"Experiencing God: Joining God Requires Obedience"
Matthew 21:23-32
I hated chores when I was growing up. Being second oldest, a lot of the chores fell to my older brother and me. I especially hated the outdoor chores.
Like mowing. Our father taught my older brother and I to walk by mowing the lawn. He would duct tape our hands to the handle of the mower giving us something to hang on to and balance ourselves while we attempted to walk back and forth across the yard being pulled along by this smoke belching behemoth. And it was a big yard. He'd sit on the front porch, watching every now and then to make sure we hadn't fallen down and let the mower get away from us.
Later, he got the hair-brained idea that it would be better to get a manual push mower. You know, the kind with no motor. My older brother and I would find some way to disappear on Saturday mornings before our father woke up and ordered us to push the manual push mower back and forth across our immense back yard.
At least I thought it was immense, until I took Ryan and Kristin there, when they were younger, to show them where I grew up. I had told them stories about this huge back yard, and when I took them there, magically the backyard had shrunk to about a fourth the size I remembered it to be.
The other outdoor chore I hated was weeding. Our house was built on a hillside, so we had this huge retaining wall in the front made of big rocks. We called it "the rockery." Digging weeds out from the crevices between the rocks was sheer torture. The only time it was fun to weed the rockery was when my older brother made some homemade firecrackers with his chemistry set, and we blew the weeds out. My youngest brother, when he was finally old enough to do outside chores, picked up quickly on the same method of weeding.
At the top of the rockery, along our long driveway, my mother had a rose garden. The most dreaded words to be heard in our house, besides, "Go out and mow the backyard," were, "Go weed the rose garden and the rockery." Because of all the rain in Seattle, weeds grew prolifically. Which meant that once all the weeds were pulled, within another week, new ones were starting to grow, and they would laugh at us.
My older brother and I got out of these chores several times because of a little phrase we were sure our mother and father really meant to add to their orders. That little phrase was, "...by the end of the day." Certainly when we were told to go weed or mow, they didn't mean "now." So we figured we had the whole day to goof off. We would get the work done, sort of, "by the end of the day."
So, kids and parents alike should be able to relate to the story part of the parable Jesus told. Even though Jesus had no children, he certainly had an astute awareness of the ways of children and chores. And it's nice to know things evidently haven't changed much with kids and parents and doing chores.
So let's look at this parable.
The parable starts out describing a man. The man has two sons. We aren't told any more about the man other than the fact that he had two sons. That's because the parable is about the sons, not the father.
The first son is an Eddie Haskell type. You remember Eddie Haskell from the "Leave It To Beaver" TV show. Eddie would come into the Cleaver home and start his schmooze routine: "Hello Mr. Cleaver, Hello Mrs. Cleaver; you are looking very nice Mrs. Cleaver..." Eddie was an apple-polisher. That's how he got through life, telling people what they wanted to hear in order to get by. So this first son, let's call him Eddie, after being asked to go work in the family vineyard, gives the schmoozy answer: "Well, yes sir, I'd be happy to go work in the vineyard, sir." But then doesn't do a thing to lift a finger in that direction. And he probably had no intention of doing so.
The second kid was the brutally honest kind. Like Jim Carey's character in the movie, "Liar, Liar." Carey plays Fletcher Reed, an incredibly successful lawyer who has built that success by habitually lying in the courtroom. And also lying to his divorced wife and their son.
At one point in the movie, his son makes a birthday wish while blowing out his candles, that his father will never lie again. And the wish comes true. Fletcher can't lie anymore, and becomes brutally honest. At one point he walks into his office. The receptionist has her hair in mini pig tails all over the top of her head, and she's wearing an awful houndstooth dress combo. She says, "Hello Mr. Fletcher, do you you like my new dress?"
Fletcher replies, "Anything to distract from your face!"
That's the kind of person the second son is. Let's call him Fletcher. When asked to go work in the vineyard by his father, Fletcher, in effect says, "No way, old man; I've got better things to do, like play video games or chat with my friends on Facebook." But then Fletcher obeys, and goes and works as he's asked.
Note that the father had to ask both sons to go work. Neither of them volunteered to go work in the vineyard. Neither saw that it was just the course of the day to go out and work in the family business. "Who did what the father asked?" is the question asked. But this question is not part of the parable. It's asked by Jesus of the chief priests and elders, who were the listeners.
Being obedient to God is not determined by the first response to the father's bidding. Saying "yes" but doing nothing is not what the father, or Jesus, is looking for in terms of obeying. Saying "no," initially, and being disobedient, but then relenting and following through, seems allowable. And the reason seems to be that we show our commitment and obedience by doing, not just by assent or denial.
The whole parable turns on one little phrase. It comes up twice. It is the word "repent." Other translations use the phrase, "changed his mind." The word usually means, when you're going in one direction, you decide it's the wrong direction, and you make a complete U-turn, and head in the opposite direction.
But the way Jesus is using this word, there is a different meaning: it means to feel regret, or to experience remorse. A person changes their mind, and decided to act obediently, because their regret acts as a motivator to make some changes.
Bobby was staying with his Aunt Mary. He said, "Aunt Mary, I love the way you make pancakes. Could you make me some, and can I have as many as I want?"
So his Aunt went to work and started piling the pancakes on Bobby's plate as fast as he could eat them. After a dozen or so, he started to slow down. Then with a sick look on his face, he stopped eating completely. "What's wrong?" Aunt Mary asked. "Don't you want any more pancakes?"
Bobby replied, "No, I don't want anymore. I don't even want the ones I've already had."
That uncomfortable feeling of regret and remorse can be a powerful motivator for change. Especially when that change is moving a person to become more obedient.
Rudolph Hess, the awful henchman of Adolph Hitler, in his last public statement at the Nuremburg trials, said:
I was allowed for many years of my life to work under the greatest son that my people produced in their 1,000 year history. Even if I could I would not want to erase this. I am happy to know that I have done my duty to my people as a loyal follower of my fuher. I regret nothing.
Repentance and a new obedience never happened for Hess because there was no regret or remorse. The older son who said, "No," and sounded totally disobedient, felt these pangs of regret, and allowed those pangs to change his behavior and make him more of an obedient son.
A person can feel remorse but not allow that feeling of remorse to lead to obedience. Remorse and regret is a deep, almost torturing sense of guilt. Judas' remorse led to a self-destructive depression. If you can move from this deep regret to a deeper obedience to God, that allows God to take care of that remorse. Peter's remorse at denying knowing Jesus, lead to obedience, which lead to leadership in the church. It was an obedience and leadership that was marked by doing.
In the opening chapter of the book Robinson Crusoe, Defoe told how, in spite of the protest of his father and the tears of his Godly mother, he ran away from his home in York and went to sea. On his first voyage he was wrecked off Yarmouth and barely lived to tell about it. He regretted the course he had chosen for his life but was too ashamed to go back home and face the possibility that his friends would make fun of him. Or his parents say, "I told you so." So, wrote Defoe, "Men are not ashamed to sin, but are ashamed to repent and become obedient; not ashamed to do that of which they ought to be ashamed, but ashamed to do that which is their only hope and rescue."
The priests and the elders were the ones who were saying yes to God with their mouth, but showing a real lack of strength of conviction by doing nothing. The tax collectors and whores were the ones who originally said no to God, felt the remorse of their no and let that remorse lead them into obedience to God. Even when the priests and the elders saw the real power of remorse and regret lead the whores and tax collectors to obedience, they still did nothing to change their lives.
The priests and elders felt no regret about being two-faced. Being two-faced ultimately keeps a person from ultimate obedience. Who and what are you going to be obedient to, if your face is divided? Jesus didn't want the kind of obedience exemplified by the priests and elders--just giving Jesus a nod and a thumbs up, won't cut it.
There's an old story about a young angel who was expelled from heaven and told the only way to get the gates of heaven to open back up for her was to search the earth for the gift most valued by God.
She brought drops of blood from a dying martyr. She brought back the coins that a destitute widow had given to the poor. She brought back a page from the Bible owned by a tireless evangelist. She brought back a nail from a coffin of a missionary who had given his life for Christ in a remote place. But none of these opened the gates of heaven for her.
One day, she saw a small girl playing by a fountain, singing hymns to herself as she played. A man rode up on a horse and dismounted to have a drink from the fountain. He saw the child and heard her singing. He suddenly thought back to his boyhood innocence. He looked in the fountain and saw the reflection of what he had become. He suddenly saw a picture of what he had done with his life. Tears of regret and remorse began streaking his face. The young angel caught one of his tears and took it back to heaven, whereupon the gates were opened to her.
Is there an angel waiting by your cheek for that tear to drop? Have you said, "yes-yes" to Christ but your lack of obedience said, "no-no"? Are you saying all the right words so it looks like you are a religiously obedient person, but deep down, both you and Christ know the truth? Are you looking at your reflection, and more and more you don't like what you see? Are you hearing the wooing, childlike hymns of heaven, calling you to pay attention to your regrets, and begging you to live more obediently to Christ?
If so, bow in prayer with me:
Lord Jesus, we have made promises to commitment to you we haven't kept. Everyone thinks we're religious, but we know in our hearts we haven't fully made the next big step into obedience. So here we are again, Lord. We are so sorry. We have said "yes" to you so many times. But now our lack of obedience is turning into regret, and the regret is turning into remorse. We're ready to become fully obedient. Accept us who are ready to turn their lives over to your loving control. Please don't give up on those who aren't quite ready for that kind of obedience. Amen.
Monday, May 12, 2014
Monday, May 5, 2014
Experiencing God: Joining God Requires Making Adjustments
"Experiencing God: Joining God Requires Making Adjustments"
Luke 3:7-17
On Thursday mornings, I eat breakfast out at Rick's with three guys from church. Rex and Rod and Alan. We pretty much order the same thing each Thursday morning. I don't know why the waitress, who is as tall as I am when I'm sitting down, asks what we want. It's usually the same. When our plates come they are like a Rorschach Ink Blot Test, telling you something about our personalities. I won't tell who, but one of us orders just three egg whites. Or oatmeal. It isn't hard what that plate says about him.
Rod and Rex have to get to work earlier than Alan and I, so after they're gone to unlock doors or pick up donuts, Alan and I are left to have another piece of an ongoing conversation that's become a great part of our Thursday mornings. We talk about the great questions of life.
Lately, Alan and I have been talking about change. Can we really change, or are we stuck with the accumulation of all the choices we've made in life up to this point? We've been talking about whether change is difficult or easy. Or even doable. Can a person really change, significantly? We've been talking about, if change is doable, how quickly can we make a change--shift the course of our lives if we were to so choose? Can we change with the snap of our fingers, or is change more like shifting the course of an aircraft carrier at sea: a maneuver that has to happen in a wide arc turn that takes great distance and time? Is change really easy or really hard?
And it's not just about Alan and I as individuals. Can we bring about change in a business? Can the mission of the business change, and is it possible to get everyone on board with that shift? The same is true with the church. Can a congregation change in terms of what's been happening in the long history of that congregation? Can a congregation that has a 100+ year history, and has thereby created a certain DNA, change that DNA so that we are church differently?
It's interesting to me, that in our conversation about change, Alan and I never question or discuss whether change should happen. I think both of us assume that change is something that has to happen at strategic times in our lives. If we don't change we will stagnate, atrophy, get stuck in ruts that are detrimental to our professional or personal lives. Sometimes life forces us to change with some catastrophic event, or illness, or diagnosis. But most of the time it's just a certain antsy-ness that gets into our spirits, and we realize we've got to do something different. Be someone different. Be a business different. Be a church different.
One of the problems, when facing change, is we end up sabotaging ourselves. We want change, we decide to make changes, either personal or professional, then we see what it's really going to take. We begin backpedaling. We sabotage our intentions, and end up just staying the way we are. It's easier. We think it takes less energy to just stay the same, but I think we don't realize how hard it is to tread water in the ocean of our sameness, because we've been doing it so long.
The question we have to ask ourselves is, what's behind this antsy-ness to make a change in our lives? Or rather, Who is behind this antsy-ness. It's my estimation that God is the one who puts the ants in our pants, creating just the right amount of anxiety to get us thinking about making some personal changes. When we first get to know Christ, we understand that God accepts us as we are. But we also quickly understand that God wants us to make some changes. The more we are around God, the more we find out what needs to be changed, what needs to be worked on in the way we are living. Sometimes those changes are minor tweaks. Other times a minor tweak won't do--even though that's what we try to negotiate with God. Instead, God wants us to make a major shift in who we are as a person, a business, a church.
As we begin to understand the changes God wants us to make, we begin to ask ourselves the kinds of questions Alan and I have been talking about. How much can we change? How quickly does God want us to make this change, and is that doable? Do we want to change, or do we want to just keep walking in place, getting no where--and even though we're not getting anywhere, we're too comfortable getting nowhere. Are we going to get up and get moving with change, or are we going to drag our feet? Are we going to keep making the same old sad excuses, or are we going to allow God to energize us about new possibilities? Are we going to let God work on us or not?
I'm not sure about some of the changes God may want you as individuals to make. As I get to know you better and better, I see some things I think could be worked on by a number of you. I certainly see some changes our church needs to make if it's going to continue to exist over the next 25 years.
For the remainder of this message, I'm going to introduce you to a book that can help you devotionally wrestle with this whole thing about making changes. As a book, it is probably the second most read book besides the Bible. It has helped people make the kinds of changes in their lives that God may desire. The name of the book is The Imitation of Christ, by Thomas a' Kempis. It was written in the early 1400's. No one knows if Thomas a Kempis even existed. All we know is we have this body of Christian devotional work that has become the second most beloved book in the world, next to the Bible.
I'm going to throw a few excerpts from the book up on the screen, and talk about each of them for a few minutes. As we go through these, think about our change questions and if these intersect with where you're living. Think about the kinds of changes you'd like to make as a child of God.
Here's the first quote:
Deliver me from all evil passions, and heal my sick heart from all earthly inclinations, so that I may be inwardly healed and purged from all inordinate affections and vices, and be made ready and able to love You, strong to suffer for You, and firm to persevere in You. (Book 3, #5, page 110)
I want you to concentrate on two words in this quote: "passions" and "affections." The ancient monks thought and talked a lot about passions and affections. There is a light side and dark side to these two words.
Here, Thomas a' Kempis is talking about the dark side. "Evil passions" are what give us a sick heart. So, in pondering change, you have to ask yourself, first, what are my passions. What am I really passionate about? But then, according to Thomas, you have to ask, Are my passions evil or good? Do my passions build up my heart, and the hearts of those around me, or do my passions break my heart into pieces, as well as the hearts around me?
And thus, what kind of changes do I need to make about my passions?
The kinds of sabotage we work on ourselves in terms of our passions and affections have to do with what the ancient monks called our "wouldings." Our wouldings are those weak inclinations that lack conviction. Instead of making great changes in our hearts in The Lord, we, because of our wouldings, only raise ourselves a little above indifference. "What would happen if I really made some changes? Would people still like me? Would it take too long? Would making changes ask too much of me? You know how all these "wouldings" get in the way of us making the changes we know we need to make.
Paul said in Romans 12:11, "Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving The Lord." It's this fervent, vigorous engagement of the heart that keeps the wouldings away, as well as making sure our passions and affections aren't overcome by evil.
The great preacher, Jonathan Edwards, once said in a sermon:
I am bold in saying this, but I believe that no one is ever changed, either by doctrine, by hearing the Word, or by the preaching or teaching of another, unless the affections are moved by these things. No one ever seeks salvation, no one ever cries for wisdom, no one ever wrestles with God, no one ever kneels in prayer or flees from sin, with a heart that remains unaffected.
If we are going to make the kinds of changes God wants for us, we need to make sure there is fervor for God and the ways of God in our affections and in our passions. And that's a matter of the heart. Make sure your heart is impassioned and has the right affection, and the changes will be easier to make.
Here is the next quote from The Imitation Of Christ:
Every perfection in this life has some imperfection attached to it, and there is no knowledge in this world that is not mixed with some blindness or ignorance. Therefore, a humble knowledge of ourselves is a surer way to God than is the search for depth of learning. (Book 1, #3, page 35)
Nobody's perfect, is basically what he's saying. We flip that little two word phrase out, and we laugh. "Nobody's perfect." But the tone of our laughter is such that what we really mean is, "Nobody's perfect, except me, and if you'd just do what I said you'd be perfect too."
All of us in this sanctuary think we have an idea of perfection or what is perfect. The problem is, if we started telling each other what that is, all the ideas would be different. Because when you come down to it, what we think is the perfect is only what is most comfortable for us--what makes us most comfortable. It doesn't have anything to do with some objective perfection out there. Figuring that out is the beginning of wisdom.
So, in this quote, concentrate on the two words "blindness" and "ignorance." Isn't it easy to see other people's blind spots? But one of each of our own blind spots is seeing our own blind spots.
When I was out in California, I had just gotten done with a pre-marital counseling session, in which the prospective bride's jaw got increasingly slack. The prospective groom had talked about how his bride-to-be would get half the refrigerator for her stuff, and sleep in her own room on the other side of his house from his bedroom, and on and on.
I don't know where he got the idea that that's what married life is. It was a total blind spot in his thinking. And he was totally ignorant to how he was coming across to his fiancé, and how his talk was affecting her.
They left, and I leaned back in my chair and thought, "Wow! That was amazing." But then I thought, "I wonder what my blind spots are? What are the ways and behaviors I have that are kind of whacked out that everyone else sees but I'm totally ignorant to?" That's when I started praying, as Thomas a' Kempis suggests, for humble knowledge of myself that wouldn't let blind spots and ignorance of my self get in the way of my relationship with God and others A large part of being willing to make some changes in your life is this kind of humility--a humility that is willing to make a fearless inventory of your self, and allow others in on that inventory to point out things that you might be blind to.
The third quote from The Imitation of Christ is this:
There is, therefore, no peace in the heart of a carnal man or in the heart of a man who gives himself all to outward things. But in the heart of spiritual men and women who have their delight in God great peace and inward quiet are found. (Book 1, #6, page 38)
We usually don't describe a person as being "carnal" any more. A carnal person is someone who has an overactive desire to satisfy some bodily appetite. It's a passion for the physical, or things that have to do with the body. If you're struggling with an attraction to pornography, you would be described as carnal. Or eating disorders. Or body image issues.
But it's more than just the sensual pleasures. It has to do, in a more general sense, with things that are worldly and temporary. It's being overly passionate about outward things, surface things, things of no depth. It's the quick fix mentality that leaves you unsatisfied and always wanting more stuff, or different stuff, or better stuff. And once you have it, how long does that sense of pleasure last? Not very long.
That's why Thomas a' Kempis wisely states that the only cure for being a carnal person is a change of heart. If you're going to change, really change, then you have to go for the heart. You can't just make some surface tweaks here and there. It has to be a change that is deeply internal and heart felt.
The two great terms in this quote are "great peace" and "inward quiet." I think the main problem of carnal type people is they have so much internal noise, so many internal voices clamoring for attention. There is no quietness in your heart. No great peace in your spirit. It's the pursuit of the external, the surface quick fixes, that create all this internal noise. Doesn't it seem that those who approach life with the most confidence and composure are those who are doing so from a sense of inner peace? They've found a quiet place within, a place from which they have taken a constant deep breath, where the noise just cannot encroach.
And, along with that, a' Kempis rightly states it is one's simple "delight in God" that creates that inner peace and quiet, and therefore stops all that noise, and shuts the mouths of all those other voices. Then comes the great peace and inward quiet. That's a change I see so many people trying to make: that stability of quiet and peace that comes from the deep inner self. But they just can't quite make it. Maybe that's a change you'd really like to make.
I'm not sure what kinds of changes you would want to make in your walk with God. Or in your walk with your self. But I think you do. I think you know what kinds of adjustments, and shifts you feel would be best.
Would making those changes be easy or hard? Could you change like that (snap fingers), or will it take time? And if you know, deep down, what you need to change, and how to change, and how quickly you can change, what's holding you back?
Luke 3:7-17
On Thursday mornings, I eat breakfast out at Rick's with three guys from church. Rex and Rod and Alan. We pretty much order the same thing each Thursday morning. I don't know why the waitress, who is as tall as I am when I'm sitting down, asks what we want. It's usually the same. When our plates come they are like a Rorschach Ink Blot Test, telling you something about our personalities. I won't tell who, but one of us orders just three egg whites. Or oatmeal. It isn't hard what that plate says about him.
Rod and Rex have to get to work earlier than Alan and I, so after they're gone to unlock doors or pick up donuts, Alan and I are left to have another piece of an ongoing conversation that's become a great part of our Thursday mornings. We talk about the great questions of life.
Lately, Alan and I have been talking about change. Can we really change, or are we stuck with the accumulation of all the choices we've made in life up to this point? We've been talking about whether change is difficult or easy. Or even doable. Can a person really change, significantly? We've been talking about, if change is doable, how quickly can we make a change--shift the course of our lives if we were to so choose? Can we change with the snap of our fingers, or is change more like shifting the course of an aircraft carrier at sea: a maneuver that has to happen in a wide arc turn that takes great distance and time? Is change really easy or really hard?
And it's not just about Alan and I as individuals. Can we bring about change in a business? Can the mission of the business change, and is it possible to get everyone on board with that shift? The same is true with the church. Can a congregation change in terms of what's been happening in the long history of that congregation? Can a congregation that has a 100+ year history, and has thereby created a certain DNA, change that DNA so that we are church differently?
It's interesting to me, that in our conversation about change, Alan and I never question or discuss whether change should happen. I think both of us assume that change is something that has to happen at strategic times in our lives. If we don't change we will stagnate, atrophy, get stuck in ruts that are detrimental to our professional or personal lives. Sometimes life forces us to change with some catastrophic event, or illness, or diagnosis. But most of the time it's just a certain antsy-ness that gets into our spirits, and we realize we've got to do something different. Be someone different. Be a business different. Be a church different.
One of the problems, when facing change, is we end up sabotaging ourselves. We want change, we decide to make changes, either personal or professional, then we see what it's really going to take. We begin backpedaling. We sabotage our intentions, and end up just staying the way we are. It's easier. We think it takes less energy to just stay the same, but I think we don't realize how hard it is to tread water in the ocean of our sameness, because we've been doing it so long.
The question we have to ask ourselves is, what's behind this antsy-ness to make a change in our lives? Or rather, Who is behind this antsy-ness. It's my estimation that God is the one who puts the ants in our pants, creating just the right amount of anxiety to get us thinking about making some personal changes. When we first get to know Christ, we understand that God accepts us as we are. But we also quickly understand that God wants us to make some changes. The more we are around God, the more we find out what needs to be changed, what needs to be worked on in the way we are living. Sometimes those changes are minor tweaks. Other times a minor tweak won't do--even though that's what we try to negotiate with God. Instead, God wants us to make a major shift in who we are as a person, a business, a church.
As we begin to understand the changes God wants us to make, we begin to ask ourselves the kinds of questions Alan and I have been talking about. How much can we change? How quickly does God want us to make this change, and is that doable? Do we want to change, or do we want to just keep walking in place, getting no where--and even though we're not getting anywhere, we're too comfortable getting nowhere. Are we going to get up and get moving with change, or are we going to drag our feet? Are we going to keep making the same old sad excuses, or are we going to allow God to energize us about new possibilities? Are we going to let God work on us or not?
I'm not sure about some of the changes God may want you as individuals to make. As I get to know you better and better, I see some things I think could be worked on by a number of you. I certainly see some changes our church needs to make if it's going to continue to exist over the next 25 years.
For the remainder of this message, I'm going to introduce you to a book that can help you devotionally wrestle with this whole thing about making changes. As a book, it is probably the second most read book besides the Bible. It has helped people make the kinds of changes in their lives that God may desire. The name of the book is The Imitation of Christ, by Thomas a' Kempis. It was written in the early 1400's. No one knows if Thomas a Kempis even existed. All we know is we have this body of Christian devotional work that has become the second most beloved book in the world, next to the Bible.
I'm going to throw a few excerpts from the book up on the screen, and talk about each of them for a few minutes. As we go through these, think about our change questions and if these intersect with where you're living. Think about the kinds of changes you'd like to make as a child of God.
Here's the first quote:
Deliver me from all evil passions, and heal my sick heart from all earthly inclinations, so that I may be inwardly healed and purged from all inordinate affections and vices, and be made ready and able to love You, strong to suffer for You, and firm to persevere in You. (Book 3, #5, page 110)
I want you to concentrate on two words in this quote: "passions" and "affections." The ancient monks thought and talked a lot about passions and affections. There is a light side and dark side to these two words.
Here, Thomas a' Kempis is talking about the dark side. "Evil passions" are what give us a sick heart. So, in pondering change, you have to ask yourself, first, what are my passions. What am I really passionate about? But then, according to Thomas, you have to ask, Are my passions evil or good? Do my passions build up my heart, and the hearts of those around me, or do my passions break my heart into pieces, as well as the hearts around me?
And thus, what kind of changes do I need to make about my passions?
The kinds of sabotage we work on ourselves in terms of our passions and affections have to do with what the ancient monks called our "wouldings." Our wouldings are those weak inclinations that lack conviction. Instead of making great changes in our hearts in The Lord, we, because of our wouldings, only raise ourselves a little above indifference. "What would happen if I really made some changes? Would people still like me? Would it take too long? Would making changes ask too much of me? You know how all these "wouldings" get in the way of us making the changes we know we need to make.
Paul said in Romans 12:11, "Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving The Lord." It's this fervent, vigorous engagement of the heart that keeps the wouldings away, as well as making sure our passions and affections aren't overcome by evil.
The great preacher, Jonathan Edwards, once said in a sermon:
I am bold in saying this, but I believe that no one is ever changed, either by doctrine, by hearing the Word, or by the preaching or teaching of another, unless the affections are moved by these things. No one ever seeks salvation, no one ever cries for wisdom, no one ever wrestles with God, no one ever kneels in prayer or flees from sin, with a heart that remains unaffected.
If we are going to make the kinds of changes God wants for us, we need to make sure there is fervor for God and the ways of God in our affections and in our passions. And that's a matter of the heart. Make sure your heart is impassioned and has the right affection, and the changes will be easier to make.
Here is the next quote from The Imitation Of Christ:
Every perfection in this life has some imperfection attached to it, and there is no knowledge in this world that is not mixed with some blindness or ignorance. Therefore, a humble knowledge of ourselves is a surer way to God than is the search for depth of learning. (Book 1, #3, page 35)
Nobody's perfect, is basically what he's saying. We flip that little two word phrase out, and we laugh. "Nobody's perfect." But the tone of our laughter is such that what we really mean is, "Nobody's perfect, except me, and if you'd just do what I said you'd be perfect too."
All of us in this sanctuary think we have an idea of perfection or what is perfect. The problem is, if we started telling each other what that is, all the ideas would be different. Because when you come down to it, what we think is the perfect is only what is most comfortable for us--what makes us most comfortable. It doesn't have anything to do with some objective perfection out there. Figuring that out is the beginning of wisdom.
So, in this quote, concentrate on the two words "blindness" and "ignorance." Isn't it easy to see other people's blind spots? But one of each of our own blind spots is seeing our own blind spots.
When I was out in California, I had just gotten done with a pre-marital counseling session, in which the prospective bride's jaw got increasingly slack. The prospective groom had talked about how his bride-to-be would get half the refrigerator for her stuff, and sleep in her own room on the other side of his house from his bedroom, and on and on.
I don't know where he got the idea that that's what married life is. It was a total blind spot in his thinking. And he was totally ignorant to how he was coming across to his fiancé, and how his talk was affecting her.
They left, and I leaned back in my chair and thought, "Wow! That was amazing." But then I thought, "I wonder what my blind spots are? What are the ways and behaviors I have that are kind of whacked out that everyone else sees but I'm totally ignorant to?" That's when I started praying, as Thomas a' Kempis suggests, for humble knowledge of myself that wouldn't let blind spots and ignorance of my self get in the way of my relationship with God and others A large part of being willing to make some changes in your life is this kind of humility--a humility that is willing to make a fearless inventory of your self, and allow others in on that inventory to point out things that you might be blind to.
The third quote from The Imitation of Christ is this:
There is, therefore, no peace in the heart of a carnal man or in the heart of a man who gives himself all to outward things. But in the heart of spiritual men and women who have their delight in God great peace and inward quiet are found. (Book 1, #6, page 38)
We usually don't describe a person as being "carnal" any more. A carnal person is someone who has an overactive desire to satisfy some bodily appetite. It's a passion for the physical, or things that have to do with the body. If you're struggling with an attraction to pornography, you would be described as carnal. Or eating disorders. Or body image issues.
But it's more than just the sensual pleasures. It has to do, in a more general sense, with things that are worldly and temporary. It's being overly passionate about outward things, surface things, things of no depth. It's the quick fix mentality that leaves you unsatisfied and always wanting more stuff, or different stuff, or better stuff. And once you have it, how long does that sense of pleasure last? Not very long.
That's why Thomas a' Kempis wisely states that the only cure for being a carnal person is a change of heart. If you're going to change, really change, then you have to go for the heart. You can't just make some surface tweaks here and there. It has to be a change that is deeply internal and heart felt.
The two great terms in this quote are "great peace" and "inward quiet." I think the main problem of carnal type people is they have so much internal noise, so many internal voices clamoring for attention. There is no quietness in your heart. No great peace in your spirit. It's the pursuit of the external, the surface quick fixes, that create all this internal noise. Doesn't it seem that those who approach life with the most confidence and composure are those who are doing so from a sense of inner peace? They've found a quiet place within, a place from which they have taken a constant deep breath, where the noise just cannot encroach.
And, along with that, a' Kempis rightly states it is one's simple "delight in God" that creates that inner peace and quiet, and therefore stops all that noise, and shuts the mouths of all those other voices. Then comes the great peace and inward quiet. That's a change I see so many people trying to make: that stability of quiet and peace that comes from the deep inner self. But they just can't quite make it. Maybe that's a change you'd really like to make.
I'm not sure what kinds of changes you would want to make in your walk with God. Or in your walk with your self. But I think you do. I think you know what kinds of adjustments, and shifts you feel would be best.
Would making those changes be easy or hard? Could you change like that (snap fingers), or will it take time? And if you know, deep down, what you need to change, and how to change, and how quickly you can change, what's holding you back?
Monday, April 28, 2014
Experiencing God: Crisis Of Faith
"Experiencing God: Crisis of Faith"
1 Corinthians 10:13
Maybe some of you used to listen to Paul Harvey on the radio. When I listened, I remember his show came on at noon, and I'd listen to his news and his spin on the news while I made my lunch.
Later on in his career he started a radio segment called, "The Rest of the Story." He'd spin some true story about some seemingly obscure character, and some troubles they caused or ran into. Then at the very end he'd say something like, "The young man in this story was Abraham Lincoln. And now you know, the rest of the story."
I feel like that's what I need to do with this chapter from Experiencing God. There was something I wasn't liking about it the whole chapter, and I finally put my finger on it when I was going over it again, re-reading it. There's more to this chapter that Blackaby is not making clear, or that he maybe doesn't realize. There is more to this story.
I came across a line in the chapter that epitomized what was kicking off my feelings. Blackaby wrote:
When God lets you know what He wants to do through you, it will be something only He can do...If you lack faith, you will not do what He wants, and that is disobedience. (page 211)
My sense of logic recoils at that statement. If God asks us to do things that only he can do, then why is he asking us to do them? Why doesn't God just go ahead and do them? Why does God need us?
And then for Blackaby to make the statement that if I don't have enough faith I'm a loser and disobedient to God. So my question here is, how much faith is enough? How much faith do I need to exhibit so that I know when I've crossed the line over into enough faith? Where's that line?
And if I don't have enough faith, I must have to try harder, or do something different, or do more, so it will get me over the line. And you can probably understand where that would get me--it doesn't become faith any more. It becomes working at faith. It's not about faith at all anymore. It's about me working hard to make myself approved by God so God won't call me disobedient.
Which is the very thing Paul said we shouldn't do. There's no grace anymore. There's nothing about grace in Blackaby's statement. You are either working at being more faithful or you are disobedient.
Paul saw that as the dog-chasing-its-tail syndrome. He wrote about it in Romans where he said,
But I need something more! For if I know the law but still can't keep it, and if the power of sin within me keeps sabotaging my best intentions, I obviously need help! I realize that I don't have what it takes. I can will it, but I can't do it. I decide to do good, but I don't really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. My decisions, such as they are, don't result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time. (Romans 7:17-20)
Paul's answer to his dilemma:
The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influence of sin to do something totally different. (Romans 7:25)
The "crisis of belief" that Blackaby is trying to explain is the wrong crisis of belief. The crisis of belief isn't about doing or not doing some task that God may or may not have asked you to do. The only crisis of belief that has to do with faith is allowing God to save you from yourself and your sin. You can't do that as much as you may try. God, through Jesus Christ, has to do that.
Paul knew. He tried. And it didn't work. Every time he tried to save himself with some technique, with attempting something more, better, or different, he ended up back in the sin hole.
This isn't about doing stuff for God. God could do all that stuff himself. This isn't about making brownie points with God so that you don't get the "loser" label, or "disobedient" label pasted to your forehead. This is about letting God do what God does best: letting him save us from our sinful selves, and being welcomed into the arms of God's grace.
The other point that aroused my disagreements with this chapter had to do with the basic premise of the chapter. Let's go back to that line I quoted earlier from the chapter: "When God lets you know what He wants to do through you, it will be something only He can do."
I want to reword that statement to read thus: "When God lets you know what He wants to do through you, it will be something only you and He can do." Listen to this statement again (reread). Can you catch the power of that one little word change.
We who believe, know what God can do. What can God do? Anything and everything. Is there anything God can't do? No! So in the back of our minds we know we need God. We understand we can't do life without God. It's a given. Are we all agreed on that?
And, by making that statement, as I said before, if God can do everything and anything, God doesn't need us. God could do it all by God's self.
BUT, God chooses not to. God chooses to enlist us to accomplish what God wants done in the world. Therefore, God needs us. Because God has chosen to use us human beings, as frail as we are, tending to sin as we do, God still has chosen to use us in the plan. God has chosen to need us. We need God--definitely. But just as importantly, God needs us. Has desired to need us.
That's why God has given us all certain gifts, abilities, talents, particular usefulness, to use as we make our way through life. These gifts God has given us are to be used to help God accomplish what God want's accomplished. If God didn't need us, God wouldn't have endowed us with some great gifts and characteristics.
So the crisis of faith, as Blackaby calls it in this chapter, is not, as he states, Do we have faith enough in God to accomplish something huge God wants done. The crisis of faith is, for each of us, Do we have enough faith in ourselves to do what God wants done? God has given us all the resources we need. God has picked us for accomplishing distinctive parts of God's plan. God believes in us. Otherwise God wouldn't have chosen us for the particular tasks God has. So once we are chosen by God, do we believe in ourselves, and what God has endowed us with, to do it? That's a crisis of faith!
In one of the old All In The Family episodes, Edith and Archie are attending Edith's high school class reunion. Edith meets up with an old classmate named Buck, who has allowed himself to become extremely obese.
Edith and Buck have an engaging conversation about old times and the things they did together. Remarkably, Edith doesn't even notice how extremely heavy Buck has become.
Later, Edith and Archie are talking. She says, "Archie, ain't Buck a beautiful person?"
Archie replies, "Edith, I'll never figure you out. You and I can look at the same guy and you see a beautiful person and I see a blimp."
Edith replies, "Yeah, ain't that too bad."
"Ain't that too bad." Ain't that too bad that God sees something in you, has endowed you with certain spiritual gifts, believes in you, and has provided for you amazing opportunities to serve him. But you don't see it. Not only do you not see it, you don't believe enough in yourself so that you can get done what God wants, and by asking you God clearly sees you have it within you to do it.
Blackaby says, "When God lets you know what He wants to do through you, it will be something only He can do." But I say, with Paul,
No test or temptation that comes your way is beyond the course of what others have had to face. All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; he'll never let you be pushed past your limit; he'll always be there to help you come through it. (1 Corinthians 10:13)
People usually misquote or misrepresent this verse. Usually people use this verse when they are going through some awful experience, or a loved one is going through an awful experience. But Paul isn't talking about that. Paul is talking about dealing with our temptations, which are ultimately tests of our faith.
And I think one of the biggest temptations we face has to do with our belief in ourselves in respect to what God may ask of us. That temptation is the ultimate test of how we see ourselves vs. how God sees us. Our temptation is to succumb to the message that we can't do what God wants us to do, not because we don't think God could do it through us, but because we don't believe in ourselves.
The temptation is not to be receptive to God's nudgings because we don't think we have it in us, that we are not worthy, or we are not able, or that God just doesn't have it right about what he's trying to tell us about our individual strengths and abilities. Our biggest temptation is to tell God we think he has it all wrong about us. That he's chosen the wrong person. The temptation is not to believe in ourselves when God absolutely believes in us, or else he wouldn't have beckoned us into his work.
What will it take for you to see what God sees in you? Because once you see it, you will know the rest of the story.
1 Corinthians 10:13
Maybe some of you used to listen to Paul Harvey on the radio. When I listened, I remember his show came on at noon, and I'd listen to his news and his spin on the news while I made my lunch.
Later on in his career he started a radio segment called, "The Rest of the Story." He'd spin some true story about some seemingly obscure character, and some troubles they caused or ran into. Then at the very end he'd say something like, "The young man in this story was Abraham Lincoln. And now you know, the rest of the story."
I feel like that's what I need to do with this chapter from Experiencing God. There was something I wasn't liking about it the whole chapter, and I finally put my finger on it when I was going over it again, re-reading it. There's more to this chapter that Blackaby is not making clear, or that he maybe doesn't realize. There is more to this story.
I came across a line in the chapter that epitomized what was kicking off my feelings. Blackaby wrote:
When God lets you know what He wants to do through you, it will be something only He can do...If you lack faith, you will not do what He wants, and that is disobedience. (page 211)
My sense of logic recoils at that statement. If God asks us to do things that only he can do, then why is he asking us to do them? Why doesn't God just go ahead and do them? Why does God need us?
And then for Blackaby to make the statement that if I don't have enough faith I'm a loser and disobedient to God. So my question here is, how much faith is enough? How much faith do I need to exhibit so that I know when I've crossed the line over into enough faith? Where's that line?
And if I don't have enough faith, I must have to try harder, or do something different, or do more, so it will get me over the line. And you can probably understand where that would get me--it doesn't become faith any more. It becomes working at faith. It's not about faith at all anymore. It's about me working hard to make myself approved by God so God won't call me disobedient.
Which is the very thing Paul said we shouldn't do. There's no grace anymore. There's nothing about grace in Blackaby's statement. You are either working at being more faithful or you are disobedient.
Paul saw that as the dog-chasing-its-tail syndrome. He wrote about it in Romans where he said,
But I need something more! For if I know the law but still can't keep it, and if the power of sin within me keeps sabotaging my best intentions, I obviously need help! I realize that I don't have what it takes. I can will it, but I can't do it. I decide to do good, but I don't really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. My decisions, such as they are, don't result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time. (Romans 7:17-20)
Paul's answer to his dilemma:
The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influence of sin to do something totally different. (Romans 7:25)
The "crisis of belief" that Blackaby is trying to explain is the wrong crisis of belief. The crisis of belief isn't about doing or not doing some task that God may or may not have asked you to do. The only crisis of belief that has to do with faith is allowing God to save you from yourself and your sin. You can't do that as much as you may try. God, through Jesus Christ, has to do that.
Paul knew. He tried. And it didn't work. Every time he tried to save himself with some technique, with attempting something more, better, or different, he ended up back in the sin hole.
This isn't about doing stuff for God. God could do all that stuff himself. This isn't about making brownie points with God so that you don't get the "loser" label, or "disobedient" label pasted to your forehead. This is about letting God do what God does best: letting him save us from our sinful selves, and being welcomed into the arms of God's grace.
The other point that aroused my disagreements with this chapter had to do with the basic premise of the chapter. Let's go back to that line I quoted earlier from the chapter: "When God lets you know what He wants to do through you, it will be something only He can do."
I want to reword that statement to read thus: "When God lets you know what He wants to do through you, it will be something only you and He can do." Listen to this statement again (reread). Can you catch the power of that one little word change.
We who believe, know what God can do. What can God do? Anything and everything. Is there anything God can't do? No! So in the back of our minds we know we need God. We understand we can't do life without God. It's a given. Are we all agreed on that?
And, by making that statement, as I said before, if God can do everything and anything, God doesn't need us. God could do it all by God's self.
BUT, God chooses not to. God chooses to enlist us to accomplish what God wants done in the world. Therefore, God needs us. Because God has chosen to use us human beings, as frail as we are, tending to sin as we do, God still has chosen to use us in the plan. God has chosen to need us. We need God--definitely. But just as importantly, God needs us. Has desired to need us.
That's why God has given us all certain gifts, abilities, talents, particular usefulness, to use as we make our way through life. These gifts God has given us are to be used to help God accomplish what God want's accomplished. If God didn't need us, God wouldn't have endowed us with some great gifts and characteristics.
So the crisis of faith, as Blackaby calls it in this chapter, is not, as he states, Do we have faith enough in God to accomplish something huge God wants done. The crisis of faith is, for each of us, Do we have enough faith in ourselves to do what God wants done? God has given us all the resources we need. God has picked us for accomplishing distinctive parts of God's plan. God believes in us. Otherwise God wouldn't have chosen us for the particular tasks God has. So once we are chosen by God, do we believe in ourselves, and what God has endowed us with, to do it? That's a crisis of faith!
In one of the old All In The Family episodes, Edith and Archie are attending Edith's high school class reunion. Edith meets up with an old classmate named Buck, who has allowed himself to become extremely obese.
Edith and Buck have an engaging conversation about old times and the things they did together. Remarkably, Edith doesn't even notice how extremely heavy Buck has become.
Later, Edith and Archie are talking. She says, "Archie, ain't Buck a beautiful person?"
Archie replies, "Edith, I'll never figure you out. You and I can look at the same guy and you see a beautiful person and I see a blimp."
Edith replies, "Yeah, ain't that too bad."
"Ain't that too bad." Ain't that too bad that God sees something in you, has endowed you with certain spiritual gifts, believes in you, and has provided for you amazing opportunities to serve him. But you don't see it. Not only do you not see it, you don't believe enough in yourself so that you can get done what God wants, and by asking you God clearly sees you have it within you to do it.
Blackaby says, "When God lets you know what He wants to do through you, it will be something only He can do." But I say, with Paul,
No test or temptation that comes your way is beyond the course of what others have had to face. All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; he'll never let you be pushed past your limit; he'll always be there to help you come through it. (1 Corinthians 10:13)
People usually misquote or misrepresent this verse. Usually people use this verse when they are going through some awful experience, or a loved one is going through an awful experience. But Paul isn't talking about that. Paul is talking about dealing with our temptations, which are ultimately tests of our faith.
And I think one of the biggest temptations we face has to do with our belief in ourselves in respect to what God may ask of us. That temptation is the ultimate test of how we see ourselves vs. how God sees us. Our temptation is to succumb to the message that we can't do what God wants us to do, not because we don't think God could do it through us, but because we don't believe in ourselves.
The temptation is not to be receptive to God's nudgings because we don't think we have it in us, that we are not worthy, or we are not able, or that God just doesn't have it right about what he's trying to tell us about our individual strengths and abilities. Our biggest temptation is to tell God we think he has it all wrong about us. That he's chosen the wrong person. The temptation is not to believe in ourselves when God absolutely believes in us, or else he wouldn't have beckoned us into his work.
What will it take for you to see what God sees in you? Because once you see it, you will know the rest of the story.
Monday, April 21, 2014
Easter Cantata Messages
Easter Cantata Messages
How It All Began
Come on a journey with me. First to Bethlehem. It is still a small town. Still there's a Main Street. On each side of the street are souvenir shops. On the shelves of these shops, olive wood carved nativity sets, and crosses, and icons, and communion cups--also olive wood, turned on lathes to look like miniature chalices. So much stuff for sale.
Ahead, the largest building in Bethlehem is actually three: the church of St. Catherine; the Greek Convent; and, the Church of St. George.
The grotto where it was believed Jesus was born is encased in marble. A 14 point silver star marks the exact spot where it is believed Mary birthed Jesus. 15 lamps, eternally burning, hover above and around the silver star.
Just across from the star is the manger scene. A simple wood slated hay manger with a plastic Jesus laying in it.
It didn't always look that way. Hay strewn about. Instead of tourists mulling and pushing and shoving to get a photograph with their iPhone, there were live stock looking without seeing, straight ahead, chewing the cud.
Instead of people from different countries, buying trinkets, there were people from different parts of Israel, and different social classes registering their identities so Herod could make sure he was receiving all the tax to which he felt he was entitled.
Instead of a plastic doll, there was a real, live, kicking, crying, needy baby. The baby laid upon a young woman's chest--a girl, really. Does she know she's nursing God?
As He Grew
There is no "shadow of the temple" any more. That's because there is no more temple. All that's left is one wall: known as the Western Wall, or the Wailing Wall. The temple was destroyed in 70 A.D. by the Romans, and the western wall was left by the Roman armies as a sign that attests to their ultimate and destructive power.
The Wailing Wall is the most sacred place for Jews in Israel. It is a place of prayer. People come from all over the world, and either speak their prayers to God, or write them on little pieces of paper and cram them into the little cracks and crevices in the wall's mortar.
Imagine Jesus moving in and out of that great temple throughout his ministry. In that temple Jesus made connection with God from early infancy on through to the last days of his life. He also tried to help others make connection with God--and was killed for it.
At one point Jesus said, "Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up" (John 2:19). As John the gospel writer correctly surmised, the "temple" Jesus talked about was his body.
But Jesus correctly prophesied the temple's destruction. The real temple, the real place to worship wasn't going to be a building or even what was left of a building. The most authentic place to worship would be a person--the person of the Risen Christ.
The Lord's Supper
There is an old joke about the painting of the Last Supper. All of those paintings show Jesus and the disciples on the one side of the table, sitting upright, Jesus in the very middle.
The joke is that Jesus said to the disciples, "OK, everyone who wants to get in the picture come to this side of the table."
More accurately, the disciples would have been all around the table, reclining at an angle out from the table. The table could have been low to the floor with the disciples and Jesus reclining on cushions. Jesus wouldn't have been in the middle of the table, like the painting shows, but at its head.
It would have been a relaxed atmosphere--just celebrating the Passover meal as they had so many times before.
It would have been relaxed, that is, until Jesus said, "One who has dipped in this cup will betray me." We all blame Judas as the betrayer. But Peter betrayed Jesus also. So did all the rest. After Jesus was arrested all the disciples took off and hid, leaving Jesus alone. Only some women stuck it out.
All the disciples at the Last Supper asked Jesus, "Is it I?" Jesus' reply? "You will all fall away because of me this night" (Matthew 26:31).
What a lonely meal for Jesus, looking around the table, seeing their relaxed faces, hearing their laughter, knowing that in a few hours, they "will all fall away."
Song: "Do You Believe In Me?"
Communion
I've patterned this Holy Week around three questions. At Maundy Thursday Communion, I had those in attendance ask the same question the disciples did around the table that night: "Is it I, Lord?" Am I a betrayer?
Earlier this morning at the sunrise service I asked the question to those who attended, "Did Jesus really come back to life?". And if he did, what difference does it make?
And here at the table, during our Easter worship is the question I just sung: "Do you believe in me?" That is, do you believe in Jesus? Do you really?
There's been a lot made lately of the coca cola commercial, "Are you a fan?" A number of my Christian friends have been putting up posts on Facebook that say, "Don't be a fan; be a follower," in terms of your relationship with Jesus. Jesus doesn't need any fans. Jesus needs followers, people who are true believers in Jesus and who Jesus was, and what Jesus was about.
All three of the questions lead to this one. As you take the bread and the cup, dedicate yourself anew to Jesus Christ, not as a fan, but as a follower--a true believer.
(Words of the Institution: the joyful feast in the kingdom of God)
Gethsemane
I was told, before I left on my trip to Israel, that there would be sacred moments: experiences I would not be able to anticipate, brushes with the Holy and holiness. The Garden of Gethsemane was one of those for me.
We arrived at dusk and were given some time to walk among the ancient olive trees. Some of those trees were alive when Jesus walked through it, knelt in anguished prayer, sweat dripping from his brow like blood. Somewhere in there, three of the disciples slept instead of staying with Jesus in wakeful prayer.
I prayed in anguish as well. Nothing like Jesus. But part of my life was ending. And I didn't know how to pray about that, other than groan and wish that there was somebody with me who knew what to say to God.
I thought it odd that there were so many pray-ers at the Wailing Wall, but hardly any here, in the Garden. Only our little tour group and a handful of others.
This is the place where Jesus really wrestled with God and with himself. Here is where questions turned into resolve. Here is where the horns that could have sounded the retreat for Jesus, were not blown. But instead Jesus moved forward from here--ever forward to what was to come.
Golgotha
One of the traditional sites of the Crucifixion is now a huge cathedral. It's called The Church of the Holy Sepulcher. In one part of the cathedral is a huge, ornate altar. Candles all above the altar, constantly lit. Beneath the altar is a hole in the floor. The hole is bored into the rock below it (you can see the rock underneath on each side of the altar).
You can reach under the altar and put your hand in the hole. I've done it. It's the hole into which the cross of Christ was set. I had an eerie feeling putting my hand in that hole. There was a long line of people waiting to do the same. Millions have probably done the same, and will do so on into the future. I couldn't linger too long.
I remember standing up, looking up, looking around at all the elaborate finery of the place. All of it kind of cheapened the experience for me.
Because it wasn't like this at all, that day--the day of Jesus' Crucifixion. There would have been blood--lots of blood not just from being spiked to the cross through the wrist and ankles. But also from the brutal whipping Jesus received prior to the crucifixion that still would have been oozing blood.
There would have been no gilded candle holders back then. Just used crosses already caked with blood, and sweat and dirt from the previous wearers. The back drop was no ornate triptych, but a cloudy sky, getting darker and darker.
No matter how much you may try, you can't pretty up a crucifixion. You can't hang a bunch of golden candle orbs around. You can't surround it with icons and tapestry. It's an execution. Someone is dying a horrible, excruciating, humiliating death. That someone is Jesus. And the reason is you and I.
Written In Red
I say it again: The reason is you and I. One of my favorite quotes about what Jesus was about, and what his death was about, goes like this: "It wasn't the nails that held Jesus to the Cross, but his love for you and me."
To what lengths would you go to tell someone how much you love them? How could you show the depth of your love?
There's no greater love than this, Jesus said, than someone lay down their lives for another.
A bomb has been thrown into the world. That bomb is evil. Evil that disrupts and destroys everything and everyone. In an act of self-sacrifice and love, Jesus jumped on that bomb, and took the explosion on himself, saving us from its deadly consequences.
Self-sacrificial love, written in red, the ultimate expression of love--the love that held him to the cross.
The End of the Journey Is the Beginning
We started out on a journey. We have traveled from Jesus' birth to death. We have asked important questions along the way. Life defining kinds of questions. Questions you would ask yourself if you were really concerned about your relationship with The Lord. If you were trying to figure out what life is all about. If you want to live by faith.
LIFE. Full life. Life like a cup overflowing. Life like the laughter of those set free. Life like those who have made God their goal, as well as the way to get to that goal. Both the way and the destination.
LIFE. Life like a Resurrection. Life like coming back from the dead. Life like God smiling because of you. Life like you smiling because God is smiling because of you. There is no greater joy than that--than living that kind of life.
LIFE. And it's all yours, given you by Christ through his Resurrection. What God has done through Jesus Christ is all about Life, and being fully alive.
LIFE. All you have to do is believe. Throw yourself at the resurrected Christ, fall into his arms, and LIVE!
How It All Began
Come on a journey with me. First to Bethlehem. It is still a small town. Still there's a Main Street. On each side of the street are souvenir shops. On the shelves of these shops, olive wood carved nativity sets, and crosses, and icons, and communion cups--also olive wood, turned on lathes to look like miniature chalices. So much stuff for sale.
Ahead, the largest building in Bethlehem is actually three: the church of St. Catherine; the Greek Convent; and, the Church of St. George.
The grotto where it was believed Jesus was born is encased in marble. A 14 point silver star marks the exact spot where it is believed Mary birthed Jesus. 15 lamps, eternally burning, hover above and around the silver star.
Just across from the star is the manger scene. A simple wood slated hay manger with a plastic Jesus laying in it.
It didn't always look that way. Hay strewn about. Instead of tourists mulling and pushing and shoving to get a photograph with their iPhone, there were live stock looking without seeing, straight ahead, chewing the cud.
Instead of people from different countries, buying trinkets, there were people from different parts of Israel, and different social classes registering their identities so Herod could make sure he was receiving all the tax to which he felt he was entitled.
Instead of a plastic doll, there was a real, live, kicking, crying, needy baby. The baby laid upon a young woman's chest--a girl, really. Does she know she's nursing God?
As He Grew
There is no "shadow of the temple" any more. That's because there is no more temple. All that's left is one wall: known as the Western Wall, or the Wailing Wall. The temple was destroyed in 70 A.D. by the Romans, and the western wall was left by the Roman armies as a sign that attests to their ultimate and destructive power.
The Wailing Wall is the most sacred place for Jews in Israel. It is a place of prayer. People come from all over the world, and either speak their prayers to God, or write them on little pieces of paper and cram them into the little cracks and crevices in the wall's mortar.
Imagine Jesus moving in and out of that great temple throughout his ministry. In that temple Jesus made connection with God from early infancy on through to the last days of his life. He also tried to help others make connection with God--and was killed for it.
At one point Jesus said, "Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up" (John 2:19). As John the gospel writer correctly surmised, the "temple" Jesus talked about was his body.
But Jesus correctly prophesied the temple's destruction. The real temple, the real place to worship wasn't going to be a building or even what was left of a building. The most authentic place to worship would be a person--the person of the Risen Christ.
The Lord's Supper
There is an old joke about the painting of the Last Supper. All of those paintings show Jesus and the disciples on the one side of the table, sitting upright, Jesus in the very middle.
The joke is that Jesus said to the disciples, "OK, everyone who wants to get in the picture come to this side of the table."
More accurately, the disciples would have been all around the table, reclining at an angle out from the table. The table could have been low to the floor with the disciples and Jesus reclining on cushions. Jesus wouldn't have been in the middle of the table, like the painting shows, but at its head.
It would have been a relaxed atmosphere--just celebrating the Passover meal as they had so many times before.
It would have been relaxed, that is, until Jesus said, "One who has dipped in this cup will betray me." We all blame Judas as the betrayer. But Peter betrayed Jesus also. So did all the rest. After Jesus was arrested all the disciples took off and hid, leaving Jesus alone. Only some women stuck it out.
All the disciples at the Last Supper asked Jesus, "Is it I?" Jesus' reply? "You will all fall away because of me this night" (Matthew 26:31).
What a lonely meal for Jesus, looking around the table, seeing their relaxed faces, hearing their laughter, knowing that in a few hours, they "will all fall away."
Song: "Do You Believe In Me?"
Communion
I've patterned this Holy Week around three questions. At Maundy Thursday Communion, I had those in attendance ask the same question the disciples did around the table that night: "Is it I, Lord?" Am I a betrayer?
Earlier this morning at the sunrise service I asked the question to those who attended, "Did Jesus really come back to life?". And if he did, what difference does it make?
And here at the table, during our Easter worship is the question I just sung: "Do you believe in me?" That is, do you believe in Jesus? Do you really?
There's been a lot made lately of the coca cola commercial, "Are you a fan?" A number of my Christian friends have been putting up posts on Facebook that say, "Don't be a fan; be a follower," in terms of your relationship with Jesus. Jesus doesn't need any fans. Jesus needs followers, people who are true believers in Jesus and who Jesus was, and what Jesus was about.
All three of the questions lead to this one. As you take the bread and the cup, dedicate yourself anew to Jesus Christ, not as a fan, but as a follower--a true believer.
(Words of the Institution: the joyful feast in the kingdom of God)
Gethsemane
I was told, before I left on my trip to Israel, that there would be sacred moments: experiences I would not be able to anticipate, brushes with the Holy and holiness. The Garden of Gethsemane was one of those for me.
We arrived at dusk and were given some time to walk among the ancient olive trees. Some of those trees were alive when Jesus walked through it, knelt in anguished prayer, sweat dripping from his brow like blood. Somewhere in there, three of the disciples slept instead of staying with Jesus in wakeful prayer.
I prayed in anguish as well. Nothing like Jesus. But part of my life was ending. And I didn't know how to pray about that, other than groan and wish that there was somebody with me who knew what to say to God.
I thought it odd that there were so many pray-ers at the Wailing Wall, but hardly any here, in the Garden. Only our little tour group and a handful of others.
This is the place where Jesus really wrestled with God and with himself. Here is where questions turned into resolve. Here is where the horns that could have sounded the retreat for Jesus, were not blown. But instead Jesus moved forward from here--ever forward to what was to come.
Golgotha
One of the traditional sites of the Crucifixion is now a huge cathedral. It's called The Church of the Holy Sepulcher. In one part of the cathedral is a huge, ornate altar. Candles all above the altar, constantly lit. Beneath the altar is a hole in the floor. The hole is bored into the rock below it (you can see the rock underneath on each side of the altar).
You can reach under the altar and put your hand in the hole. I've done it. It's the hole into which the cross of Christ was set. I had an eerie feeling putting my hand in that hole. There was a long line of people waiting to do the same. Millions have probably done the same, and will do so on into the future. I couldn't linger too long.
I remember standing up, looking up, looking around at all the elaborate finery of the place. All of it kind of cheapened the experience for me.
Because it wasn't like this at all, that day--the day of Jesus' Crucifixion. There would have been blood--lots of blood not just from being spiked to the cross through the wrist and ankles. But also from the brutal whipping Jesus received prior to the crucifixion that still would have been oozing blood.
There would have been no gilded candle holders back then. Just used crosses already caked with blood, and sweat and dirt from the previous wearers. The back drop was no ornate triptych, but a cloudy sky, getting darker and darker.
No matter how much you may try, you can't pretty up a crucifixion. You can't hang a bunch of golden candle orbs around. You can't surround it with icons and tapestry. It's an execution. Someone is dying a horrible, excruciating, humiliating death. That someone is Jesus. And the reason is you and I.
Written In Red
I say it again: The reason is you and I. One of my favorite quotes about what Jesus was about, and what his death was about, goes like this: "It wasn't the nails that held Jesus to the Cross, but his love for you and me."
To what lengths would you go to tell someone how much you love them? How could you show the depth of your love?
There's no greater love than this, Jesus said, than someone lay down their lives for another.
A bomb has been thrown into the world. That bomb is evil. Evil that disrupts and destroys everything and everyone. In an act of self-sacrifice and love, Jesus jumped on that bomb, and took the explosion on himself, saving us from its deadly consequences.
Self-sacrificial love, written in red, the ultimate expression of love--the love that held him to the cross.
The End of the Journey Is the Beginning
We started out on a journey. We have traveled from Jesus' birth to death. We have asked important questions along the way. Life defining kinds of questions. Questions you would ask yourself if you were really concerned about your relationship with The Lord. If you were trying to figure out what life is all about. If you want to live by faith.
LIFE. Full life. Life like a cup overflowing. Life like the laughter of those set free. Life like those who have made God their goal, as well as the way to get to that goal. Both the way and the destination.
LIFE. Life like a Resurrection. Life like coming back from the dead. Life like God smiling because of you. Life like you smiling because God is smiling because of you. There is no greater joy than that--than living that kind of life.
LIFE. And it's all yours, given you by Christ through his Resurrection. What God has done through Jesus Christ is all about Life, and being fully alive.
LIFE. All you have to do is believe. Throw yourself at the resurrected Christ, fall into his arms, and LIVE!
Easter Sunrise Service Message
Easter Sunrise Service--2014
This Sunrise service isn’t about coming out here to be in nature and watch the sunrise. This Sunrise service isn’t about celebrating the Springtime. This Sunrise service isn’t about tulips and daffodils and lilies and new blossoms and leaves on the tress. And this Sunrise service especially isn’t about bunnies and eggs and candy.
This Sunrise service is about Jesus rising from death. This service is an attempt to picture what it would be like to be the women who came to Jesus tomb, where they expected to see a dead corpse of a man, but instead found an empty tomb with burial cloth left as if Jesus evaporated right up through it. This service is about a dead man—Jesus—who came back to life and talked with at least one of the women who came to take care of the dead body.
That’s what we’re about this morning. A dead man who came back to life.
There’s at least two steps to our response to this story. First, is answering the question, “Do I believe it?” Do you believe it? Do you believe that a man, Jesus, who was fully dead, came fully alive? Not just awakened from a coma. Not just being dead for a few moments or minutes and resuscitated after seeing the bright light at the end of the tunnel. But dead, after three days of being dead, came to life. Do you believe that’s what happened to Jesus?
It's not a question of, Can anyone, after being dead come back to life? As far as we know, that hasn't happened. The question is about this one man, Jesus. Did Jesus come back to life after being thoroughly dead? Do you believe that?
The apostles, who had followed Jesus, believed it. In the book of Acts, every one of the apostles sermons recorded there have the Resurrection of Jesus as its main center point. There is no sermon recorded in Acts that does not build up to the high point of their preaching--Jesus' return to life after being dead.
But the further evidence is what clinches their belief in the Resurrection, in my mind. They were changed men and women after the Resurrection. They were transformed. They were bold. They were empowered. They were unafraid. Totally different from how they were prior to the Resurrection.
So what made the difference? The difference, in my mind, had to be the Resurrection. Jesus coming back to life and showing himself to the disciples. The apostles were thoroughly convinced.
They got to see Jesus after he had died and came back to life. But we've got to take their word for it. Of all the stories we're told, which raises the hairs of our skepticism, we have to absolutely decide if we can believe them--believe the apostles. That's all we have to go on, really. So we must absolutely make up our minds about Jesus coming back to life, the story the apostles told about Jesus coming back to life.
Jesus' coming back to life seems to make a difference. The Resurrection of Jesus changes things. The Resurrection of Jesus changes people. But Jesus' Resurrection doesn't change things, it doesn't change you, if you don't believe it happened. You could go on with your life as usual, disbelieving in the Resurrection.
The next step, after deciding you really believe Jesus came back to life, is pondering what that means. What that means for us, for the church, for the world, for you in particular. What difference does it make that Jesus came back to life?
If Jesus' coming back to life is only for securing our eternal life, I'm sorry, but that's not enough for me. I have no idea what eternal life will be like, or even what that means. Eternity is just too big of a concept for me. I'll worry about that, I guess, (if worry is even a part of eternity) when I get there.
I want to know about now. Does Jesus' coming back to life mean anything, or change anything for me now, will I'm finitely alive? The best answer to my question, I think, has been given by the writer of the book of Hebrews. He wrote:
Since the children are made of flesh and blood, it's logical that the Savior took on flesh and blood in order to rescue them by his death. By embracing death, taking it into himself, he destroyed the devil's hold on death and freed all who cower through life, scared to death of death. (Hebrews 2:14-16)
That got me. That reached me. That hit me where I lived. Jesus' death and Resurrection saves me from cowering through life. Jesus' Resurrection offers me, offers us, the chance to not be "scared to death of death." I don't know about you, but I don't want to live in a cowering kind of way. To cower has just as much to do with your attitude as it does your body. When someone is cowering, they are usually bent up, crouching, holding their arms and hands over themselves, in a position of dire self-protection. It's a position of living small.
I don't want to live that way. I don't want to live all bent over and huddled, muscles tight, because I'm always in fear of death.
Think of the opposite: living large, upright, unafraid, arms ready and open to embrace what comes, not protecting but welcoming. That's how I want to live. That's the Resurrection life.
I don't want to live deeply afraid. Especially deeply afraid of death. Think how our fear of death determines almost everything we do. Bucket lists. Mid-life crisis'. Retirement. Youthful, anti-aging products. And on and on.
We may not admit it, or acknowledge it, but that fear is constantly in the back of our minds, creating a shadow in our hearts. And the writer of Hebrews says that people who live according to the fear of death can do so "all their lives." That's a lot of life to waste.
I want to live deeply embracing life, enjoying life, being thankful and grateful about life. And I hope I've done that for all my life, especially lately. I haven't done so because I read the right self-help book. Or that I found some formula of happiness. Or because I'm taking some certain prescription.
The only way I can live outside of the power and fear of death, is by and because of Jesus Christ and his Resurrection. Jesus' Resurrection is about eternal life. But maybe more importantly, Jesus coming back to life, has more to do with embracing all the life that God has to offer right now, while we're alive. To not live cowering, but standing upright and ready. To not live afraid, but enjoying the life God has given me, grateful to him for life.
That's why believing the Resurrection really happened, and that the Resurrection is about giving us the chance to live unafraid is so important.
This Sunrise service isn’t about coming out here to be in nature and watch the sunrise. This Sunrise service isn’t about celebrating the Springtime. This Sunrise service isn’t about tulips and daffodils and lilies and new blossoms and leaves on the tress. And this Sunrise service especially isn’t about bunnies and eggs and candy.
This Sunrise service is about Jesus rising from death. This service is an attempt to picture what it would be like to be the women who came to Jesus tomb, where they expected to see a dead corpse of a man, but instead found an empty tomb with burial cloth left as if Jesus evaporated right up through it. This service is about a dead man—Jesus—who came back to life and talked with at least one of the women who came to take care of the dead body.
That’s what we’re about this morning. A dead man who came back to life.
There’s at least two steps to our response to this story. First, is answering the question, “Do I believe it?” Do you believe it? Do you believe that a man, Jesus, who was fully dead, came fully alive? Not just awakened from a coma. Not just being dead for a few moments or minutes and resuscitated after seeing the bright light at the end of the tunnel. But dead, after three days of being dead, came to life. Do you believe that’s what happened to Jesus?
It's not a question of, Can anyone, after being dead come back to life? As far as we know, that hasn't happened. The question is about this one man, Jesus. Did Jesus come back to life after being thoroughly dead? Do you believe that?
The apostles, who had followed Jesus, believed it. In the book of Acts, every one of the apostles sermons recorded there have the Resurrection of Jesus as its main center point. There is no sermon recorded in Acts that does not build up to the high point of their preaching--Jesus' return to life after being dead.
But the further evidence is what clinches their belief in the Resurrection, in my mind. They were changed men and women after the Resurrection. They were transformed. They were bold. They were empowered. They were unafraid. Totally different from how they were prior to the Resurrection.
So what made the difference? The difference, in my mind, had to be the Resurrection. Jesus coming back to life and showing himself to the disciples. The apostles were thoroughly convinced.
They got to see Jesus after he had died and came back to life. But we've got to take their word for it. Of all the stories we're told, which raises the hairs of our skepticism, we have to absolutely decide if we can believe them--believe the apostles. That's all we have to go on, really. So we must absolutely make up our minds about Jesus coming back to life, the story the apostles told about Jesus coming back to life.
Jesus' coming back to life seems to make a difference. The Resurrection of Jesus changes things. The Resurrection of Jesus changes people. But Jesus' Resurrection doesn't change things, it doesn't change you, if you don't believe it happened. You could go on with your life as usual, disbelieving in the Resurrection.
The next step, after deciding you really believe Jesus came back to life, is pondering what that means. What that means for us, for the church, for the world, for you in particular. What difference does it make that Jesus came back to life?
If Jesus' coming back to life is only for securing our eternal life, I'm sorry, but that's not enough for me. I have no idea what eternal life will be like, or even what that means. Eternity is just too big of a concept for me. I'll worry about that, I guess, (if worry is even a part of eternity) when I get there.
I want to know about now. Does Jesus' coming back to life mean anything, or change anything for me now, will I'm finitely alive? The best answer to my question, I think, has been given by the writer of the book of Hebrews. He wrote:
Since the children are made of flesh and blood, it's logical that the Savior took on flesh and blood in order to rescue them by his death. By embracing death, taking it into himself, he destroyed the devil's hold on death and freed all who cower through life, scared to death of death. (Hebrews 2:14-16)
That got me. That reached me. That hit me where I lived. Jesus' death and Resurrection saves me from cowering through life. Jesus' Resurrection offers me, offers us, the chance to not be "scared to death of death." I don't know about you, but I don't want to live in a cowering kind of way. To cower has just as much to do with your attitude as it does your body. When someone is cowering, they are usually bent up, crouching, holding their arms and hands over themselves, in a position of dire self-protection. It's a position of living small.
I don't want to live that way. I don't want to live all bent over and huddled, muscles tight, because I'm always in fear of death.
Think of the opposite: living large, upright, unafraid, arms ready and open to embrace what comes, not protecting but welcoming. That's how I want to live. That's the Resurrection life.
I don't want to live deeply afraid. Especially deeply afraid of death. Think how our fear of death determines almost everything we do. Bucket lists. Mid-life crisis'. Retirement. Youthful, anti-aging products. And on and on.
We may not admit it, or acknowledge it, but that fear is constantly in the back of our minds, creating a shadow in our hearts. And the writer of Hebrews says that people who live according to the fear of death can do so "all their lives." That's a lot of life to waste.
I want to live deeply embracing life, enjoying life, being thankful and grateful about life. And I hope I've done that for all my life, especially lately. I haven't done so because I read the right self-help book. Or that I found some formula of happiness. Or because I'm taking some certain prescription.
The only way I can live outside of the power and fear of death, is by and because of Jesus Christ and his Resurrection. Jesus' Resurrection is about eternal life. But maybe more importantly, Jesus coming back to life, has more to do with embracing all the life that God has to offer right now, while we're alive. To not live cowering, but standing upright and ready. To not live afraid, but enjoying the life God has given me, grateful to him for life.
That's why believing the Resurrection really happened, and that the Resurrection is about giving us the chance to live unafraid is so important.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Experiencing God: Through Circumstances
"Experiencing God Through Circumstances"
Psalm 25:3, 5, 21; James 5:7-11
So far this chapter, "experiencing God through circumstances" has been one of my favorites. Hopefully you will get a lot out of it, too.
One of the main themes is about not being in a hurry to understand what God is up to.
The purposes of God often develop slowly because His grand designs are never hurried. The great New England preacher Phillips Brooks was noted for his poise and quiet manner. At times, however, even he suffered moments of frustration and irritability. One day a friend saw him feverishly pacing the floor like a caged lion. "What's the trouble, Mr. Brooks?" he asked.
"The trouble is that I'm in a hurry, but God isn't!"
I think we look at time differently than God. We feel the fastness of times passing. I'm finding that especially true now that there is much less time ahead of me than behind me. My use of time has become all that much more important. Why wasn't the use of my time this important when I was younger?
I know the ticks of the clock are going no faster now than they did when I was young. But it seems like the hands of a clock are much more like the blades on a fan--I could cool myself by them, they are moving so fast.
Feeling now that time is much too short, I find myself more in a hurry to get a number of things done that I want to get done. I am less patient. I am more intolerant of waiting.
I don't know how God does it. Maybe God is outside of time, and is not affected by the sense of how fast time seems to pass for we mortals. I don't know, but God seems to be much more patient, seeing all of the long, long history that has unfolded out of the past, forever it would seem.
And there's the rub, as Phillips Brooks put his finger on it: "...I'm in a hurry, but God isn't."
So, as we live out our circumstances, whether it feels like they are flying by, or creeping at a slug's pace, we are still restless to find meaning in those circumstances. We want to know where they are leading, NOW! We want to know what they are going to mean for us, right now!
But if we push too much, we'll miss something. If we think the rose's beauty must have come to fruition with a closed bud and snip it from the bush, we will never see the opened flower and taste its fragrance. The rose bud is the good. The bloomed blossom is the best. Too often, in our haste for life, we sacrifice the best for the good.
If we had only waited. If we had only been more patient.
Even though Paul wrote to the Roman Christians that, "...we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good," (Romans 8:28), this promise doesn't say how long it will take God to work all that together. God may take days. Maybe years. We can be sure that all will come together for good by God. But how long? Thus waiting becomes one of the main characteristics of the Christian life. Waiting and patience takes us to the fulfillment of what God is up to.
Lisa Beamer reflects on the loss of her dad in her book, Let’s Roll.
Slowly I began to understand that the plans God has for us don’t just include ‘good things’, but the whole array of human events. The ‘prospering’ he talks about in the book of Jeremiah is often the outcome of a ‘bad’ event. I remember my mom saying that many people look for miracles--things that in their human minds ‘fix’ a difficult situation. Many miracles, however, are not a change to the normal course of human events; they’re found in God’s ability and desire to sustain and nurture people through even the worst situations. Somewhere along the way, I stopped demanding that God immediately fix the problems in my life and simply walk with me all the way through them.
But this waiting, this kind of patience, is not easy. Usually this kind of patiences has to do either with events in our lives, or people in our lives. When my patiences is being pushed with people, I try to imagine how patient God has been with me. Patience with people involves being hopeful about them, not giving up that hope, and not letting that hope turn into bitterness.
There is a part of the opposite of patience that has to do with anger. Patience is partly being slow to anger. It seems impatience leads to anger, since things aren't going as fast as we'd desire them to or in the direction we'd want them to go. All of that has to do the positioning of the self into the center, thinking that your self is more important than God's workings.
On the Andy Griffith Show episode "Man in a Hurry"- Malcolm Tucker is a wealthy businessman from Charlotte. One Sunday he happens to have car trouble a couple of miles outside of Mayberry. Malcolm walks the rest of the way to town and meets Andy coming out of Sunday morning worship.
Andy offers to assist Malcolm but warns that it is nearly impossible to get anything done on a Sunday in Mayberry. Malcolm begins to lose patience when Wally, the filling station owner, refuses to fix his car because it is his policy not to work on Sunday. Furthermore, Malcolm is dumbfounded when he learns that he can't even use the telephone because the elderly Mindelbright sisters use the party line to visit on Sunday afternoons, since they are unable to get around very well.
Back at the Taylor house, things don't get much better for Malcolm. He explodes into a tirade, screaming that the citizens of Mayberry are living in another world--that this is the twentieth century, and while the whole world is living in a desperate space age, the town of Mayberry shuts down because two old ladies' feet fall asleep.
Gomer informs Malcolm that his cousin Goober has offered to fix the car. Later, when Gomer returns with the car, Malcolm is surprised that there is no charge for the repair since it was just a clogged fuel line. Goober actually considered it an honor to work on such a fine machine.
As Mr. Tucker prepares to leave, he stops and contemplates the events of the afternoon as well as his return to the activities of his hectic life. Malcolm realizes that the very characteristics of Mayberry life that initially frustrated him so much are, in fact, the priorities he needs to establish in his own life. He decides to put his business on hold and stay the night in Mayberry.
We can all see ourselves in Malcolm Tucker. He learned something about himself, and about life, that he wouldn't have if he didn't wait, and found some other, quicker, way out of Mayberry. In our haste to get through our life experiences, especially the ones we have evaluated as negative ones, when things don't go our way, we explode! And who do we get angry at? Even though we don't name God, God is the one we are really angry with. God is supposed to "work all things together for good" and right now, dang it! What good is having a God, if that God doesn't do things like you want God to do them, and in the time frame you have determined is best?
Letting God be God, as God knows is best, in the time frame God has set out, is the faith work behind waiting and patience. It is the trust that God knows what's happening in our lives, and is at work.
Do the math. Think of just the people in Pratt. God is doing for all of them, what God is doing for you: "working all things together for good according to his purpose." Every circumstance, every person in Pratt is facing is being worked on by God. Now expand out to all the people in Kansas, the United States, the world. It totally blows every breaker in my mind to think of all that God is taking care of.
And if we wait, and we are patient, it will all turn out as God is working it out to be. But if our impatience, and eventually our impatient anger gets the best of us, we will not get the best that God has for us.
Waiting and being patient is tied to what true hope is. If hope focuses on the future, the patience in hope is what happens in the present moment. If we are hopeful for our future, the patience we have in the now will make the waiting easier. If there is no hope for the future, being patient now will quickly turn to futility, despair and anger.
It may be the hardest lesson of all to learn how to wait on God, how to wait when nothing seems to be happening, and when all the circumstances seem calculated to bring nothing but discouragement.
We have certainly seen this in Men's Bible Study, as we are following the life of Paul. Paul goes into city after city, preaching the gospel. But just about every where he goes, he gets beat up for it. Some times within inches of his life.
It would have been easy to just give in to despair, or give up on his calling and God. Not a whole lot of people would slight him for it. But he kept going, and wouldn't have known or seen the amazing work of God if he had quit. He wouldn't have been able to come to the end of his ministry and say, as he did to Timothy, "I have fought the good fight, I have run the race, and kept the faith."
And if it wasn't for Paul, we probably wouldn't be here, we Gentile believers. We owe our faith to him because he was patient, waited on God, and God saw him through.
Why would God not do the same for us, as we wait in patience to let all things work together, in God's time and way?
Psalm 25:3, 5, 21; James 5:7-11
So far this chapter, "experiencing God through circumstances" has been one of my favorites. Hopefully you will get a lot out of it, too.
One of the main themes is about not being in a hurry to understand what God is up to.
The purposes of God often develop slowly because His grand designs are never hurried. The great New England preacher Phillips Brooks was noted for his poise and quiet manner. At times, however, even he suffered moments of frustration and irritability. One day a friend saw him feverishly pacing the floor like a caged lion. "What's the trouble, Mr. Brooks?" he asked.
"The trouble is that I'm in a hurry, but God isn't!"
I think we look at time differently than God. We feel the fastness of times passing. I'm finding that especially true now that there is much less time ahead of me than behind me. My use of time has become all that much more important. Why wasn't the use of my time this important when I was younger?
I know the ticks of the clock are going no faster now than they did when I was young. But it seems like the hands of a clock are much more like the blades on a fan--I could cool myself by them, they are moving so fast.
Feeling now that time is much too short, I find myself more in a hurry to get a number of things done that I want to get done. I am less patient. I am more intolerant of waiting.
I don't know how God does it. Maybe God is outside of time, and is not affected by the sense of how fast time seems to pass for we mortals. I don't know, but God seems to be much more patient, seeing all of the long, long history that has unfolded out of the past, forever it would seem.
And there's the rub, as Phillips Brooks put his finger on it: "...I'm in a hurry, but God isn't."
So, as we live out our circumstances, whether it feels like they are flying by, or creeping at a slug's pace, we are still restless to find meaning in those circumstances. We want to know where they are leading, NOW! We want to know what they are going to mean for us, right now!
But if we push too much, we'll miss something. If we think the rose's beauty must have come to fruition with a closed bud and snip it from the bush, we will never see the opened flower and taste its fragrance. The rose bud is the good. The bloomed blossom is the best. Too often, in our haste for life, we sacrifice the best for the good.
If we had only waited. If we had only been more patient.
Even though Paul wrote to the Roman Christians that, "...we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good," (Romans 8:28), this promise doesn't say how long it will take God to work all that together. God may take days. Maybe years. We can be sure that all will come together for good by God. But how long? Thus waiting becomes one of the main characteristics of the Christian life. Waiting and patience takes us to the fulfillment of what God is up to.
Lisa Beamer reflects on the loss of her dad in her book, Let’s Roll.
Slowly I began to understand that the plans God has for us don’t just include ‘good things’, but the whole array of human events. The ‘prospering’ he talks about in the book of Jeremiah is often the outcome of a ‘bad’ event. I remember my mom saying that many people look for miracles--things that in their human minds ‘fix’ a difficult situation. Many miracles, however, are not a change to the normal course of human events; they’re found in God’s ability and desire to sustain and nurture people through even the worst situations. Somewhere along the way, I stopped demanding that God immediately fix the problems in my life and simply walk with me all the way through them.
But this waiting, this kind of patience, is not easy. Usually this kind of patiences has to do either with events in our lives, or people in our lives. When my patiences is being pushed with people, I try to imagine how patient God has been with me. Patience with people involves being hopeful about them, not giving up that hope, and not letting that hope turn into bitterness.
There is a part of the opposite of patience that has to do with anger. Patience is partly being slow to anger. It seems impatience leads to anger, since things aren't going as fast as we'd desire them to or in the direction we'd want them to go. All of that has to do the positioning of the self into the center, thinking that your self is more important than God's workings.
On the Andy Griffith Show episode "Man in a Hurry"- Malcolm Tucker is a wealthy businessman from Charlotte. One Sunday he happens to have car trouble a couple of miles outside of Mayberry. Malcolm walks the rest of the way to town and meets Andy coming out of Sunday morning worship.
Andy offers to assist Malcolm but warns that it is nearly impossible to get anything done on a Sunday in Mayberry. Malcolm begins to lose patience when Wally, the filling station owner, refuses to fix his car because it is his policy not to work on Sunday. Furthermore, Malcolm is dumbfounded when he learns that he can't even use the telephone because the elderly Mindelbright sisters use the party line to visit on Sunday afternoons, since they are unable to get around very well.
Back at the Taylor house, things don't get much better for Malcolm. He explodes into a tirade, screaming that the citizens of Mayberry are living in another world--that this is the twentieth century, and while the whole world is living in a desperate space age, the town of Mayberry shuts down because two old ladies' feet fall asleep.
Gomer informs Malcolm that his cousin Goober has offered to fix the car. Later, when Gomer returns with the car, Malcolm is surprised that there is no charge for the repair since it was just a clogged fuel line. Goober actually considered it an honor to work on such a fine machine.
As Mr. Tucker prepares to leave, he stops and contemplates the events of the afternoon as well as his return to the activities of his hectic life. Malcolm realizes that the very characteristics of Mayberry life that initially frustrated him so much are, in fact, the priorities he needs to establish in his own life. He decides to put his business on hold and stay the night in Mayberry.
We can all see ourselves in Malcolm Tucker. He learned something about himself, and about life, that he wouldn't have if he didn't wait, and found some other, quicker, way out of Mayberry. In our haste to get through our life experiences, especially the ones we have evaluated as negative ones, when things don't go our way, we explode! And who do we get angry at? Even though we don't name God, God is the one we are really angry with. God is supposed to "work all things together for good" and right now, dang it! What good is having a God, if that God doesn't do things like you want God to do them, and in the time frame you have determined is best?
Letting God be God, as God knows is best, in the time frame God has set out, is the faith work behind waiting and patience. It is the trust that God knows what's happening in our lives, and is at work.
Do the math. Think of just the people in Pratt. God is doing for all of them, what God is doing for you: "working all things together for good according to his purpose." Every circumstance, every person in Pratt is facing is being worked on by God. Now expand out to all the people in Kansas, the United States, the world. It totally blows every breaker in my mind to think of all that God is taking care of.
And if we wait, and we are patient, it will all turn out as God is working it out to be. But if our impatience, and eventually our impatient anger gets the best of us, we will not get the best that God has for us.
Waiting and being patient is tied to what true hope is. If hope focuses on the future, the patience in hope is what happens in the present moment. If we are hopeful for our future, the patience we have in the now will make the waiting easier. If there is no hope for the future, being patient now will quickly turn to futility, despair and anger.
It may be the hardest lesson of all to learn how to wait on God, how to wait when nothing seems to be happening, and when all the circumstances seem calculated to bring nothing but discouragement.
We have certainly seen this in Men's Bible Study, as we are following the life of Paul. Paul goes into city after city, preaching the gospel. But just about every where he goes, he gets beat up for it. Some times within inches of his life.
It would have been easy to just give in to despair, or give up on his calling and God. Not a whole lot of people would slight him for it. But he kept going, and wouldn't have known or seen the amazing work of God if he had quit. He wouldn't have been able to come to the end of his ministry and say, as he did to Timothy, "I have fought the good fight, I have run the race, and kept the faith."
And if it wasn't for Paul, we probably wouldn't be here, we Gentile believers. We owe our faith to him because he was patient, waited on God, and God saw him through.
Why would God not do the same for us, as we wait in patience to let all things work together, in God's time and way?
Monday, April 7, 2014
Experiencing God Through Prayer
"Experiencing God Through Prayer"
Psalm 5:1-3
Prayer is this great mystery to many people. It's a great mystery, because God is surrounded by mystery. We don't know how to approach God, because we don't know what God is all about. If we don't know what God is all about, then certainly prayer has got to be an enigma.
In the cartoon, "The Family Circus," the older brother is holding a flattened football. "I need a new football," he said. "But I don't know if I should send up a prayer, write a letter to Santa Claus, or call Grandma."
It is difficult to talk with someone whom you're not sure what they're about. People do all kinds of things to make God more approachable. In one of her newest books--a book about prayer titled, Help, Thanks, Wow, one of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, wrote, "My friend Robyn calls God 'the Grandmothers"...I called God Phil for a long time, after a bracelet maker promised to engrave 'Phil 4:4-7' on my bracelet, Philippians 4:4-7 being my favorite passage of Scripture, but he got only as far a 'Phil' before having to dismantle his booth. Phil is a great name for God" (page 2).
The author, Clarence Day, wrote in his book, Life With Father, "Father expected a good deal of God. He didn't actually accuse God of inefficiency, but when he prayed his tone was lucid and angry, like that of a dissatisfied guest in a carelessly managed hotel."
Even though people aren't sure about the One they are addressing in prayer, or understand what prayer is, it doesn't keep people from praying. A recent Gallup survey found 90 percent of Americans pray. 75 percent of those pray every day. A majority say that they pray more than they did just a few years ago.
It seems that a high majority of people know that in order to develop a relationship with God, we need to pray. We cannot develop our relationship with God any other way, better.
And here comes my bold claim: In order to pray, to understand prayer best, to develop our relationship with God through prayer, we need the Psalms. If we wish to develop a life of faith, to mature in our humanity, and glorify God, we will need to pray. And we won't know how to pray without the Psalms. We cannot bypass the Psalms.
In order to learn to pray, we need a prayer master. The Psalms are just such a prayer master. We must be an apprentice to the prayer master of the Psalms. Eugene Peterson wrote, in his book, Answering God: "If we are willfully ignorant of the Psalms, we are not thereby excluded from praying, but we will have to hack our way through formidable country by trial and error and with inferior tools." (page 4)
One of the reasons we need the Psalms to teach us about prayer is because most of the time our prayers are full of ego where we try to get ourselves some credit with God.
Like the hunter, who was out hunting bears. As he stalked through the forest looking for bears, he started climbing a steep hill. As he was pulling himself up over the last outcropping of rocks a huge bear stood up in front of him, nose to nose.
The bear roared fiercely. The man was so scared, he screamed and lost his balance rolling down the hill with the bear close after him. When he finally stopped tumbling, he had a broken leg. Escape was impossible. So the man, who had never been particularly religious, prayed, "Dear God, if you will make this bear a Christian I will be happy with whatever you want me to do for the rest of my life."
The bear was just a couple of feet away from the man. But suddenly it stopped in it's tracks, looked up to heaven, fell to its knees and prayed, "Lord, bless this food of which I am about to partake. Amen."
Prayer becomes, all too quickly, a bargaining process, where we quickly try to get God in our debt. Prayer doesn't work that way, neither does God.
The last thing we seem to want to do is be "honest-to-God". We can't even be honest with ourselves, let alone God. The Psalm masters show us the way of this honesty before God. God catches us in sin, finds us in despair, invades us by grace.
This ego, this ego-defensiveness, this wheeling and dealing with God must be wrestled to obedience, and brought face-to-face with the God who reveals himself to us. In order to do this hard work through prayer, we need a master who has done this work before us. That master is the Psalms.
Another vital thing we learn from the Psalms is not only how to express ourselves in prayer, but more importantly, we learn how to answer God. The Psalms show us how to answer. That's the first lesson of the Psalms: God speaks to us first, and prayer is basically our response.
The Psalms are poetry and the Psalms are prayer. Poetry is not decorative speech. It is language used with personal intensity. Poetry isn't cosmetic language--it's intestinal. It's from the gut. It's earthy and basic.
Thus, when we use the Psalms for prayer we won't be looking for ideas about God. Instead, what the Psalms teach us is that prayer is the experience of being human before God. We will be exposed. But then we will be transformed. That is not easy.
Our answering prayers to God are not always positive. There is anger, there is skepticism, there is even cursing and fist shaking. But the Psalms are honest feeling, honest response to our God who first reveals himself to us and speaks to us.
Our habits tend toward talking about God, not to God. We love discussing God. But the Psalms resist that kind of discussion. The Psalms aren't to be learned and discussed. They are primarily to be prayed and to teach us about prayer.
The poetry part of the Psalms demand that we deal with our actual humanity. The prayer part of the Psalms requires that we deal with God. This dual work of the Psalms is for the sole purpose of the total renovation of our lives.
It is vitally important to understand the two sides of the coin in praying the Psalms: our humanity and God. If we try one without the other in prayer, we will get lost and no transformation will happen.
For example, if we come to the Psalms for prayer, thinking the Psalms are just a way to develop our inner life, we've come to the wrong place. Kahil Gibran would be a better bet for that. The Psalms are not interested in human potential. They are passionate about God: a God who is obedience-shaping, will-transforming, sin-revoking, and praise-releasing.
Or, if the Psalms were just about God, they would be nothing more than a religious bull session. The Psalms would become a bunch of theological pontificating with no human angst and passion to connect with the theology.
The Psalms, in leading us into praying, bring the human condition into the presence of God.
Now here's the thing. In praying the Psalms, we don't first learn how to do it, like taking a class. We simply do it. In the doing we find out what we are doing. In the constant doing we deepen and mature in our praying, in our humanity, and in our relationship with God.
Prayer is a human being conversing with a holy and great God--which is a mystery. The Psalms help us cross the gulf of that mystery. And the only way we can do that is by doing it.
So, that's what we're going to do for a few minutes. Pray the Psalms.
Psalm 13
Psalm 51
Psalm 5:1-3
Prayer is this great mystery to many people. It's a great mystery, because God is surrounded by mystery. We don't know how to approach God, because we don't know what God is all about. If we don't know what God is all about, then certainly prayer has got to be an enigma.
In the cartoon, "The Family Circus," the older brother is holding a flattened football. "I need a new football," he said. "But I don't know if I should send up a prayer, write a letter to Santa Claus, or call Grandma."
It is difficult to talk with someone whom you're not sure what they're about. People do all kinds of things to make God more approachable. In one of her newest books--a book about prayer titled, Help, Thanks, Wow, one of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, wrote, "My friend Robyn calls God 'the Grandmothers"...I called God Phil for a long time, after a bracelet maker promised to engrave 'Phil 4:4-7' on my bracelet, Philippians 4:4-7 being my favorite passage of Scripture, but he got only as far a 'Phil' before having to dismantle his booth. Phil is a great name for God" (page 2).
The author, Clarence Day, wrote in his book, Life With Father, "Father expected a good deal of God. He didn't actually accuse God of inefficiency, but when he prayed his tone was lucid and angry, like that of a dissatisfied guest in a carelessly managed hotel."
Even though people aren't sure about the One they are addressing in prayer, or understand what prayer is, it doesn't keep people from praying. A recent Gallup survey found 90 percent of Americans pray. 75 percent of those pray every day. A majority say that they pray more than they did just a few years ago.
It seems that a high majority of people know that in order to develop a relationship with God, we need to pray. We cannot develop our relationship with God any other way, better.
And here comes my bold claim: In order to pray, to understand prayer best, to develop our relationship with God through prayer, we need the Psalms. If we wish to develop a life of faith, to mature in our humanity, and glorify God, we will need to pray. And we won't know how to pray without the Psalms. We cannot bypass the Psalms.
In order to learn to pray, we need a prayer master. The Psalms are just such a prayer master. We must be an apprentice to the prayer master of the Psalms. Eugene Peterson wrote, in his book, Answering God: "If we are willfully ignorant of the Psalms, we are not thereby excluded from praying, but we will have to hack our way through formidable country by trial and error and with inferior tools." (page 4)
One of the reasons we need the Psalms to teach us about prayer is because most of the time our prayers are full of ego where we try to get ourselves some credit with God.
Like the hunter, who was out hunting bears. As he stalked through the forest looking for bears, he started climbing a steep hill. As he was pulling himself up over the last outcropping of rocks a huge bear stood up in front of him, nose to nose.
The bear roared fiercely. The man was so scared, he screamed and lost his balance rolling down the hill with the bear close after him. When he finally stopped tumbling, he had a broken leg. Escape was impossible. So the man, who had never been particularly religious, prayed, "Dear God, if you will make this bear a Christian I will be happy with whatever you want me to do for the rest of my life."
The bear was just a couple of feet away from the man. But suddenly it stopped in it's tracks, looked up to heaven, fell to its knees and prayed, "Lord, bless this food of which I am about to partake. Amen."
Prayer becomes, all too quickly, a bargaining process, where we quickly try to get God in our debt. Prayer doesn't work that way, neither does God.
The last thing we seem to want to do is be "honest-to-God". We can't even be honest with ourselves, let alone God. The Psalm masters show us the way of this honesty before God. God catches us in sin, finds us in despair, invades us by grace.
This ego, this ego-defensiveness, this wheeling and dealing with God must be wrestled to obedience, and brought face-to-face with the God who reveals himself to us. In order to do this hard work through prayer, we need a master who has done this work before us. That master is the Psalms.
Another vital thing we learn from the Psalms is not only how to express ourselves in prayer, but more importantly, we learn how to answer God. The Psalms show us how to answer. That's the first lesson of the Psalms: God speaks to us first, and prayer is basically our response.
The Psalms are poetry and the Psalms are prayer. Poetry is not decorative speech. It is language used with personal intensity. Poetry isn't cosmetic language--it's intestinal. It's from the gut. It's earthy and basic.
Thus, when we use the Psalms for prayer we won't be looking for ideas about God. Instead, what the Psalms teach us is that prayer is the experience of being human before God. We will be exposed. But then we will be transformed. That is not easy.
Our answering prayers to God are not always positive. There is anger, there is skepticism, there is even cursing and fist shaking. But the Psalms are honest feeling, honest response to our God who first reveals himself to us and speaks to us.
Our habits tend toward talking about God, not to God. We love discussing God. But the Psalms resist that kind of discussion. The Psalms aren't to be learned and discussed. They are primarily to be prayed and to teach us about prayer.
The poetry part of the Psalms demand that we deal with our actual humanity. The prayer part of the Psalms requires that we deal with God. This dual work of the Psalms is for the sole purpose of the total renovation of our lives.
It is vitally important to understand the two sides of the coin in praying the Psalms: our humanity and God. If we try one without the other in prayer, we will get lost and no transformation will happen.
For example, if we come to the Psalms for prayer, thinking the Psalms are just a way to develop our inner life, we've come to the wrong place. Kahil Gibran would be a better bet for that. The Psalms are not interested in human potential. They are passionate about God: a God who is obedience-shaping, will-transforming, sin-revoking, and praise-releasing.
Or, if the Psalms were just about God, they would be nothing more than a religious bull session. The Psalms would become a bunch of theological pontificating with no human angst and passion to connect with the theology.
The Psalms, in leading us into praying, bring the human condition into the presence of God.
Now here's the thing. In praying the Psalms, we don't first learn how to do it, like taking a class. We simply do it. In the doing we find out what we are doing. In the constant doing we deepen and mature in our praying, in our humanity, and in our relationship with God.
Prayer is a human being conversing with a holy and great God--which is a mystery. The Psalms help us cross the gulf of that mystery. And the only way we can do that is by doing it.
So, that's what we're going to do for a few minutes. Pray the Psalms.
Psalm 13
Psalm 51
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