us see God. That's all we need. Then we will be convinced enough.
Jesus: Convinced enough for what?
Philip: To go tell others we have seen God!
Thomas: Yeah, we just want to see God!
Philip: (nodding affirmatively) Just see God; that's all.
Jesus: That's all—you just want to see God?
Thomas and Philip: (shake their heads affirmatively)
Jesus: Done!
Thomas: (with a fist pump) Yes! We get to see God!
Jesus: You already have.
Thomas: (looking around) What? Where? Here?
Jesus: Right here.
Philip: Where, right here?
Jesus: (pointing to himself) Here.
Philip: You…?
Jesus: Me.
Thomas: You're God!?
Jesus: Yes.
(Pause)
Thomas and Philip: (look at each other)
Thomas: Whoa, I did not see that one coming.
Philip: Neither did I.
Song: "Behold the King" (with "Open the Eyes of My Heart")
Second Dialogue: Philip and Thomas
Scripture: 1 Corinthians 11:23-26
(Use wooden stool and little wooden chair.)
Philip: (sitting in little chair) Why do I have to be the one who sits in the little chair at the Passover meals?
Thomas: Because you're the youngest. (pats Philip on the head)
Philip: It's humiliating! (folds his arms across his chest)
Thomas: You do get to ask the questions during the Passover meal.
Philip: (mockingly) Oh, boy; what fun. (pause) And why are we all sitting on the same side of the table?
Thomas: Wait a minute—what's he saying?
Philip: I don't know; I can hardly see above the edge of the stupid tabletop.
Thomas: (whispering) Did you just hear what he said?
Philip: (whispering) Something about the bread being his body.
(whispering the rest of the way through)
Thomas: I wonder what that means.
Philip: He just said his body will be broken. Why would he say such a thing?
Thomas: And who is going to do that to him?
Philip: I dunno.
Thomas: He's had some close scrapes—but he always got through them.
Philip: Yeah, remember that time they wanted to throw him off a cliff?
Thomas: (a little too loudly) That was scary!
Philip: So what does he mean his body is going to be broken? Is he going to die?
Thomas: For some reason, I never thought that could happen. I mean, he told us that time he is God. Can God die? What will happen if he's dead? If he's killed?
Philip: (shrugging his shoulders) I don't know. (pause) Let's not think about that. What's he doing now?
Thomas: Saying something about the wine is like his blood.
Philip: What!? Now what does THAT mean!? (pointing) And where is Judas going?
Song: "You Are The Bread"
Communion
Third Dialogue: Philip and Thomas
Scripture: John 20:24-29
(sitting with backs to Communion Table or on top step)
Thomas: I have no idea why I'm here.
Philip: Uh, because you're a disciple.
Thomas: I'm not sure I want to do that anymore. I mean, Jesus is dead. Who are we even following? (points at the congregation) Look at those saps over there. It's time for them to put on their big girl panties and face the facts. He's gone, Philip. Dead. And. Gone.
Philip: But he's alive!
Thomas: Yeah, yeah. (with an eye roll) The women said so. Right.
Philip: They said they saw him. That he talked to them.
Thomas: (patting Philip on the back) Philip, Philip, Philip. Ever read any psychology? Mass hysteria? That kind of stuff?
Philip: (shakes his head no)
Thomas: It's all in their heads. You know how women are. See what they want to see. Hear what they want to hear. Always overly emotional (fake crying). Always making something so much more than it really is. (pause) He even duped us, Philip, telling us he was God. How does God die, for God's sake?
(Jesus walks in and stands in front of them. Thomas sees him and jumps straight up to his feet. Philip gets up more slowly, looking back and forth between Jesus and Thomas)
Thomas: What the…
Jesus: Hello, Thomas.
Thomas: Jesus? (turning to Philip) Pinch me; I might be hallucinating.
Philip: (pinches Thomas)
Thomas: Yeowwww! Dang, I'm not hallucinating. So you see Jesus standing there, too?
Philip: Yup.
Thomas: So he's really alive?
Philip: Yup.
Jesus: If you're still not sure, come here; touch my wounds. Be absolutely sure. It's the truth! I'm the truth! I'm alive, and you of all people need to be sure of that truth.
Thomas: (falls at Jesus' feet, crying emotionally) Oh my God, I've been such a fool! I am so so sorry, Lord. I do believe, and I promise I will do whatever you say!
Jesus: (extends a hand; brings crying Thomas to his feet)
Song: "See What A Morning"
Sunday, April 9, 2017
This Silly Religion
"This Silly Religion"
Psalm 31:6-16
I've been having you look at several Psalms during the season of Lent. I wanted us to look at the Psalms because of the important place they have in the life of the church, and the spiritual development of believers.
The Psalms has been called the church's prayer book. When Christians aren't sure how to pray, or what to pray, they can turn to the book of Psalms, and find there a guide—the words to say when words aren't there. And I have had you use them, this Lenten season, as kick-starters for your writing in your journals.
One of the things you need to know is that Jesus used the Psalms in his own praying. There seemed to be times when even Jesus was at a loss of words, and not knowing what to pray, what words to use to express his emotions, he would turn to the Psalms.
This Psalm in particular was important to Jesus and it formed the basis of his prayers at two awful points in his life: praying in the Garden of Gethsemane and while he was dying on the Cross. This Psalm, these verses, formed the core of his prayers at those two times in his life.
At verse 6, a shift happens in this psalm. The shift happens because the psalmist—King David, here—has come to a fork in the path of his spiritual life. He has to choose between two options. It's either one or the other. One option is following what he calls "silly religion." The other fork in the road means trusting God whole-heartedly. Silly religion or whole-hearted trust in God. Silly religion vs. being "all in."
In one of our Sunday School class sessions we were talking about this kind of devotion to God. Gordon Stull used the image that Don Peters would be familiar with on his poker night. In poker, one of the choices you have, when it's your turn, is to raise all the other bids. Make others decide if they want to risk more money. One choice you have, at that juncture in the game is to go, what's called, "all in." That is you look at the stacks of chips before you, and either through an elaborate bluff or a confidence in the strength of your hand of cards, you push all your chips into the pot. You go all in. You have put yourself in the position of losing everything. And at the same time you have put yourself in the position of gaining everything.
Could you do that with your faith in Christ? That's what Gordon was challenging our Sunday School class with in using his image of "all in." But that's what this Psalm 31, starting at verse 6 is challenging us with also. Either following silly religion, or going all in with God. Not just going a few chips in with God, but putting everything on the line of giving yourself over to God.
That's why Jesus liked this Psalm, and why he prayed this Psalm often, but at especially tough times in his life. This Psalm reminded Jesus of who he was, and what he was doing with his life, and having to make this choice of going all in with God over and over and over again.
When Jesus was in the Garden of Gethsemane, he had to decide anew if he was going all in with God, again.
Then he went on a little farther, threw himself on the ground, and prayed that if it were possible this hour might pass him by. "Abba, Father," he prayed, "all things are possible to you; take this cup from me. Yet not my will, but yours." (Mark 14:35-36, REB)
This is the last time that Jesus comes to this fork in the road. Will he be all in this one final time, because there will be no turning back. So he prays through this section of Psalm 31.
One of the consequences of going all in with God is that it doesn't make you many friends. Life doesn't get easier. Choices become more problematic. That's what the psalmist discovered. At verse 8, the psalm recognizes that going the full distance with God brings you face-to-face with "tormentors." At verse 11 they are called "enemies." But the hardest twist comes also in verse 11. These tormentors and enemies aren't just trouble-makers, people who enjoy making life difficult for others all the time. No. The hardest realization is that those who were making life difficult for the psalmist, once he went all in with God were "neighbors" and "friends."
These neighbors and friends turned against the psalmist not because he turned against them, but because the psalmist turned towards God in an all-in way. They changed in their actions toward the psalmist because he changed. He made that one major shift, he chose that one fork in the road—trusting God; throwing himself on God—and that change flipped the fundamental nature of his friendships and neighborly relationships.
For Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, he prayed to be spared. One of the gospel writers described Jesus prayer as sweat like drops of blood running down his face. He is in utter anguish, knowing what's coming. He has disciples there with him in the Garden—just a few steps away. But they are asleep when he seeks them out for solace. His "friends" have let him down.
You have to realize that is going to happen. You are warned, by this psalm. You go all in with God and others are going to treat you differently. And not in a better way.
How did his neighbors and friends change their behavior toward the psalmist? How does the psalmist describe his treatment from others in the Psalm?
—Friends and neighbors treated the psalmist as if he were a monster. They approached him with great fear and terror.
—Friends and neighbors ridiculed the psalmist, attempting to heap shame upon him, rebuking him for his choice for God.
—Friends and neighbors avoided the psalmist, to the point of crossing the street when they saw him coming.
—Friends and neighbors tried to totally forget him, as if he were dead and gone, to be spoken of no more.
—Friends and neighbors tossed the psalmist aside as if he were useless.
—Friends and neighbors branded the psalmist with labels of contempt—labels that they knew others would believe, even though they were hurtful.
—Friends and neighbors plotted against the psalmist, in an attempt to intentionally ruin him for good.
Jesus prayed through this Psalm because it was his life. It was his life, not because Jesus was a total jerk. Neither was the psalmist who wrote it. They were treated like this simply because they went all in, in their trust of God, rather than compromise and go the easy way of "silly religion."
But being treated like this is just the half of it for the psalmist. It's not only how friends and neighbors are treating him, but also how that treatment makes him feel. Notice how the psalmist describes his feelings in response to being treated so badly. The psalmist describes those feelings this way:
—as if it's hard to breathe or catch his breath
—he cried
—he felt hollow inside
—as if the only sounds he could make were groans and sighs
—like he was worn out from dealing with so much negative and hurtful behavior
—and as if his bones, which should give him stature and the ability to stand, were nothing but powder.
Again, these feelings aren't because the psalmist is being victimized for victim's sake. It's because he refused to just go along with silly religion. It was because he had thrown himself upon God. It was because he placed his days—his seasons of life—in God's hands.
The question, then, is why is forgoing religious mediocrity and silliness in favor of choosing being all in with God so threatening to others—especially others who know you, neighbors and friends? What is it about that shift of allegiance that makes others so darn uncomfortable?
As the psalmist discovered, almost from the moment he took his path of total trust in God, he experienced the reaction from friends and neighbors. In a word, sabotage. The end game for these friends and neighbors is to get the psalmist to come back to silly religion rather than total relationship with God. They were trying to pressure the psalmist to go back to his old ways so everyone could be comfortable again with the way things were.
Just come back to "this silly religion" and we will like you again.
Just come back to "this silly religion" and we will accept you.
Give up being this "holy Joe", this holier-than-thou, Jesus freak.
Quit trying to take God so seriously.
Just follow the rules of what you call our "silly religion".
Everything will be fine.
If this is the way the psalmist was treated, if this is the way Jesus was treated, should we who make this choice of commitment expect any different? Jesus highlighted this point, that I think was developed out of his continual praying through this psalm. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said:
“Not only that—count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—give a cheer, even!—for though they don’t like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble. (Matthew 5:11-12)
People want us Christians to follow silly religion. That is, make what we believe about following rules rather than developing a dynamic relationship with God. People want us to follow silly religion, which means blending cultural practices with Christian teaching so that the end product is neither. People want us to follow silly religion, which means compromising our relationship with God to the point where God has nothing to do with who we are and how we act. People want us follow silly religion which means being cool rather than being committed. People want us to follow silly religion which means paying attention to other people's words rather than God's Word. People want us to follow silly religion which means conforming to their ways and wishes, rather than conforming to Christ. People want us to follow silly religion which means being just part of the way in, rather than all in.
When Jesus rode into Jerusalem on what has become Palm Sunday, the people were ecstatic. They danced before Jesus. They threw palm branches in the roadway as if he were a conquering king. The Pharisees told Jesus to tell all those people to control themselves. In other words, be like people who follow silly religion and act subdued, rather than be all in and celebrate Jesus. Jesus mocked the Pharisees by saying that even if the people stopped, the inanimate stones would be all in.
Silly religion hailed Jesus for a few hours. Then silly religion arrested him, conjured up a silly trial, brutally abused him, and finally crucified him. Friends and neighbors turned against him, choosing the fork in the road that held to silly religion, rather than choosing the fork that led to total commitment to Christ.
We will come to that fork in the road several times during our lives, and we must choose. Maybe now is one of those times.
Psalm 31:6-16
I've been having you look at several Psalms during the season of Lent. I wanted us to look at the Psalms because of the important place they have in the life of the church, and the spiritual development of believers.
The Psalms has been called the church's prayer book. When Christians aren't sure how to pray, or what to pray, they can turn to the book of Psalms, and find there a guide—the words to say when words aren't there. And I have had you use them, this Lenten season, as kick-starters for your writing in your journals.
One of the things you need to know is that Jesus used the Psalms in his own praying. There seemed to be times when even Jesus was at a loss of words, and not knowing what to pray, what words to use to express his emotions, he would turn to the Psalms.
This Psalm in particular was important to Jesus and it formed the basis of his prayers at two awful points in his life: praying in the Garden of Gethsemane and while he was dying on the Cross. This Psalm, these verses, formed the core of his prayers at those two times in his life.
At verse 6, a shift happens in this psalm. The shift happens because the psalmist—King David, here—has come to a fork in the path of his spiritual life. He has to choose between two options. It's either one or the other. One option is following what he calls "silly religion." The other fork in the road means trusting God whole-heartedly. Silly religion or whole-hearted trust in God. Silly religion vs. being "all in."
In one of our Sunday School class sessions we were talking about this kind of devotion to God. Gordon Stull used the image that Don Peters would be familiar with on his poker night. In poker, one of the choices you have, when it's your turn, is to raise all the other bids. Make others decide if they want to risk more money. One choice you have, at that juncture in the game is to go, what's called, "all in." That is you look at the stacks of chips before you, and either through an elaborate bluff or a confidence in the strength of your hand of cards, you push all your chips into the pot. You go all in. You have put yourself in the position of losing everything. And at the same time you have put yourself in the position of gaining everything.
Could you do that with your faith in Christ? That's what Gordon was challenging our Sunday School class with in using his image of "all in." But that's what this Psalm 31, starting at verse 6 is challenging us with also. Either following silly religion, or going all in with God. Not just going a few chips in with God, but putting everything on the line of giving yourself over to God.
That's why Jesus liked this Psalm, and why he prayed this Psalm often, but at especially tough times in his life. This Psalm reminded Jesus of who he was, and what he was doing with his life, and having to make this choice of going all in with God over and over and over again.
When Jesus was in the Garden of Gethsemane, he had to decide anew if he was going all in with God, again.
Then he went on a little farther, threw himself on the ground, and prayed that if it were possible this hour might pass him by. "Abba, Father," he prayed, "all things are possible to you; take this cup from me. Yet not my will, but yours." (Mark 14:35-36, REB)
This is the last time that Jesus comes to this fork in the road. Will he be all in this one final time, because there will be no turning back. So he prays through this section of Psalm 31.
One of the consequences of going all in with God is that it doesn't make you many friends. Life doesn't get easier. Choices become more problematic. That's what the psalmist discovered. At verse 8, the psalm recognizes that going the full distance with God brings you face-to-face with "tormentors." At verse 11 they are called "enemies." But the hardest twist comes also in verse 11. These tormentors and enemies aren't just trouble-makers, people who enjoy making life difficult for others all the time. No. The hardest realization is that those who were making life difficult for the psalmist, once he went all in with God were "neighbors" and "friends."
These neighbors and friends turned against the psalmist not because he turned against them, but because the psalmist turned towards God in an all-in way. They changed in their actions toward the psalmist because he changed. He made that one major shift, he chose that one fork in the road—trusting God; throwing himself on God—and that change flipped the fundamental nature of his friendships and neighborly relationships.
For Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, he prayed to be spared. One of the gospel writers described Jesus prayer as sweat like drops of blood running down his face. He is in utter anguish, knowing what's coming. He has disciples there with him in the Garden—just a few steps away. But they are asleep when he seeks them out for solace. His "friends" have let him down.
You have to realize that is going to happen. You are warned, by this psalm. You go all in with God and others are going to treat you differently. And not in a better way.
How did his neighbors and friends change their behavior toward the psalmist? How does the psalmist describe his treatment from others in the Psalm?
—Friends and neighbors treated the psalmist as if he were a monster. They approached him with great fear and terror.
—Friends and neighbors ridiculed the psalmist, attempting to heap shame upon him, rebuking him for his choice for God.
—Friends and neighbors avoided the psalmist, to the point of crossing the street when they saw him coming.
—Friends and neighbors tried to totally forget him, as if he were dead and gone, to be spoken of no more.
—Friends and neighbors tossed the psalmist aside as if he were useless.
—Friends and neighbors branded the psalmist with labels of contempt—labels that they knew others would believe, even though they were hurtful.
—Friends and neighbors plotted against the psalmist, in an attempt to intentionally ruin him for good.
Jesus prayed through this Psalm because it was his life. It was his life, not because Jesus was a total jerk. Neither was the psalmist who wrote it. They were treated like this simply because they went all in, in their trust of God, rather than compromise and go the easy way of "silly religion."
But being treated like this is just the half of it for the psalmist. It's not only how friends and neighbors are treating him, but also how that treatment makes him feel. Notice how the psalmist describes his feelings in response to being treated so badly. The psalmist describes those feelings this way:
—as if it's hard to breathe or catch his breath
—he cried
—he felt hollow inside
—as if the only sounds he could make were groans and sighs
—like he was worn out from dealing with so much negative and hurtful behavior
—and as if his bones, which should give him stature and the ability to stand, were nothing but powder.
Again, these feelings aren't because the psalmist is being victimized for victim's sake. It's because he refused to just go along with silly religion. It was because he had thrown himself upon God. It was because he placed his days—his seasons of life—in God's hands.
The question, then, is why is forgoing religious mediocrity and silliness in favor of choosing being all in with God so threatening to others—especially others who know you, neighbors and friends? What is it about that shift of allegiance that makes others so darn uncomfortable?
As the psalmist discovered, almost from the moment he took his path of total trust in God, he experienced the reaction from friends and neighbors. In a word, sabotage. The end game for these friends and neighbors is to get the psalmist to come back to silly religion rather than total relationship with God. They were trying to pressure the psalmist to go back to his old ways so everyone could be comfortable again with the way things were.
Just come back to "this silly religion" and we will like you again.
Just come back to "this silly religion" and we will accept you.
Give up being this "holy Joe", this holier-than-thou, Jesus freak.
Quit trying to take God so seriously.
Just follow the rules of what you call our "silly religion".
Everything will be fine.
If this is the way the psalmist was treated, if this is the way Jesus was treated, should we who make this choice of commitment expect any different? Jesus highlighted this point, that I think was developed out of his continual praying through this psalm. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said:
“Not only that—count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—give a cheer, even!—for though they don’t like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble. (Matthew 5:11-12)
People want us Christians to follow silly religion. That is, make what we believe about following rules rather than developing a dynamic relationship with God. People want us to follow silly religion, which means blending cultural practices with Christian teaching so that the end product is neither. People want us to follow silly religion, which means compromising our relationship with God to the point where God has nothing to do with who we are and how we act. People want us follow silly religion which means being cool rather than being committed. People want us to follow silly religion which means paying attention to other people's words rather than God's Word. People want us to follow silly religion which means conforming to their ways and wishes, rather than conforming to Christ. People want us to follow silly religion which means being just part of the way in, rather than all in.
When Jesus rode into Jerusalem on what has become Palm Sunday, the people were ecstatic. They danced before Jesus. They threw palm branches in the roadway as if he were a conquering king. The Pharisees told Jesus to tell all those people to control themselves. In other words, be like people who follow silly religion and act subdued, rather than be all in and celebrate Jesus. Jesus mocked the Pharisees by saying that even if the people stopped, the inanimate stones would be all in.
Silly religion hailed Jesus for a few hours. Then silly religion arrested him, conjured up a silly trial, brutally abused him, and finally crucified him. Friends and neighbors turned against him, choosing the fork in the road that held to silly religion, rather than choosing the fork that led to total commitment to Christ.
We will come to that fork in the road several times during our lives, and we must choose. Maybe now is one of those times.
Sunday, April 2, 2017
My Hopes and Yearnings
"My Hopes And Yearnings"
Psalm 130
I want you to think a minute with me about what your deepest yearnings are. If I were to ask you that question, what would your answer be? Some may want to work less and get paid more. Or some may want to be independently wealthy. Or along those lines, win the lottery. Or be healthy. Most everyone is dealing with some body issue. It would be nice to be free of all that and just be healthy.
Maybe some of your deepest yearnings are about a wish to change your story. To somehow relive your history so that your past wouldn't be your past. That you would be free of certain memories of a cruel time when you experienced the gross unfairness of life.
I'm going to be bold here and say that however noble or self-centered those yearnings are, they aren't your deepest yearnings. They aren't your dearest and most heartfelt longings.
I make that statement because I don't think you really know what your deepest yearnings are. You aren't in touch with them, because they go deeper than you have ever dared probe before.
Social psychologists have come up with stage theories of human development. That is, we as human beings develop along several stages, from birth to death. Erik Erikson's stage theory is one of the more popular. At each of those stages, Erickson says there is yearning that must be dealt with or we don't go on to the next stage well. Let me zip through these stages quickly, just so you have a bit of an understanding of what I'm talking about.
The first stage is Trust vs. Mistrust. Our deepest yearning at this stage—birth to 18 months—is having the assurance that the world is a safe place. Or is the world full of unpredictable events and accidents waiting to happen? If the care the infant receives is consistent, predictable and reliable, they will develop a sense of trust which will carry with them to other relationships, and they will be able to feel secure even when threatened. That's our first yearning—to know we can trust the world and people around us.
The second stage of human development is called Autonomy vs. Shame and Doubt. Between the ages of 18 months and three, children begin to assert their independence. If children in this stage are encouraged and supported in their increased independence, they become more confident and secure in their own ability to survive in the world.
If children are criticized, overly controlled, or not given the opportunity to assert themselves, they begin to feel inadequate in their ability to survive, and may then become overly dependent upon others, lack self-esteem, and feel a sense of shame or doubt in their abilities. So at this stage, our deepest yearning is for self-confidence.
The third stage is Initiative vs. Guilt. Around age three and continuing to age five, children assert themselves more frequently. Children develop a sense of initiative and feel secure in their ability to lead others and make decisions.
Conversely, if this tendency is squelched, either through criticism or control, children develop a sense of guilt. They may feel like a nuisance to others and will, therefore, remain followers, lacking in self-initiative. The deep yearning at this stage is the beginning of feeling a sense of leadership and purpose.
The fourth stage is called Industry (competence) vs. Inferiority. This stage occurs during childhood between the ages of five and twelve. If children are encouraged and reinforced for their initiative, they begin to feel industrious and feel confident in their ability to achieve goals. If this initiative is not encouraged, if it is restricted by parents or teacher, then the child begins to feel inferior, doubting his own abilities and therefore may not reach his or her potential. Our deep yearning at this stage is a positive answer to the question, "Am I a person of competence?"
The fifth stage is Identity vs. Role Confusion. It occurs during adolescence, from about 12-18 years. During this stage, adolescents search for a sense of self and personal identity, through an intense exploration of personal values, beliefs and goals. Two identities are involved: the sexual identity, and the values/beliefs identity. These are huge, and when teenagers feel pressured by others into a certain identity, it can result in rebellion in the form of establishing a negative identity within their sexuality and their values.
There's a really good book that came out about 25 years ago titled, Leaving Home. (I'm sorry I couldn't find it on the internet, so if you were interested, you could check it out. It may be out of print. I can do some more digging, if you're interested.) The author's premise is teenagers whole yearning at this stage is leaving home. They don't want to do it in one fell swoop, but in pieces. Everything they are about is defining themselves apart from the growing up family, and the only way they think they can do that is by getting out of their family. Thus, parents and teenagers enter into this weird dance of moving away from each other, then drawing close; moving away and drawing close.
The sixth stage is called Intimacy vs. Isolation. Occurring in young adulthood (ages 18 to 40 yrs), we begin to share ourselves more intimately with others. We explore relationships leading toward longer-term commitments with someone other than a family member. This is the stage the so-called Millennials (even though there may be no such things as millennials) would be in right now.
The main difference between how this stage worked when Erickson developed his stage theory and now, is called the internet. Previous to the internet, people going through this stage did it face-to-face. Now they are doing it via Facebook, Instagram and other social media. The main yearning is still the same—developing deep relationship—but it's much different trying to accomplish that over the cyber net.
The second to last stage is Generativity vs. Stagnation. This stage is when we are 40 to 65 years old. During this stage we are trying to make an impact on our world, rather than the world making an impact on us. We have developed our "vivid vision" for ourselves and we are trying to live into that vision. We attempt to impact society through raising our children, being productive at work, and becoming involved in community activities and organizations. By failing to achieve these objectives, by failing our Vivid Vision, we become stagnant and feel unproductive. So our main yearning in this stage is for impact.
Lastly, stage eight, is called Ego Integrity vs. Despair. That sounds awesome, doesn't it? As we grow older (65+ yrs) and become senior citizens, we tend to slow down our productivity and explore life as a retired person. It is during this time that we contemplate our accomplishments and can develop integrity if we see ourselves as leading a successful life. In doing so, we are attempting to answer at least two questions at once. One is, "Is what society is telling me, that if I haven't reached my Vivid Vision yet, I never will—is that evaluation correct? (I'd say it's a lie. Don't believe it.) The other question has to do with, "Have I lived a life I am proud of?"
Depending on how we answer those questions, if we see our lives as unproductive, feel guilt about our past, or feel that we did not accomplish our life goals, we become dissatisfied with life and develop despair, often leading to depression and hopelessness. At this stage our deepest yearning has to do with wondering if we mattered.
As you can see by this stage theory of human development, our deepest yearnings change with whatever stage we are in. None of these deep yearnings have to do with money, or independent wealth, or anything self-centered. They all have to do with a person's place and role within other human relationships and our world. As you are going through these stages and if you are trying to come out on the other side as a lone wolf, you are not succeeding at meeting our deepest yearnings for great relationships.
What I like about Psalm 130 is that it highlights some of our deepest yearning within our deepest yearnings. Let's say that Erik Erickson is right in his observations about the stages we go through. They are built upon very deep psycho social yearnings. But as we go through each of those stages there are deeper needs we have, that Psalm 130 points to.
The first is in the first verse—I know this must be a deep, deep part of our yearnings, because the psalmist uses this phrase in a lot of psalms. It reads:
From the depths of my despair I call to you, Lord.
Hear my cry, O Lord;
listen to my call for help!
Hear me when I'm crying, O Lord. Or, literally, "Hear my tears, O Lord." What is the sound of tears flowing down from our eyes, cascading down our faces? What is the sound of that salty water pooling in our eyes? What is the sound of tears making their streaks and trails upon our cheeks? What is that sound? Whatever that sound is, God hears it.
In all of our stages of life there is pain and struggle and failure. There are tears. But it used to be we shared those tears, we privileged others, with our tears. Crying was a communal thing—people cried with their families, with their friends, with community. Crying wasn't considered a sign of weakness or shame by women or by men.
Now when I ask people about their crying, I find it has become an entirely private matter. Tears are shed in the shower, or in the shop, or on the tractor. It's a deeply human emoting that is hidden away in the closet. You don't want anyone to see you or hear you. But yet, but yet, you deeply wish someone heard, someone was paying attention. You deeply yearn for someone to hold you while you cried. "Hear my cry, O Lord. Don't leave me alone in my tears…"
Isn't that a deep, deep secret yearning of us all? Even though most of you probably cry alone, is not your deep, deep hope and yearning that through all your stages and ways of life, your tears will not go unheard or unnoticed?
The other deep, deep yearning Psalm 130 brings out has to do with forgiveness.
If you kept a record of our sins,
who could escape being condemned?
But you forgive us,
so that we should stand in awe of you.
The assumption and acknowledgement of that statement is that we mess up, and we mess up a lot. The other truth of this statement is that we can't hide our messes from God.
Notice the "If" at the start of the statement. It's in almost every translation. The inference is that God could keep a record of our screw ups (plural) but chooses not to. Instead of keeping a list, God simply forgives. Since there is no list, that means God also forgets our mess ups and screw ups.
Who could stand? Who could escape? Who would last long? (All depending on what version you are using.) The assumption is that we would all be doomed! We would be doomed because the other assumption behind the "God list" is that God sees all. Nothing we do, say, think escapes God's ever watching eyes. And, another assumption behind the "God list" is that we would each be judged for what's on our list; and that judgement wouldn't go well for us.
The "If" is countered, thank God, with the "But" of verse four. "But, there is forgiveness with you…" God evidently doesn't want to be known as the list-making God.
He's making a list,
He's checking it twice,
He's gonna find out who's naughty or nice
(God Almighty's) coming to town.
God could be a list-making God, But God doesn't want to. God wants us to be attracted by forgiveness, not be afraid of God's "list."
Think about the stages of development you've already gone through. All the times you've screwed up. All the times you've made awful choices that led not to growth and spiritual maturity, but to more bad choices, and more messes. All the times we sinned.
Isn't what God is promising in Psalm 130 what we hope and yearn for? Forgiveness. Understanding. Someone who sees the big picture about us, which is the prerequisite for true and full forgiveness. To know that God is not about finding fault, but finding a way into forgiveness for us.
These are our deepest hopes and yearnings in life—having someone who hears our tears; and having someone who knows us and forgives us anyway. These yearnings have everything to do with God, and our acknowledgement of God in the deepest parts of our lives. May you all find what you are most deeply yearning for.
Psalm 130
I want you to think a minute with me about what your deepest yearnings are. If I were to ask you that question, what would your answer be? Some may want to work less and get paid more. Or some may want to be independently wealthy. Or along those lines, win the lottery. Or be healthy. Most everyone is dealing with some body issue. It would be nice to be free of all that and just be healthy.
Maybe some of your deepest yearnings are about a wish to change your story. To somehow relive your history so that your past wouldn't be your past. That you would be free of certain memories of a cruel time when you experienced the gross unfairness of life.
I'm going to be bold here and say that however noble or self-centered those yearnings are, they aren't your deepest yearnings. They aren't your dearest and most heartfelt longings.
I make that statement because I don't think you really know what your deepest yearnings are. You aren't in touch with them, because they go deeper than you have ever dared probe before.
Social psychologists have come up with stage theories of human development. That is, we as human beings develop along several stages, from birth to death. Erik Erikson's stage theory is one of the more popular. At each of those stages, Erickson says there is yearning that must be dealt with or we don't go on to the next stage well. Let me zip through these stages quickly, just so you have a bit of an understanding of what I'm talking about.
The first stage is Trust vs. Mistrust. Our deepest yearning at this stage—birth to 18 months—is having the assurance that the world is a safe place. Or is the world full of unpredictable events and accidents waiting to happen? If the care the infant receives is consistent, predictable and reliable, they will develop a sense of trust which will carry with them to other relationships, and they will be able to feel secure even when threatened. That's our first yearning—to know we can trust the world and people around us.
The second stage of human development is called Autonomy vs. Shame and Doubt. Between the ages of 18 months and three, children begin to assert their independence. If children in this stage are encouraged and supported in their increased independence, they become more confident and secure in their own ability to survive in the world.
If children are criticized, overly controlled, or not given the opportunity to assert themselves, they begin to feel inadequate in their ability to survive, and may then become overly dependent upon others, lack self-esteem, and feel a sense of shame or doubt in their abilities. So at this stage, our deepest yearning is for self-confidence.
The third stage is Initiative vs. Guilt. Around age three and continuing to age five, children assert themselves more frequently. Children develop a sense of initiative and feel secure in their ability to lead others and make decisions.
Conversely, if this tendency is squelched, either through criticism or control, children develop a sense of guilt. They may feel like a nuisance to others and will, therefore, remain followers, lacking in self-initiative. The deep yearning at this stage is the beginning of feeling a sense of leadership and purpose.
The fourth stage is called Industry (competence) vs. Inferiority. This stage occurs during childhood between the ages of five and twelve. If children are encouraged and reinforced for their initiative, they begin to feel industrious and feel confident in their ability to achieve goals. If this initiative is not encouraged, if it is restricted by parents or teacher, then the child begins to feel inferior, doubting his own abilities and therefore may not reach his or her potential. Our deep yearning at this stage is a positive answer to the question, "Am I a person of competence?"
The fifth stage is Identity vs. Role Confusion. It occurs during adolescence, from about 12-18 years. During this stage, adolescents search for a sense of self and personal identity, through an intense exploration of personal values, beliefs and goals. Two identities are involved: the sexual identity, and the values/beliefs identity. These are huge, and when teenagers feel pressured by others into a certain identity, it can result in rebellion in the form of establishing a negative identity within their sexuality and their values.
There's a really good book that came out about 25 years ago titled, Leaving Home. (I'm sorry I couldn't find it on the internet, so if you were interested, you could check it out. It may be out of print. I can do some more digging, if you're interested.) The author's premise is teenagers whole yearning at this stage is leaving home. They don't want to do it in one fell swoop, but in pieces. Everything they are about is defining themselves apart from the growing up family, and the only way they think they can do that is by getting out of their family. Thus, parents and teenagers enter into this weird dance of moving away from each other, then drawing close; moving away and drawing close.
The sixth stage is called Intimacy vs. Isolation. Occurring in young adulthood (ages 18 to 40 yrs), we begin to share ourselves more intimately with others. We explore relationships leading toward longer-term commitments with someone other than a family member. This is the stage the so-called Millennials (even though there may be no such things as millennials) would be in right now.
The main difference between how this stage worked when Erickson developed his stage theory and now, is called the internet. Previous to the internet, people going through this stage did it face-to-face. Now they are doing it via Facebook, Instagram and other social media. The main yearning is still the same—developing deep relationship—but it's much different trying to accomplish that over the cyber net.
The second to last stage is Generativity vs. Stagnation. This stage is when we are 40 to 65 years old. During this stage we are trying to make an impact on our world, rather than the world making an impact on us. We have developed our "vivid vision" for ourselves and we are trying to live into that vision. We attempt to impact society through raising our children, being productive at work, and becoming involved in community activities and organizations. By failing to achieve these objectives, by failing our Vivid Vision, we become stagnant and feel unproductive. So our main yearning in this stage is for impact.
Lastly, stage eight, is called Ego Integrity vs. Despair. That sounds awesome, doesn't it? As we grow older (65+ yrs) and become senior citizens, we tend to slow down our productivity and explore life as a retired person. It is during this time that we contemplate our accomplishments and can develop integrity if we see ourselves as leading a successful life. In doing so, we are attempting to answer at least two questions at once. One is, "Is what society is telling me, that if I haven't reached my Vivid Vision yet, I never will—is that evaluation correct? (I'd say it's a lie. Don't believe it.) The other question has to do with, "Have I lived a life I am proud of?"
Depending on how we answer those questions, if we see our lives as unproductive, feel guilt about our past, or feel that we did not accomplish our life goals, we become dissatisfied with life and develop despair, often leading to depression and hopelessness. At this stage our deepest yearning has to do with wondering if we mattered.
As you can see by this stage theory of human development, our deepest yearnings change with whatever stage we are in. None of these deep yearnings have to do with money, or independent wealth, or anything self-centered. They all have to do with a person's place and role within other human relationships and our world. As you are going through these stages and if you are trying to come out on the other side as a lone wolf, you are not succeeding at meeting our deepest yearnings for great relationships.
What I like about Psalm 130 is that it highlights some of our deepest yearning within our deepest yearnings. Let's say that Erik Erickson is right in his observations about the stages we go through. They are built upon very deep psycho social yearnings. But as we go through each of those stages there are deeper needs we have, that Psalm 130 points to.
The first is in the first verse—I know this must be a deep, deep part of our yearnings, because the psalmist uses this phrase in a lot of psalms. It reads:
From the depths of my despair I call to you, Lord.
Hear my cry, O Lord;
listen to my call for help!
Hear me when I'm crying, O Lord. Or, literally, "Hear my tears, O Lord." What is the sound of tears flowing down from our eyes, cascading down our faces? What is the sound of that salty water pooling in our eyes? What is the sound of tears making their streaks and trails upon our cheeks? What is that sound? Whatever that sound is, God hears it.
In all of our stages of life there is pain and struggle and failure. There are tears. But it used to be we shared those tears, we privileged others, with our tears. Crying was a communal thing—people cried with their families, with their friends, with community. Crying wasn't considered a sign of weakness or shame by women or by men.
Now when I ask people about their crying, I find it has become an entirely private matter. Tears are shed in the shower, or in the shop, or on the tractor. It's a deeply human emoting that is hidden away in the closet. You don't want anyone to see you or hear you. But yet, but yet, you deeply wish someone heard, someone was paying attention. You deeply yearn for someone to hold you while you cried. "Hear my cry, O Lord. Don't leave me alone in my tears…"
Isn't that a deep, deep secret yearning of us all? Even though most of you probably cry alone, is not your deep, deep hope and yearning that through all your stages and ways of life, your tears will not go unheard or unnoticed?
The other deep, deep yearning Psalm 130 brings out has to do with forgiveness.
If you kept a record of our sins,
who could escape being condemned?
But you forgive us,
so that we should stand in awe of you.
The assumption and acknowledgement of that statement is that we mess up, and we mess up a lot. The other truth of this statement is that we can't hide our messes from God.
Notice the "If" at the start of the statement. It's in almost every translation. The inference is that God could keep a record of our screw ups (plural) but chooses not to. Instead of keeping a list, God simply forgives. Since there is no list, that means God also forgets our mess ups and screw ups.
Who could stand? Who could escape? Who would last long? (All depending on what version you are using.) The assumption is that we would all be doomed! We would be doomed because the other assumption behind the "God list" is that God sees all. Nothing we do, say, think escapes God's ever watching eyes. And, another assumption behind the "God list" is that we would each be judged for what's on our list; and that judgement wouldn't go well for us.
The "If" is countered, thank God, with the "But" of verse four. "But, there is forgiveness with you…" God evidently doesn't want to be known as the list-making God.
He's making a list,
He's checking it twice,
He's gonna find out who's naughty or nice
(God Almighty's) coming to town.
God could be a list-making God, But God doesn't want to. God wants us to be attracted by forgiveness, not be afraid of God's "list."
Think about the stages of development you've already gone through. All the times you've screwed up. All the times you've made awful choices that led not to growth and spiritual maturity, but to more bad choices, and more messes. All the times we sinned.
Isn't what God is promising in Psalm 130 what we hope and yearn for? Forgiveness. Understanding. Someone who sees the big picture about us, which is the prerequisite for true and full forgiveness. To know that God is not about finding fault, but finding a way into forgiveness for us.
These are our deepest hopes and yearnings in life—having someone who hears our tears; and having someone who knows us and forgives us anyway. These yearnings have everything to do with God, and our acknowledgement of God in the deepest parts of our lives. May you all find what you are most deeply yearning for.
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