Justice For Me And Thee... But Mostly For Me.

Justice.

How we all long for it. Especially me. Especially for me.

As I watch my kids, I am struck by this same attitude. It reeks. It's putrid. The love of self which sees no other. It poisons their interactions. It breaks my heart.

I watch a child of mine who is deeply troubled by the loss of a few dollars spent toward meeting the needs of the homeless. Will it hinder the odds of getting that desired new video game for Christmas?

I see this sort of self-centered fixation played out over and over. All I have to do is watch my kids each day. And what troubles me most is that these behaviors are just less refined versions of things taking place in my own heart. And God is watching me.

I've been robbed of a few things in life. For a man whose wealth is not measured in millions, I've lost a surprising amount of money to unscrupulous men. I spend a lot of time working on forgiving them. A lot of time. I just cannot seem to let go of what they did to me. Will God bring justice? Will these men pay for their misdeeds?

But statistically speaking, I am one of the richest, most blessed, comfortable men in the world. The earthly injustices I have endured have yet to really deprive me of a single basic needs.

I eat healthy meals whenever I want. Exquisitely tasty.

I get health care when I am sick. The doctor is competent.

I sleep about 8 hours a night. In a warm bed.

I work no more than 10 hrs a day. Sitting relaxed in front of a computer screen, with soft fingers.

Others are not so lucky. Need I recite the litany of evils around the globe? No. But I cannot help but name a few anyway...

A life marked by malnutrition or death by starvation? Ethiopia.

A life marked by 16 hour days of exhausting work? South-East Asia. Africa.

A life of oppression? North Korea.

A life of sexual abuse? India. Thailand.

Jeremiah 21:12
This is what the LORD says to you, house of David:
“‘Administer justice every morning;
rescue from the hand of the oppressor
the one who has been robbed,
or my wrath will break out and burn like fire
because of the evil you have done—
burn with no one to quench it.

What evil would it be that God is referring to in the above verse?

For some, to be sure, the evil would be things they do to others.

For many others, however, the evil God will not forget is that we did nothing to stop it.

Justice? Yes, I want justice. But why is it my heart is not concerned for those who need it most?

Lord, grant me a heart that aches for justice. Justice for others.

A Taste Of Heaven

"I'm getting a taste of heaven!" That's what I thought to myself last night.

I had returned to a place I'd once known. A place where a number of people loved me. A place also where certain people had scorned me and disliked me. Rejected me. Mistreated me.

It was extremely awkward to return to that place, but circumstances were such that it was the right thing to do. So I came.

Those who still harbored ill will? They were around. But they stayed away.

Those who loved me? They came as if like moths to the flame. They showered love on me, rejoiced that I had returned, and I in turn rejoiced to see them and exchange affection with them. it was a night full of delighted faces and warm hugs.

"I'm getting a taste of heaven!" It was a sudden realization that burst into my thoughts about 20 minutes into the experience. Then, a little bit before the evening was over, someone else said it to me, though I had not said the words out loud to anyone at all.

"It's like a taste of heaven!" she exclaimed.

You took the words out of my mouth, my friend. Indeed, you took them out of my head!

And what a taste it was. For those things and people that hurt us will not follow us into the Kingdom of God. But all that is good and right — those who love the Lord — we will rejoice together in his presence with a fullness of joy that cannot be imagined now.

But we can occasionally get a taste.

To Mock Is Divine

To Mock Is Divine?

Well... here's what I mean. I just did a cursory search. The Bible is a big book, but the word "mock" isn't used in it terribly often. And even where this word does appear, it's rarely God who is doing the mocking.

God doesn't mock much. In fact, depending upon the translation used, God hardly mocks at all.

But God does mock certain individuals. What sorts of individuals?

Mockers.

Proverbs 3:34
He mocks proud mockers
but shows favor to the humble and oppressed.

Thus my tongue-in-cheek header: "To mock is divine." But humor aside, it's more clearly stated in the negative: "If you're not divine, don't mock." (Corollary: "But if you do, you can be sure God will return you the favor...") God can mock if he wants to. The rest of us are on awfully shaky ground when we presume to do the same.

So what got me on this topic? Watching my kids mock a movie series. They mocked its weakness every which way. Poor acting here. Poor acting there. Poor directing. It wasn't a pleasant thing to endure. But what made it most unpleasant of all was the inescapable fact that they had learned to mock these movies... from me. They mimicked my scorn. Copied my very words and mannerisms. I was watching a virtual instant replay of my own acts of mockery.

It was ugly. And I'm not just saying that. It turned my stomach to hear my own words come from a child's lips.

I want my kids to stop mocking. I do intend to speak with them about the matter. I want to reform their behavior. But before I do, I need to reform my own behavior.

God doesn't like it when I mock. Having watched my kids mimic my own words and attitudes, I can see why. It's ugly because scorn is heaped on the frailties and imperfections of others made in the image of God.

Somebody made those films. If they were in the room to watch my kids rip them up, I'd have wanted to crawl under the carpet. But God was in that room, and God loves the director of those films. God loves the actors who appear in them.

Do I have to call sweet all things that are sour? Absolutely not. But the option of silence is always there for me. How often I decline it.

Proverbs 3:34
He mocks proud mockers
but shows favor to the humble and oppressed.

It's hard to mock when you're silent. It's easy to be silent, however, when you're humble. No wonder silence and solitude are considered powerful disciplines among not only monks but among all who seek spiritual maturity! What better a cure for the habit of mocking than the practice of silence?

Psalm 1:1-3
Blessed is the one
who does not walk in step with the wicked
or stand in the way that sinners take
or sit in the company of mockers...
but whose delight is in the law of the LORD,
and who meditates on his law day and night.
That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither—
whatever they do prospers.

In Jesus' Name

I goofed again a few days ago. Wrote an email I shouldn't have written.

A call was in order. Not the angry email I sent.

Thankfully, the person receiving my unvarnished thoughts is a very close and very good friend. He was gracious — and we worked things out quite well. All ended well.

During the conversation, however, he dropped a gem out that I know I won't soon forget.

"When I'm writing an email," he commented, "I imagine putting the words In Jesus' Name at the bottom. If I cannot or do not want to include those words at the bottom, it's probably an email I should never have written."

How simple is that? And how many unnnecessary (or worse) emails could I have spared the world from if I had followed this advice?

A simple thought for a simple blog.

And to these words I do not mind signing off...

In Jesus' name.

Gary's Corollary

Gary's Corollary... It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

One of the few chapel messages I still remember from my college days was delivered by a man named Gary Ginter.

I think one of the reasons I reserved some space in my brain to remember that name was the fact that I wanted to "do what he does" when I got out of college. Somehow it's never hard to remember the name of the pretty girl you want to date or the name of the man you'd like to work for. I left college dateless and jobless, however, so my zeal in this regard reaped no short-term benefits.

Seeing as twenty years have now passed and seeing as I am now both happily married and gainfully employed, perhaps it is time to for me to forget Gary's name? Along with the name of a few loves lost? Have you ever tried hard to forget a name you've already committed to memory? Ah well. But I digress.

I took one thought away from Gary's chapel talk that day. In it he suggested a simple strategy for those crossroad moments when we are forced to choose between several equally good (or bad) options.

So you've prayed.

So you've pondered.

And you still don't know just what to do.

There are good reasons to go either way.

What to do?

Gary suggested this: Go with the alternative which requires more faith.

To my mind his suggestion immediately sounded just counter-intuitive to have that ring of authenticity and truth. Occasionally it has helped me to make a decision. Gary's Dictum has stayed with me.

I usually applied Gary's Dictum to decisions which largely impacted me alone. "What is God's will for my life?" kinds of questions. I don't recall whether Gary implied any such restrictions, but that's how worked out in my head in any case.

I am struck, as I write this, by an important aside. I know today (through painful hindsight) that many truly important decisions are best approached in community. Holy Spirit guidance can be a dangerous thing when in isolation I decide what He is saying. But that digression I'll resist for the purposes of this little blog, before it ceases to be little.

But back to Gary's Dictum. A week or two ago I suddenly stumbled upon a corollary to it. I was facing another one of those famous "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situations. As is typically the case, it involved someone else. Conflict. Interpersonal stuff. What to do...

I could respond in fashion A — and it would be good because of X... but bad because of Y.

Or I could respond with B — and that approach would be good because of P... but bad because of Q.

Usually for me, these conundrums have to do with the old Truth vs Love tug-of-war.

Do I speak Love? (And disregard Truth problems in their life?)

Or do I speak Truth? (And in doing so not seem to Love them much?)

What to do.

And in the midst of another one of those moments of indecision, Gary's Dictum rose up from the mist of my mind.

Or should I say Gary's Corollary?

It goes like this: When it's a toss-up... when in doubt... respond in a manner that requires more of the good character trait you possess less of.

That means (for me) that I have to Love them.

I know others who struggle not with Love, but with Truth. For them Gary's Corollary may require a bit of "tough love". Not so for me. In toss-up situations, I must opt for Love.

Thanks to Gary's Corollary, a decision I agonized over for weeks has suddenly become rather simple. Love and Grace must be extended to Snape. Easier said than done? In a Gary's Dictum sort of way, I consider that an encouraging sign.

As is often the case with good insights, once discovered they prove useful elsewhere too. I was in the city a few days ago and drove by a beggar looking for a handout. Did I give him some money? No... but by the time I drove by him, Gary's Corollary had hit me over the head like a two-by-four.

For several decades I have struggled with the beggar's dilemma.

Put money in the cup? (But they will likely drink it away! But...)

Don't put money in the cup? (But God calls us to remember the poor!)

Today I have my answer. For me, Gary's Corollary says I need to put money in the cup more often. And look the beggar in the eye.

Thank you, Gary.

Forgiving Snape

I had a strange dream last night, and I know it can be attributed to my fertile thoughts. But I also believe God spoke to me last night through it.

It is a rare, rare, rare, rare day (night?) when I dream that I am, quite literally, someone else. That is what happened last night. And how fitting, how richly fitting, that I should dream that I was Harry Potter!

For those who know the books well enough, the irony is probably clear. Harry had a habit of dreaming he was someone else — Lord Voldemort. The other fifteen people in this world who haven't seen the movies or read the books will likely find this blog a waste of precious time. (Always a pretty high risk with my blog in any case...)

Dreams are funny things... I know that I was Harry Potter in my dream not because I thought to myself (during the dream), "I'm Harry Potter!" but rather because of who I interacted with and what happened.

I was interacting with Snape. And he hated me. And I hated him.

But what's moving to me about that dream is that something in me caused me to couch my woundedness (hatred is usually a response to hurt) in something less than scathing terms. My words betrayed a hint of weakness and brokenness.... And Snape heard them. He heard something in my tone of voice. And he, in his turn, responded with a hint of acknowledgement that he might have mistreated me. Chinks of light.

And peace was made.

Here's where things get funny again (or maybe just bizarre)... As rapproachment was made, it was made first by words, and then by touch. And after the touch was made with Snape on my left, I turned to the man on my right — who had bleach-blonde hair. Yes, it was Lucius Malfoy.

Ha! What a riot of a dream!

But in any case, I put my hand on his back in a friendly gesture and said, "See, I am not always harsh!" And instantly, the man who had, moments before, been Lucius Malfoy, as sure as the day is long... became a different man. (Potter fans, I must apologize... he didn't become anyone recognizable to me from the Harry Potter series... In fact, the man wasn't even someone I know from real life.)

But he was a gentle and kind man. Lucius Malfoy became a saint. Before my eyes. At the touch of my hand.

And then, as if touch had not already taken significance in this dream, Snape led me by the hand to another room where he gave me a gift of food. In a true-to-life way, there was a point where it was awkward to hold hands as he led me through a doorway. I held on. I didn't want to let go of his hand. I knew the connection was important.

Well, needless to say, this dream has moving implications for me. I won't claim it as a vision from God, but I will say this: I believe God has used it to remind me that it is my calling to dream of the impossible. Forgiving Snape.

There are some Snapes in my life. There are real reasons for this dream to have arrived in my subconscious mind on the night it did. I suspect we all have a Snape or two somewhere. Three? Will I forgive mine? The unwinding of hurts hangs in the balance.

What would the world be like if we were to, each and every one of us, forgive Snape? To touch the untouchable. To love the unlovable. We'll have to be vulnerable. That's the first step. Is it worth the risk?

We won't know exactly what would happen until we try. But I have pretty darned good idea it would be beautiful. I am reminded of Isaiah's vision of God's future kingdom...

Isaiah 11:6
The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearling together;
and a little child will lead them.

By hand, I suspect...

What's Mine Is Yours — And Thankfully So

The worries of life were circling in for the kill this morning, so I went to read the 23rd Psalm for a bit of soul solace. The 23rd Psalm is at heart the joyful song of a person who knows that they are safe in the care of a perfect guardian. The Lord is my shepherd... Does life get better than this? I don't think so. These are comforting words for a troubled soul.

But as I finished reading Psalm 23, my eyes fell upon the opening verse of Psalm 24.

Psalm 24:1
The earth is the Lord's, and everything in it,
the world, and all who live in it...

The more I stared at this opening verse, the more it seemed to me that in order to live in the peace of the 23rd Psalm I must first make my peace with this first verse of the 24th Psalm.

The picture is clear enough when I consider my own home. My wife and I own both it and all the children who live in it — an echo of Psalm 24:1.

Our children are well cared for. Each child eats three meals a day and sleeps each night in a warm bed. We keep them healthy. We try to shower them with regular expressions of love — An echo of Psalm 23.

Do my kids feel like they're living a Psalm 23 existence? Mmmmm... Sometimes. Maybe. But on a regular basis the answer is No. My kids cannot help but worry and fret...

About stuff they want...
About stuff they broke...
About stuff a sibling took...
About stuff a sibling broke...
About what a sibling said...
About what a sibling did...

I occasionally point out to my fractious children that when push comes to shove — perhaps especially then! — everything in the house belongs to me and to Mom. "What's mine is mine," I remind them, "and what's yours is mine, too." They don't like to hear that. And they continue to fight over a pile of petty and cheap plastic that they do not, in the end, even own.

I repeatedly remind the kids that it's my job to worry about the shortcomings of their siblings. Parenting is hard enough without their "help", so I ask them to leave that job to me. They don't like to hear that. And they "help" me anyway.

But if only they would hear me. And take me at my word. Such freedom! A Psalm 23 existence awaits them! Yes, it's all so obvious to me when I think about my kids.

But then God speaks to me. "Pilgrim," he gently whispers, "you haven't been trusting me any more than your children trust you."

And, annoyingly, God is right.

Nothing I "own" adds up to anything. Not in God's economy. He created the universe. Why exactly do I worry about what few small things God does or does not entrust to my care? But I do.

God intimately knows, loves, and deals with seven billion people. He doesn't need my flawed and ham-fisted help. But I give it to him anyway. I have advice for God on how to fix a few people I happen to know. Sometimes, when it seems God is not moving fast enough, I try to fix them on his behalf.

Yes, I'm just like my kids. I think I can imagine what God is saying...

There's nothing you can do to put my house in jeopardy.
There's nothing anyone else can do to put my house in jeopardy.
There's nothing you have this not really mine.
There's nothing you have lost that is not still mine.

"Remain mine," God whispers, "and there's nothing and no one in the universe that can keep me from blessing you. I'll take care of you. Don't worry about stuff. Don't worry about the others. They are my concern."

I would wish that kind of peace for my children.

God wishes it for me.

Psalm 23 doesn't have a whole lot to say about stuff and people. It's almost entirely about God, our good shepherd, and the joys of simply living with Him. Its carefree attitude about "the world, and all who live in it" is precisely why the 23rd Psalm exudes such a pervasive attitude of peace and quiet joy.

The pastures of Psalm 23 await me. Am I willing to pass under the gates of Psalm 24:1 to enter in?

Psalm 24:1
The earth is the Lord's, and everything in it,
the world, and all who live in it...

Psalm 23:6
Surely goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
forever.

Peace In The Storm

Luke 8:22-25
One day Jesus said to his disciples, "Let's go over to the other side of the lake." So they got into a boat and set out. As they sailed, he fell asleep. A squall came down on the lake, so that the boat was being swamped, and they were in great danger.

The disciples went and woke him, saying, "Master, Master, we're going to drown!"

He got up and rebuked the wind and the raging waters; the storm subsided, and all was calm. "Where is your faith?" he asked his disciples.

In fear and amazement they asked one another, "Who is this? He commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him."

You slept, Lord Jesus, in the middle of a storm that was enough to make seasoned sailors tremble.

Grant unto me, Oh Lord, two things: Peace to sleep in any storm, and wisdom to trust most of all in you to guide my boat to safety.

Even when the boat is sinking.

Thick-Headed Disciples

Luke 9:43b-44
While everyone was marveling at all that Jesus did, he said to his disciples, "Listen carefully to what I am about to tell you: The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into the hands of men."

Why did Jesus beg them to listen carefully? Aren't the words pretty straight-forward? Well, Yes and No.

Yes, the meaning is obvious to us today. We know Jesus went on to die on a cross.

No, the meaning was not obvious to the disciples. And Jesus knew it, so he warned them to listen carefully. Not that it made a difference...

Luke 9:45
But they did not understand what this meant. It was hidden from them, so that they did not grasp it, and they were afraid to ask him about it.

The disciples didn't know a cross awaited Jesus. But it's more than that. At this point in the story, they didn't see how a cross even could await him. He was their long-awaited Messiah -- a conqueror. Their worldview didn't have room for a crucified Christ, so they were predisposed to ignore Jesus whenever he (regularly) tried to forewarn them of what lay ahead.

Luke 9:46
An argument started among the disciples as to which of them would be the greatest.

Unbelievable. Jesus is warning his disciples that dark and evil days lie in his near future — and their response is to jostle for position in anticipation of the day he takes over the world.

We mock the disciples for not listening to Jesus. Silly men! He told them that a cross awaited him. Silly men.

But before we get too carried away with our derision, let's return once more to Jesus and see his response.

Luke 9:47-48
Jesus, knowing their thoughts, took a little child and had him stand beside him. Then he said to them, "Whoever welcomes this little child in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. For he who is least among you all — he is the greatest."

Question. Have we listened to Jesus any better? Does our worldview have room for these words?

The fact is, in this and other passages Jesus clearly states that his followers will take up crosses of their own. We as Christians long ago made our peace with the cross of Christ. But have we made our peace with our crosses?

I know I haven't. Not really. Not entirely. I remember what Jesus said, but like the disciples what I do and say suggests that I never got the memo. Why is that?

Because, as was the case for the disciples, so it is for me. The truth of these words is still largely hidden from me. Not completely, to be sure, but enough so that it's hard to live as if I believe them.

But there's something else I share in common with those disciples. Along with them I am more than a little afraid to ask Jesus for clarification on the topic of crosses. I too am afraid of what he might say.

Thick-headed disciples.

Jesus had twelve of them 2,000 years ago.

And with me that makes thirteen.

Celebrating Deliverance Before It Happens

Jonah 2:1
From inside the fish Jonah prayed to the LORD his God.

Thus began my scripture reading for yesterday, and as I reflected on it I was reminded again of the fact that Jonah's song of praise erupts from his lips before his deliverance is complete. His song of deliverance comes from within the belly of a fish.

It was a timely reminder, because later that afternoon my FTB came back with a vengeance. FTB stands for financial tar baby. It's the name I've given a financial asset I nearly cannot give away. I never meant to come into possession of it. Yesterday morning I had it swinging loosely off of one fingernail. One more shake and I'd be free of it forever... But no. Today my FTB is firmly attached to both my hands again... perhaps even my torso.

In the end, I am confident God is not terribly worked up about this financial woe of mine. But God does have a stake in the matter. I know he wants he wants me to do what I do for His glory... and to, like Jonah, praise him from the belly of a stinking fish. In short, God cares about me.

Parenthetically, it's fun to note that God's concern is not limited to people. Jonah 4:10-11 notes that God cares about animals and even, it might be argued, the fate of a single plant. But I digress.

Jonah had reason to praise God from within the fish's belly. Short of the fish that swallowed him, he'd have drowned. But Jonah also cause for concern. I can think of a few things to worry about from within the belly of a fish. How long will the air sustain me? How long before I get digested? How long before the fish retches me back into the ocean and I drown for the last time?

So Jonah has a choice. He can celebrate his deliverance from drowning... or lament his current state of affairs.

The entire book of Jonah is an ongoing story of God's mercy and love, almost all of which Jonah doesn't get one bit. Not one bit. Jonah is extremely thick and stupid where God's mercy is concerned. But for a brief moment in chapter 2, Jonah rejoices in a moment of clarity. He understands that God has been merciful to him.

From within the belly of the fish, Jonah praises God not merely because God saved him from drowning, but also in confidence that God would also resolve the other open issues. Like the fact that he's stuck in the putrid belly of a fish... in the middle of a big, deep ocean.

Lord, teach me to praise you in the midst of my own life's open issues. The ocean is big. But you're bigger.

Jonah 2:2-10
He said:
"In my distress I called to the LORD,
and he answered me.
From deep in the realm of the dead I called for help,
and you listened to my cry.
You hurled me into the deep,
into the very heart of the seas,
and the currents swirled about me;
all your waves and breakers
swept over me.

I said, 'I have been banished
from your sight;
yet I will look again
toward your holy temple.'

The engulfing waters threatened me,
the deep surrounded me;
seaweed was wrapped around my head.

To the roots of the mountains I sank down;
the earth beneath barred me in forever.
But you, LORD my God,
brought my life up from the pit.

"When my life was ebbing away,
I remembered you, LORD,
and my prayer rose to you,
to your holy temple.

"Those who cling to worthless idols
forfeit God's love for them.

But I, with shouts of grateful praise,
will sacrifice to you.
What I have vowed I will make good.
I will say, 'Salvation comes from the LORD.' "

And the LORD commanded the fish, and it vomited Jonah onto dry land.

Hiding What God Cannot Heal

I was struck today by the interaction between Jesus and Martha recorded in the John 11.

Martha's brother Lazarus had died four days earlier. Jesus now arrives on the scene with a very good and wonderful plan. He's going to raise Lazarus from the dead.

First step?

Gotta get that stone away from the tomb entrance.

John 11:39
"Take away the stone," he said.
"But, Lord," said Martha, the sister of the dead man, "by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days."

By Martha's reasoning, the stone is a help and not a hindrance. Why? Because Martha assumes that this is a problem too big for Jesus. Jesus can do wonders, but Lazarus is dead. Even Jesus can't fix that. That being the case, why remove the stone? What's the point?

But Jesus surprised Martha. And I am pondering where I ought to let him surprise me.

What stones do I have over problems and sorrows that I think are too big for Jesus?

Am I afraid of letting the stench of my hidden wounds see the light of day?

Jesus, I lay before you my hidden sorrows. Take away the stones that hide them. Bring to life that which was dead. Bring your fragrance and life to that in me which stinks unto death.

And, as with Larazus, let your healing power displayed in my life be testimony to the world that Jesus conquers all.

Even death.

Symptoms Don't Kill You

I've been meaning for some time to jot down a quick reflection on a recent article I read entitled Metabolic syndrome: A game of consequences?

The gist of the article, should the link grow cold, is simply the fascinating thesis that being fat is not bad for you.

What???

Yes. Being fat is not bad for you. Eating too much is the real culprit. The new thinking is that, when we eat too much, our bodies convert the stuff we eat into fat. So far so good. No surprises there.

But the next thought is that it is literally the food that is killing us, and not the fat. Fat, by this reasoning, is merely an indicator of the thing that's really killing us. The details get pretty scientific, but the short of it is that food itself (great in moderation) is toxic in bulk quantities.

That's a revolutionary restatement of the problem, and it has real-world implications in how we think about things. If it's true, for example, then liposuction is not helpful, nor even neutral, but rather harmful in that it not only hides the problem but also strips the body of a key tool in its arsenal to fight the toxic effects of food.

I was struck by this for reasons noted in the article and also for reasons not explored in the article. Chief among those thoughts that ran through my mind was the fact that a healthy habit of fasting regularly is, in light of this research, clearly an extremely healthy thing to do. Fasting is one of those spiritual disciplines widely practiced throughout church history up until a few hundred years ago.

A lot of good Christian habits have fallen by the wayside in recent centuries. Silence. Solitude. Hospitality. The roadside to modernity is littered with the corpses of good Christian disciplines. I know hardly a soul who practices fasting regularly.

But I digress.

On further reflection, I was also struck by other areas in Christian life where I have seen this sort of confusion in play. For example, I have learned in recent years to not lament the decline of a local church.

Christ's bride is alive and well. Where God is served, the Spirit is present. Where Christ is honored, his people will, as he promised, have life, and life abundant at that.

If a local congregation is dwindling... if a church closes... that's fat. An external indicator of a critical problem that lies elsewhere. The real problem? That Christ is no longer honored at that church. That is what we ought to lament.

Once this thinking is in place, we are all freed of the ritual hand-wringing when churches are run poorly or close up shop, etc. Let us focus rather on watching God and serving His church. The other stuff may come and go, but in the end are just symptoms of how well or poorly the Christians within them are living out God's calling.

God's calling, and His church... are quite safe. And I can rest in that peace.

So let's worry about honoring Christ. The churches we call "home" on Sunday morning will take care of themselves if we do that.

Just like fat doesn't gather on a body that eats in moderation and exercises regularly.

Why I Am Angry

[Spoiler alert for the last fifteen westerners who have not yet viewed "Slum-Dog Millionaire"]

[And to you fifteen souls.... hurry up and watch it, for heaven's sake!]

I just watched "Slum-Dog Millionaire" tonight with my lovely bride.

At the pivotal moment (or one of them, anyway) I realized that Kumar, a man in a position of power, was lying to Jamal, the hero of the movie. It dawned on me slowly, but as the scene unfolding I began to realize that
(a) Kumar did not have Jamal's best interests in mind
(b) the answer (b) that Kumar had fed Jamal was incorrect, and that
(c) Jamal also saw through Kumar's motives and therefore knew that
(d) the alternative answer (d) was the one to go with.

I rooted for my slum-dog hero. Don't do it, Jamal! (b) is going to be the wrong answer. The dude is lying to you! Go with (d)!

Yay!

Slum-dog hero Jamal went with (d) and proved his lack of trust to be well-placed — and very, very well rewarded.

A few seconds after the scene had played out before my eyes, I felt a deep anger welling up from within me. Where was it coming from? And then the feelings rushed forth.

Whereas my protagonist had been through hell and back with some of the worst sorts of scum (and gained his mistrust by this route), I owed my jaded cynicism to experiences I had endured within the hallowed halls of churches I have attended in recent years.

Yes, I learned to smell liars out and watch for ulterior motives by watching men in power at church. That it was in church that I had to learn these survival skills makes me angry. Really, really angry.

And I know it makes Jesus angry too.

For The Children

[Editorial note: there are no straw men in what I wrote below. All these arguments have proceeded from the lips of loved friends, family... and from myself. Sometimes from all three.]

Jesus calls us to a life of simplicity.

And generosity.

Luke 12:32-34
"Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will not be exhausted, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Over and over and over again the gospels reveal a Jesus who instructs us to travel light and give without thought of repayment.

And so we consider how life would look if we followed his instructions. A faint stirring rises in our souls. There is indeed something noble in the thought. Yes, we could do that...

But then we reconsider.

"For our children," we solemnly note, "we must save. We will need to provide them with a legacy."

Jesus calls us to live peacefully.

To not fight back.

Luke 9:22-23
"If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it.

In no fewer than five places across three different gospels Jesus repeats these words. We are to live as innocent people condemned to a violent death. That is exactly what a cross means.

And so we consider how life would look if we followed his instructions. A faint stirring rises in our souls. There is indeed something noble in the thought. Yes, we could do that...

But then we reconsider.

"For our children," we solemnly note, "we must be ready and prepared to protect. If the lives of our children are at stake, we might perhaps have to kill the attacker."

Jesus teaches us to love sinful people.

In close proximity.

Luke 7:36-50
Now one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, so he went to the Pharisee's house and reclined at the table. When a woman who had lived a sinful life in that town learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee's house, she brought an alabaster jar of perfume, and as she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them.
When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner."

Jesus answered him, "Simon, I have something to tell you."
"Tell me, teacher," he said.

"Two men owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he canceled the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?"

Simon replied, "I suppose the one who had the bigger debt canceled."

"You have judged correctly," Jesus said.

Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little."

Then Jesus said to her, "Your sins are forgiven."

The other guests began to say among themselves, "Who is this who even forgives sins?"

Jesus said to the woman, "Your faith has saved you; go in peace."

The problem at this party is not the loose woman who crashed it, but the Pharisee who didn't want her in his home. Jesus makes this fact perfectly clear. He hung out with sinners and expected his followers to do the same.

And so we consider how life would look if we followed his instructions. A faint stirring rises in our souls. There is indeed something noble in the thought. Yes, we could do that...

But then we reconsider.

"For our children," we solemnly note, "we must avoid bad places and bad people. Our children might be harmed by what they see and hear."

And in this way...

...we condemn ourselves with our very own words.

For our children will indeed be formed by what they see and hear — and nowhere more so than when then watch us.

Jesus taught us to live simply, give generously, expect to be mistreated, plan to not retaliate, and to love the most unwholesome souls in uncomfortably close quarters.

But "for our children" we hoard money, prepare for violence and keep the really bad sorts of sinners at arms length (or further).

It's a terrible shame that we saddle our own children with the responsibility for all our disobedience. We really should ignore Jesus' teachings for ourselves. But let's be honest. Isn't that what we've been doing all along?

It isn't for our children that we live as we do. We just like to think it sounds better when we say it that way.

Not to worry, though, for our children watch us do it. And for their children they will do the same.

Asking The Right Question

I once took an active interest in the topic of women's ordination. Should women be permitted to serve as ordained ministers? I felt it was an important question.

But that was when I still thought that church was where the important stuff in Christian living transpired. Churches were where you brought your friends so that they could be saved. Churches were where you grew spiritually. I might not have said these words that way... they look awful when written in black and white. But that attitude was lurking in dark corners of my heart.

I don't think that way about church anymore. A number of painful experiences and hard-learned lessons have brought me to the "heart" (as opposed to "head") understanding that church buildings and the people who run them are not to be confused with the Church universal nor with the true work of Christian ministry. These categories do, of course, intersect — and the more the better — but I believe without a doubt that most of God's finest ministers have never been technically ordained.

Thus a once-interesting topic now leaves me disengaged. Why get worked up over who can hold which titles within church buildings and organizations? Why would that question occupy my thoughts?

"If you don't care, Pilgrim, why then this blog entry?"

A fair question. The answer is this: the topic had been sifting around in my head lately because a woman visiting my church recently made it quite evident that her home church would need to be one in which the ordination of women is permitted and practiced. I left the service that day not only puzzled that she felt this topic was so important, but also bemused to note that the topic had left my radar unannounced. It was her words that brought to my attention the fact that I no longer really care about a topic that once captured my interest as well.

But once drawn to revisit the question, I am reminded of this verse:

Romans 15:20
It has always been my ambition to preach the gospel where Christ was not known, so that I would not be building on someone else's foundation.

This verse helpfully reminds us that Paul loved evangelism and preferred to practice it where there was no church at all. Needless to say, questions of ordination don't play a pivotal role in a land with no churches. So while people can (and do) argue over whether Paul felt women could lead churches, I think they spend their passions on secondary questions.

So much for St. Paul. The true inspiration for this blog, however, resides in this week's Book of Common Prayer readings. How did Jesus feel about women's ordination? Again, I seek to shift the question, and I noticed today for the first time that this passage from the gospel of John implicitly invites us to do the same.

John 4:1-8 (condensed)
Now Jesus... came to a town in Samaria... Jacob's well was there, and Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about noon.
When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, "Will you give me a drink?" (His disciples had gone into the town to buy food.)

A few simple questions... Where are the disciples? (In town!) What were they there for? (To get food.) So much for the disciples. Meanwhile, Jesus chats with a rather colorful "I've had five husbands and the dude I live with now is not one of them" woman. For brevity's sake, let's call her Lola.

The disciples return from town. Question. Did they bring anybody with them? No. They brought food. Jesus is not impressed with their efforts. Not interested in their food.

How about Lola? She came in search of water, just as the disciples went in search of food. But Jesus has challenged her to give up the game of hunting down ordinary water and to instead become herself a source of living water. Does Lola take the bait?

Yes. Full points to Lola, who on her seventh try gets it right. Five failed marriages and a sixth live-in arrangement are not enough to disqualify Lola from God's consideration. Jesus is the seventh man in her life, which is quite fitting, since seven is the number of God. She finally gets a good offer and does not refuse.

John 4:28-30
Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people, "Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?" They came out of the town and made their way toward him.

So the disciples went to town for ordinary food and came back with no people. Lola, on the other hand, left the ordinary water at the well and returned from town with people. Are we detecting a theme here, perhaps? A study in contrasts? In case there were any doubt, the rest of the story cements the point.

John 4:39-42
Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman's testimony, "He told me everything I ever did." So when the Samaritans came to him, they urged him to stay with them, and he stayed two days. And because of his words many more became believers.
They said to the woman, "We no longer believe just because of what you said; now we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Savior of the world."

In the parable of the good Samaritan, Jesus turns the question of "Who is my neighbor?" into a better question: "What does a good neighbor do?" I seek here to do the same. Why ask "Who can be an ordained minister?" Let us rather ask this: "What does a good minister do?"

My simple answer to this rephrased question is that good ministers bring people into the presence of Christ. It's a bit of a figurative phrase, but it is nevertheless true that only God can truly heal souls. We can dispense knowledge, and it will heal no one. Make no one grow. But God grows us and heals us. Good ministers bring us to God. Call it an oversimplification but I'll stand by it.

So how might we apply these thoughts to this passage from the gospel of John? First off, we'd quickly note that none of the twelve "officially ordained" disciples did any ministry on that day. All they pulled off that day was a bit of shopping in the nearby town. How long have these men been with Jesus? Weeks? Months? A year? And they still don't have a clue. Small wonder Jesus berated them a bit while awaiting Lola's return.

John 4:35b
I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest.

Jesus is disappointed because his slow-to-learn appointed ministers are doing no ministry. His harvesters are bringing back the wrong harvest. While they focused their attention on food, Jesus focused his attention on people. Lola, to be specific.

No shock that Jesus gets it right. Where things get really interesting, however, is when we notice that
(a) Jesus offered Lola the right to minister as well, and
(b) she accepted his offer.

The offer, implicit in his assurances that she could herself become a source of living water, is made explicit when Jesus instructs Lola to go into town and bring back her man. Lola takes this offer and runs with it. Literally. In her hurry, she doesn't even remember her water jar! She returns with not one man, but rather a whole bevy of townsfolk. She brings them to the feet of Jesus. Which, as noted earlier, perfectly fits my definition of a good minister.

The message in this passage is not stated point-blank, but it is there, ready to hit us with a two-by-four. Twelve ordained men failed to minister to anyone on that day. Jesus even refused their ministrations of food. But Lola accepted Jesus' ministry of living water... And proceeded to minister to her whole town.

There is an old joke that goes like this: "A woman has to do twice as much as a man to be considered half as good. Fortunately, this is not very difficult."

This joke meets its match in Lola, who ups the ante by orders of magnitude. After all, on that day twelve men were sent to do what a single woman typically does ("the shopping") while one woman, Lola, meanwhile performed the job those same twelve men were called to do ("ministry") — and immediately did it far better than any one of them had yet come close to doing.

Lola was an awesome minister on that day. And if loose-lady Lola can be a minister, anyone can. Do we really need to pursue the matter any further? Not if we are focused on the right harvest. True harvesters will be recognized not by their official title by rather the harvest they bring in.

Jesus, Paul and Lola harvested people. And we, all of us, are invited to do the same.

Some will disagree with my simplistic logic. Be that as it may. Let the record show, however, that Jesus is far, far more interested in who brings him people than he is in who brings him food — which is a useful thing to remember before we get too worked up over the church politics of who gets to break the loaf of bread during a communion service.

1 Corinthians 1:27
But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.

I Am An H...

I had a great idea the other day... to buy a set of books that I was sure my kids would love. I could read them aloud. Probably all four kids would be able to enjoy them! That's hard to pull off, given the span of ages!

I found the books listed on Amazon at a shockingly good price. A 5-book set of paperbacks for just $4.00! Too good to be true! Better still, by ordering a few other books at the same time (a few future birthday gifts for me!) I pulled this coup off with no shipping expenses. I completed the order and began my UPS vigil.

The awaited box arrived in due time, but disappointment soon spoiled my moment of glory. The order indicated a 5-book set. So did the receipt in the box. But the only thing in the box (for the kids) was one lonely paperback.

I was ticked.

I had been looking forward to reading the books to the kids!

So I began to fiddle around online, looking for a way to tell Amazon in so many words that they had screwed up. That they needed to make me right. That they needed to get me what I'd ordered... and soon! I deserved no less. Even if they had to buy the paperback set of books at a loss from someone else...

The online clicking eventually led to a phone call from an Amazon representative. As the conversation began, I was professional enough in my word choice, but I didn't sound like a close friend. I suppose I sounded at least a little bit like someone who had an axe to grind or like someone who had missed their morning coffee.

In order to figure out what part of my order had gone missing, the woman on the line began to recite the books that should have arrived in the box. This annoyed me a little bit, because the problem item was the last one listed on the packing slip. No matter. My chance to gripe was coming, so I bit my tongue while she recited off the other books on the list which I had ordered for myself.

What's So Amazing About Grace

As she finished the first title, something went Click! in my head.

The Jesus I Never Knew

By the time she'd finished reciting the second book title, my conscious thought had caught up with the frantic efforts of my sub-conscious mind.

Good grief! With books titles like those on my order, how could I proceed? Not only did my planned speech need to be re-thought, but my attitude as well.

Shame crept over me like a damp fog. Recollections of my most recent blog flooded my thoughts. Hadn't it been about being willing to not only die with Christ, but stay dead? And here I was about to get rude with an Amazon representative about a mislabeled book order.

I shifted gears quickly and proceeded to work out details with the woman politely. Arrangements were made for the return of the solitary paperback, but I didn't breathe a word about getting a replacement book set for no extra cost.

After I got off the phone, I went online again and ordered the same set of books again, but this time I paid some $20 plus shipping.

As I worked these details out, I found myself humming an old tune I haven't sung in a very, very long time.

It's a children's tune. The words are as follows....

I am a C!
I am a C-H!
I am a C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N!
And I've got C-H-R-I-S-T in my H-E-A-R-T and I will...

And so the song goes. Spelling out who we are. Most of us who went to Sunday School at some point will have heard this song.

But as I hummed, the version I was working on went like this....

I am an H!
I am an H-Y!
I am an H-Y-P-O-C-R-I-T-E!
Cuz I write one thing in my blogs and do another when logged off...

Thanks be to God that there is grace to be had for hypocrites.

1 Timothy 1:15
Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst.

To Die Convincingly

I was struck the other day by one of the differences between the Nicene Creed and the Apostle's Creed. I generally prefer the Nicene Creed, which is rather more verbose and which covers more details. (This will come as no surprise to the sorry recipients of some of my more lengthy emails.)

But there's one little area where it seems to my eyes that the Apostle's Creed goes beyond what is covered in the Nicene Creed. The Nicene Creed says this of Jesus Christ:

...For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate;
he suffered death and was buried.
On the third day he rose again
in accordance with the Scriptures...

The Apostle's Creed covers the same ground with these words:

...He suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died, and was buried.
He descended to the dead.
On the third day he rose again...

I like that extra bit in the Apostle's creed about Jesus descending to the dead. I find it helpful.

Why? Because I need to be reminded that Jesus didn't spring up from the cross right away. I need to be reminded that Jesus didn't rise from the dead instantly, but rather descended to the dead convincingly.

I need to expect, even welcome, the same treatment.

The constant theme of the New Testament is that we are called to share in Christ's death. To glory in enduring insults for his name. To accept suffering alongside him as part of the package. I am (slowly) learning how better to do that.

So far, so good.

The problem is this: I'm not patient. I want to spring up from the cross. I don't want to wait in a cold, cold grave. I don't want to die, die. That would be taking this crucifixion thing a bit too far, wouldn't it?

Actually, it wouldn't, but these are rather figurative words. An example might help explain what I mean.

When someone slanders me, my natural reaction is to defend myself right away. And sometimes that's the right thing to do. But sometimes it's best to simply walk away. I have a hard time walking away, though I am (slowly) getting better at it.

Even when I do walk away, however, I find it harder still to truly leave the matter with God. To let it (and with it, my pride) die. I don't let go of the memory. I keep it alive and well in my thoughts. Sure as shootin'... I eventually find myself reliving the situation in the presence of a sympathetic ear. I engineer the resurrection of my wounded pride with the help of a family member or a close friend.

Why? Because I want to be vindicated, and I'd prefer that it happen now. Figuratively speaking, I can die for a few minutes. Even a few hours. But a few days? Weeks? My track record indicates a firm negative on that.

Waiting on God's timing is not to my liking. God's vindication might not come for years. It might even lie beyond the grave. That's too long.

So I spring from my cross instead.

And here is a point where I think both creeds fall a bit short, because both creeds indicate that Jesus rose from the dead on the third day. Which is, of course, true. But it was the Spirit of God that raised Jesus from the dead. Jesus did not rise by his own effort and volition. The creeds are a bit vague on this point.

Now I'm not looking to split hairs here on the nature of the trinity. There being only one God, it gets complicated quickly when we begin to discuss the three Persons therein.

But, that said, it's theologically and practically significant to me that it was not Jesus who raised himself from the dead, but the Spirit of God who did it. The testimony of scriptures is rather clear about this.

Acts 2:24
But God raised [Jesus Christ] from the dead...

1 Peter 3:18
[Jesus Christ] was put to death in the body but made alive by the Spirit...

Romans 8:11
And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit, who lives in you.

Fine. So why do I consider this a matter of practical importance? Because if I wait for the Spirit of God to raise me, I'll be on God's timeline. If I seek to do it myself, I'll be on my timeline.

No prizes for guessing which course of action is the better one.

No prizes for guessing which timeline is more hurried.

One salient characteristic of dead people is that they don't try to revive themselves. We don't seem to have picked up on this subtle point, but it wasn't lost on Jesus. He died convincingly and waited patiently. Most of his followers, sadly, do neither.

That, I suspect, is why Power of the sort spoken of in Romans 8:11 is notably absent in the lives of most Christians today, myself included. Because we refuse to die convincingly, we don't give the Spirt a chance to demonstrate his Power by raising us convincingly.

There is a solution, however, and it lies in our learning not only to die with Christ, but also to descend with him. When we do both, I am confident we'll be in a very good place for the Spirit to raise us up and do wonderful things through us, to the glory of the God we serve.

I thank the Apostle's Creed for this wonderful reminder.

Returning To Shechem

One trip ought to have sufficed.

Genesis 12:6-7
Abram traveled through the land as far as the site of the great tree of Moreh at Shechem. At that time the Canaanites were in the land. The LORD appeared to Abram and said, "To your offspring I will give this land." So he built an altar there to the LORD, who had appeared to him.

The deal of a lifetime. Abram gets another piece of it at the great oak of Shechem. We already know from the preceding text that God has called Abram out of the world he knew and away from the gods he knew and on to a new adventure with God. The true God. Here at the great oak of Shechem God revisits Abram and reminds him again of his great plans for Abram.

But strangely, Abram's offspring have a hard time remaining true to this awesome and generous God. They have a strange penchant for "little g" gods. The kind you can cut out of hunk of wood or stone. The ones that cannot really help anyone. The false gods.

In due time, therefore, it becomes apparent that a return pass by the great oak tree of Shechem is in order. To ditch a few false gods. To get tight again with the great God of the universe. To hopefully renew the deal of a lifetime. But is God willing? Still interested?

Yes. He is not only great, but he is also merciful. In fact, he calls for and arranges the trip. One can see, however, just a hint of frustration and jealousy in the way that God provides his travellers with a not-too-subtle hint about which God does the helping when times get rough. (Jacob, who happens to be one smart cookie, catches the hint.)

Genesis 35:1-4
Then God said to Jacob, "Go up to Bethel and settle there, and build an altar there to God, who appeared to you when you were fleeing from your brother Esau." So Jacob said to his household and to all who were with him, "Get rid of the foreign gods you have with you, and purify yourselves and change your clothes. Then come, let us go up to Bethel, where I will build an altar to God, who answered me in the day of my distress and who has been with me wherever I have gone." So they gave Jacob all the foreign gods they had and the rings in their ears, and Jacob buried them under the oak at Shechem.

All right, then. That settles that! Glad to have that done. Move on? Yes.

But not for good. The cycle repeats. It seems those false gods have more staying power than they ought to, because a gazillion years later, Jacob's descendants, now a mighty nation, find themselves again at Shechem, and for good reason.

Time to renew the agreement. And ditch some false gods... Again.

Nearing the end of his life, Joshua (the man who led the conquest of the land God had promised Abram) exhorts the people:

Joshua 24:14-25 (condensed)
"Now fear the LORD and serve him with all faithfulness. Throw away the gods your ancestors worshiped beyond the Euphrates River and in Egypt, and serve the LORD. But if serving the LORD seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served beyond the Euphrates, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you are living."

Then the people answered, "Far be it from us to forsake the LORD to serve other gods!... We too will serve the LORD, because he is our God."
...
"Now then," said Joshua, "throw away the foreign gods that are among you and yield your hearts to the LORD, the God of Israel."
...
On that day Joshua made a covenant for the people, and there at Shechem he reaffirmed for them decrees and laws. And Joshua recorded these things in the Book of the Law of God. Then he took a large stone and set it up there under the oak near the holy place of the LORD.

Great! All done! Now the whole nation has recommitted themselves to the one God.

But not for long. In due time the Israelites were back at it with the false gods once again.

I'm tempting to mock the Israelites and scorn the thought that I could be as foolish as they were. 500 years have passed! And they are still tempted by the false gods Abram left behind when he crossed the Euphrates? Seriously?

But in my heart I know better than to smirk too quickly. It's serious business getting rid of false idols. Terribly hard to do. Hard to do permanently, anyway.

I know this because I too have my hard-to-lose idols. As the Israelites did then, I do now. I worship God. But not Him alone. Money, the opinions of others, prestige, honor, safety, security... You name it. I worship these things too from time to time.

I try to renounce those extra gods. Send them packing for good. But they are never gone for good. On this day I may renounce all idols, all competitors for the love, trust and affection I owe to God and to God alone — but without fail a tomorrow arrives when I discover they have returned and set up shop in my heart.

Why is it we all have to keep returning to Shechem?

I don't have a good answer for that question. What I do know is that I need to return to Shechem regularly to do some business. To bury a few things.

And I am unspeakably grateful, because the Lord God who waits for me under that beautiful oak tree is merciful and kind.

And He always has two shovels at the ready.

The Word That Isn't There

Matthew 21:31
Jesus said to them, "Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you.

What radical words indeed.

Radical first because the Pharisees are not even in the kingdom yet.

These words have lost a lot of their original shock value. Back in the day... back when Jesus walked the earth... Samaritans were scum. And Pharisees were saints.

Thanks to Jesus, those two labels have swapped definitions. We forget that. Jesus had a way of changing the meaning of words, and we're living today in the 2,000 year old wake of his corrections.

The word Pharisee is nowadays so imbued with wickedness and harsh judgmentalism... we naturally don't blanch when Jesus says they do not belong to God. But at the time!

Radical words? Heck yeah. I think we too often forget just how radical they really are.

But there's more to it even than that, and this is where I think we are even more blind. Jesus' words were radical because of the missing word. If the word had been included, he would have been quoted as having said this: "Truly I tell you, the former tax collectors and the former prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you."

But that bit about former? Yeah. Not there.

Hidden in this missing word is a mystery which deserves our rapt attention.

What does it mean to say that an active prostitute is entering the kingdom of God? That an active tax collector is entering the kingdom of God?

I don't think the church today understands much of this mystery. A few simple questions. Stop me where I get off track.

If a practicing prostitute can enter the kingdom of God, can she enter my church? Is that OK with God?

If a practicing prostitute can enter the kingdom of God, can she take communion? Is that OK with God?

If a practicing prostitute can enter the kingdom of God, can she enter my home? Is that OK with God?

Can she play with my kids?

The general answer is Yes. But the church, more often than not, is living out a No.

What I see in the church and in Christian homes is not the bold advance of the powerful kingdom of God (into which prostitutes enter and – yes – eventually are indeed transformed by God's redeeming Spirit) but rather a great deal of fear about what the entrance of sinful people might do to our fragile edifices of effete holiness.

Fear and loathing.

We don't place our children in the arms of prostitutes. We only place them in the arms of former ones. We don't have room in the church and in our homes for tax collectors and prostitutes. We only have room for former ones.

But that's not what Jesus said. And it's not what he did.

But we ignore Jesus and worry more over protecting the purity of our surroundings than we do about welcoming prostitutes. And when we do so...

...we prove that Pharisees still walk the land.

The Price of Nothing

Nothing doesn't cost much. You wouldn't think it did, anyway.

But it does.

I know this because I've paid the price for Nothing on more than one occasion, and among those Nothing moments are numbered some of the most costly sorrows I have ever bought.

What sorrows do I speak of? Evils that could have been halted. Could have been stopped.

If someone had said or done Something.

But they didn't. They chose to do Nothing.

And it was in the vacuum of their inaction that I suffered.

There are usually three people in such situations. There is the wrongdoer. There is the victim. And there is the person who chose to do and say Nothing.

Sometimes whole crowds of people do Nothing, of course. But at the end of the day God doesn't judge crowds. He judges souls one at a time.

Speaking for myself, I've noted the irony that the memory of the pains inflicted by the perpetrator fade faster than the stubborn knowledge that "good people" stood by and did nothing to help me in my hour of need.

Was I not worth the bother? Not worth the risk? Not even worth a few words?

Someone reading this might think I've been through some dark hellish experiences. Not by ordinary reckoning. No physical torture here. Mostly just wounds from words that were never spoken in my defence.

But what must it feel like to be victim of a rape committed in a crowded street? It happens.

To rot in a prison, knowing that if enough people complained you'd get released. It happens.

To starve in a distant country, fully aware that wealthy people elsewhere who know of my plight are throwing piles of food away every day? It happens.

Yet perhaps we sell our human dignity short when we grant physical evils, awful as they are, special status. Laws in America usually do a pretty good job of protecting our corporeal bodies, so no... most of us, myself included, are in good shape on that front.

Protecting the soul is a bit trickier. A lot trickier. There aren't many laws that do that. God's law does. But judging by how often I've seen "good Christian folk" stand by while I suffered various comparably small injustices, I'd have to say God's law loses out to Nothing quite often.

Nothing is not cheap, but if people will choose Nothing to spare themselves a minor inconvenience, God only knows what they'll do when bigger risks are on the line. In Nazi Germany we witnessed not the mystery of so many who did Nothing, but the sheer miracle that even a few did Something.

God, grant me grace to know my role. I cannot do Everything. But I can do Something. And yet mostly I too do Nothing. Being hard on myself? False humility? No. Compared to what I could do... I've done a lot of Nothing. I'm a comfortable American. Need I say anything further? I know what the world is like. I've done more than Nothing. But not a lot more.

I hear others say we're not responsible to fix the world. I beg to differ. I think the wording itself is off. We have the option to make a difference. If we choose to do little or (God forbid) Nothing, then thus our choice shall be. We'll have to defend that choice before God one day, however. I'd rather have jumped for more options to do Something, driven by the love of Christ.

I was drawn to these dark reflections while viewing a Jars of Clay video entitled, Oh, my God. It ends with this chilling quote...

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.
— Edmund Burke

These haunting words remind me of something Abraham Joshua Heschel once said. "Some are guilty. All are responsible." Heschel would know a thing or two about that, having lost a number of his relatives to Nazi gas chambers.

Dietrich Bonhoffer understood the price of Nothing. He was so grieved by it that he returned to Germany to die rather than leave others to pay it in his absense.

For every Dietrich Bonhoeffer, however, there were whole cities filled with "good Christian folk" who did nothing. Some of those cities were hardly a stone's throw away from a death camp. It took effort to not investigage the source of the stench, but most people were up to that task, as it worked out.

Would I have looked into matters more closely? Stood up for Jews being carted off? Been willing to die for them? Been a Dietrich?

Have mercy on us, oh my God.

Not all monsters are bad, but the ones who are good
Never do what they could, never do what they could.
— Jars of Clay

Seven Habits of Highly Humble Leaders

Actually, most of these items aren't habits, and... well.... there aren't really seven of them, but rather two sets of seven.

But I'm told this treatise of mine won't see the light of day unless the title is catchy and reminiscent of other recently successful self-help books.


Act I

1. Be born to greatness.

Exodus 2:1-10 (greatly compressed) — When [Moses' mother] saw that he was a fine child, she took him to Pharaoh's daughter and he became her son.

2. Show initiative.

Exodus 2:11a — One day, after Moses had grown up, he went out to where his own people were and watched them at their hard labor.

3. Have compassion.

Exodus 2:11b — He saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his own people.

4. Fail catastrophically.

Exodus 2:12 — Glancing this way and that and seeing no one, he killed the Egyptian and hid him in the sand.

5. Discover your failure is public knowledge.

Exodus 2:13-14 — The next day he went out and saw two Hebrews fighting. He asked the one in the wrong, "Why are you hitting your fellow Hebrew?"
The man said, "Who made you ruler and judge over us? Are you thinking of killing me as you killed the Egyptian?" Then Moses was afraid and thought, "What I did must have become known."

6. Run (literally) for the hills.

Exodus 2:15 — When Pharaoh heard of this, he tried to kill Moses, but Moses fled from Pharaoh and went to live in Midian...

7. Spend about 40 years in desert solitude reflecting upon your abject failure. Watch your best years roll by.


Intermission...


Act II

1. Get re-commissioned by God to the exact same job you screwed up 40 years ago.

Exodus 3:10

God: "So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt."

2. Explain to God why He is mistaken. (Don't take "Go" for an answer.)

Exodus 3:11 - 4:12 (compressed)

Moses: "Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?"

God: "I will be with you."

Moses: "O Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue."

God: "Now go; I will help you..."

3. Keep arguing with God until He gets pissed.

Exodus 4:13-14

But Moses said, "O Lord, please send someone else to do it."

Then the LORD's anger burned against Moses...

4. Accept the job.

Exodus 4:18 — Then Moses went...

5. Be unappreciated.

Exodus 5:20-21 — When [the leaders of Israel]... found Moses... they said, "May the LORD look on you and judge you! You have made us obnoxious to Pharaoh and his officials and have put a sword in their hand to kill us."

6. Love, serve and pray for those entrusted to your care.

(the ones who find fault with you, that is...)

Exodus 5:22-23 — Moses returned to the LORD and said, "Why, Lord, why have you brought trouble on this people? Is this why you sent me? Ever since I went to Pharaoh to speak in your name, he has brought trouble on this people, and you have not rescued your people at all."

7. Repeat steps 5 and 6 for approximately forty years.

(A small word of advice: You have lots of time, so... be creative. Try many variations on this theme.)

Exodus 15:24 — So the people grumbled against Moses, saying, "What are we to drink?"

Exodus 16:2 — In the desert the whole community grumbled against Moses...

Exodus 17:3 — But the people were thirsty for water there, and they grumbled against Moses.

Numbers 14:2 — All the Israelites grumbled against Moses...

Numbers 16:41 — The next day the whole Israelite community grumbled against Moses...

To repeat.... respond to all this endless whining, disobedience and grumbling in the following manner: love, serve, and tirelessly intercede for (especially) those miserable souls whom God has placed in your life.

Stand between God and the grumblers when God himself loses patience and decides to kill them all. Threaten to quit your job so as to stay God's hand. (Then when God relents from slaughtering them all wholesale and kills only a few... watch those grumblers who are — thanks to you — still alive turn and blame you for the few deaths that did occur.)

Let your own sister accuse you of being arrogant. Watch God strike her with leprosy for having done so. (Now intercede with God to have mercy on her all the same and heal her.)

It would take a long time to rehearse all that Moses endured. Suffice it to say...

Just follow these simple steps, my friends. Do this for about 40 years and humility, true humility, my friends, will be yours for the taking.

Numbers 12:3 — Now Moses was a very humble man, more humble than anyone else on the face of the earth.

Two Compliments Don't Unwind A Single Insult

I guess the title says it all, but this phrase came to me as I reflected recently on hurts visited upon me.

Get slammed. Then get a compliment or two. All better?

No.

Slams hurt. There is an evil person in my life whose motto might be more closely aligned with "One compliment absolves me of my last ten vicious attacks." This person is not approachable in any manner, so I just have to take the eleven things said and pray for God's grace to bear up.

But I see this dynamic at work even in my interactions with certain souls who love me deeply. When they perceive that they have unkindly slammed me, the compliment factory kicks into gear. But no number of compliments can unwind an insult.

What, then, does unwind an insult? Confession. Both words start with "C" but they are different birds indeed.

Confessions require great humility and brokenness. We must be brought low in order to bring a true confession forth. We must, like a dog, roll over and exposes our belly. We give the other party an opportunity to forgive us... or to stab us in the gut.

It's much easier to toss out a compliment! Compliments can be given from a position of safety — even authority. They can be dispensed downward. That's why they are of no use when the order of the day is to unwind an insult. Compliments compound the problem, rather than rectify it.

It's not that I don't appreciate compliments — but after I have been insulted unkindly, a compliment is not the right antidote. On the heels of an insult, a compliment brings resentment, not healing. A package deal of insults and compliments reminds me that I'm being evaluated. Not loved. That's how it works out in practice for me, in any case.

Perhaps the situation is different for others, but I suspect not, and here's why: I play this game myself. I wish I could say that I don't. But I do. And the game doesn't work for me either. I have doled out compliments in lieu of confessions and have witnessed the same outcome.

For starters, the compliment sounds hollow and tinny coming from my lips. It doesn't even sound good to me. Furthermore, more often than not I can tell by the response I get (silent or otherwise) from the recipient of my verbal largesse that it didn't do much for them either.

Lord, grant me the wisdom to hold off on the insults in the first place. But failing that, grant me humility afterwards to confess and repent...

...and save my compliments for later.

A Good Proxy For Vigorous Exercise

So on Saturday my son Andrew and I watched the US pull out a tie against England in the first round of the World Cup. (Yay!)

On a sober note, I watched a commercial in which sports were not so much hinted at as being a religious experience, but rather literally celebrated as such. We're talking the whole nine yards, up to and including a sunlit cathedral window with a glowing soccer ball in its center. Etc. etc. etc. Not exactly subtle.

But here's the thing that made me laugh.

After the game, I said to Andrew, "Hey, I'd like to do something athletic today with you so that we can get some exercise. I don't care what it is..." But before I could finish that sentence, Andrew quickly interjected with his thoughts on why this would not be necessary.

"But Dad," Andrew replied, "we watched a World Cup game today. Didn't you see how they were sweating?"

What the Words Messiah and Church Have In Common

Answer #1

Both words show up in the below passage!

Matthew 16
When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, "Who do people say the Son of Man is?"

They replied, "Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets."

"But what about you?" he asked. "Who do you say I am?"

Simon Peter answered, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God."

Jesus replied, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of death will not overcome it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be loosed in heaven."

Then he ordered his disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.

Answer #2

Both words have been utterly and tragically misused and abused.

Jesus avoided the term Messiah like the plague. Practically everything that God had in mind for his Messiah was exactly not what the religious leaders and people of Jesus' day had in mind. And the Messiah they were waiting for was pretty much exactly not what God had in mind. Even the twelve disciples were utterly confused in their understanding. This is precisely why, after complimenting Peter for guessing correctly, Jesus proceeded to prohibit him from saying such things publicly.

The Messiah whose coming the Old Testament prophets foresaw was so wonderful that they found themselves literally grasping for words to convey the wonder of what they saw. By the time Jesus arrived, however, the word Messiah had been co-opted into a festering project of hatred and violence.

The Messiah, it was commonly believed, would overthrow the world order and restore Israel to the top of the heap. The Messiah, it was thought, would do some serious bloody and violent housecleaning. The Messiah, it was thought, hated Gentiles.

No wonder Jesus didn't want to be publicly associated with the word.

This, I submit, is the problem we face today with the word church. If Jesus were to conduct a follow-up interview with his disciples today, how might it go?

I imagine the following:

When Jesus came to the region of the Americas, he asked his disciples, "What do people here say the Church is?"

They replied, "Some say it's a place where sexual predators, money-grubbers and power-mongers find easy prey."

"Ouch." Jesus winced. "How do you feel about that?"

They answered, "We grieve that a people called to holiness, simple living and mutual submission should fail so greatly as to make such caricatures not only possible but in many cases well-justified."

"What else do you hear?" Jesus inquired.

They replied, "Others say the is church a minority group of people who want to write laws that will force all of society to live by their own standards of behavior."

"Do you agree?" Jesus asked.

They replied, "We don't think laws change people. It's your job to change hearts and transform lives."

"What else do people here say the Church is?" Jesus asked.

They replied, "Still others say that it is a bunch of people who hide from life and hate gays and other people they consider sinners."

"How do you feel about that?" Jesus asked.

They replied, "You spent most of your time with the people that religious leaders hated the most. We think we should do the same."

"What do people who go to church around here think the Church is?" Jesus asked.

They replied, "Many of them think it is a place where people gather socially on Sundays to listen to a sermon, sing a few inspiring songs, and get a lift that will carry them through the week. If it's a big church, they like to buy coffee at the Starbucks in the foyer."

"But what about you?" Jesus asked. "What do you say the Church is?"

They replied, "We are your people. We expect to suffer because we follow you. We encourage one another to bear up under suffering, support the cause of the orphans and widows, and take unpopular stands for those who cannot speak for themselves. We walk the way of the cross as you did, revealing to the entire world the secrets of God: that life is found in you, and nowhere else."

Jesus replied, "Blessed are you, my little ones, for this was not revealed to you by a sermon you heard on TV or in a mega-church. God himself revealed this to you, and I tell you that you are my church. The gates of death will not overcome you. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be loosed in heaven."

Yes, despite the way these terms have been dragged through the mud, both the Messiah and his Church will indeed prevail over the kingdom of Satan. But we have to be careful about how we refer to these two partners in victory.

As for Jesus, he was, as Peter said, "the Messiah, the Son of the living God." But because of the baggage that came with these legitimate titles, Jesus had to use code-words to refer to himself, the Son of Man being only one such example.

We face a similar dilemma today. We are indeed Christ's Church, but the original meaning of the word is now hidden beneath numerous layers of muck. For this reason we, like Jesus, must be cautious when using the term in public. In my imaginary dialog between Jesus and his disciples living today, I wonder if he might not have ended it on a similar note....

Then he ordered his disciples not to tell anyone that they were the church.

Jesus Sees Us

I noted in my last blog that I like Mark's word choice in his gospel account of Jesus walking on the water.

Mark 6:45-52
Immediately Jesus made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd. After leaving them, he went up on a mountainside to pray.

When evening came, the boat was in the middle of the lake, and he was alone on land.

He saw the disciples straining at the oars, because the wind was against them. About the fourth watch of the night he went out to them, walking on the lake. He was about to pass by them, but when they saw him walking on the lake, they thought he was a ghost. They cried out, because they all saw him and were terrified.

Immediately he spoke to them and said, "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid." Then he climbed into the boat with them, and the wind died down. They were completely amazed, for they had not understood about the loaves; their hearts were hardened.

Everybody knows the bit about Jesus walking on the water, but what fixates me from this passage is not so much that miracle (though it is cool!), but ironically pretty much everything else in the passage. Each phrase is a glittering treasure.

When evening came, the boat was in the middle of the lake, and he was alone on land. This part is gorgeous because it sets the impossible prelude. It's dark. Where's Jesus? Up on a mountain. Where are the disciples? In the middle of the lake. The impossible question: can any mortal see that far in the dark? No. In the days before electricity, you'd be lucky to see more than a few hundred yards.

But we're talking about Jesus, and his giftings do not begin and end with the ability to walk on water. He saw the disciples straining at the oars, because the wind was against them. Jesus can also see in the dark. A long way.

In John's account of this event (chapter 6) he notes not only that it was dark, but that the disciples had rowed some 3.5 miles out into the middle of the lake. John pointedly notes also that "Jesus had not yet joined them." This is a none-too-subtle reminder that, while Jesus sees them, they do not see him.

About the fourth watch of the night he went out to them, walking on the lake. The disciples think they are fighting this storm alone. But they're not. Jesus has been watching them the whole time. Now Jesus is coming to them. Help is on the way. But they still don't even know he's aware of their problem, let alone that he is coming.

He was about to pass by them, but when they saw him walking on the lake, they thought he was a ghost. They cried out, because they all saw him and were terrified. The phrase "pass them by" hints at a divine revelation — God's majesty revealed to mere men. So what happens when God shows up? The disciples are stricken with panic.

So we are on the horns of a dilemma. We panic when we're alone. And we panic when God shows up. The irony is that we were never alone, and God's arrival is good news – not bad news.

Immediately he spoke to them and said, "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid." This refrain is everywhere in the Bible. God says it. Angels say it. Prophets say it. Jesus said it. Repeatedly. Why? Because we frail humans just have a hard time believing it.

Then he climbed into the boat with them, and the wind died down. In this story, there is a literal storm, and it literally dies down. In my life, the storms are usually less tangible. A situation. A problem. But when I let Jesus into my boat, the storm dies down. The problem might not go away quickly – it may not go away at all! But if the peace of Christ is with me, the storm in my heart dies down.

They were completely amazed, for they had not understood about the loaves; their hearts were hardened. When will we ever learn that God sees us... that he's not leaving us alone?

The God who created the universe can make bread multiply.

The God who can multiply the loaves of bread can also walk on water.

And He can see us in the dark.

Superior In Every Way: Part II (Service)

OK, so this series of reflections is moving ahead slowly. I wrote Part I in March.

Be that as it may, I was reflecting on true service, and am reminded again of Jesus. Superior in every way.

There are so many ways to look at Jesus as a servant, and how he, God incarnate, was better at serving than those who owe their very existence to him, let alone their salvation. We live because of him... and yet cannot even serve him well. And yet he serves us.

The scriptures are full of examples of how Jesus served others, and I suppose the most famous passage would be the last supper, where he got down on his knees to wash the feet of the other disciples. He took the job his disciples were too proud to take. But today I am drawn to another passage: Matthew 14-15.

In Celebration of Discipline Richard Foster notes, "When we choose to serve, we are still in charge.... but when we choose to be a servant, we give up the right to be in charge. There is great freedom in this."

The other day I was with a good friend and saw a call come through on my cell phone. It was a needy soul, and I wasn't in the mood to break away. I let it go to voice mail and called the fellow back a day or two later. On my own time. By my schedule. When it was convenient for me.

Now a case can be made for such decisions. Nevertheless I found myself reflecting on whether the timing of our conversation was best for my friend... or just best for my calendar and my desires. I won't say it was entirely the latter, but it certainly wasn't entirely the former either. I didn't feel like answering the call. My service button was in the "off" mode.

For a sharp contrast, we need go no further than Matthew 14-15. Jesus' own cousin John the Baptist has just been beheaded by King Herod. The text then reads...

Matthew 14:12-14
John's disciples came and took his body and buried it. Then they went and told Jesus.

[His cousin just died. He's grieving. Does Jesus try to "take a break" from ministry? Yes.]

When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place.

[Do the needy people leave Jesus alone in this time of deep sorrow? No.]

Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns.

[Does Jesus tell them all to back off and leave him alone? No.]

When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick.

As noted in the verses which follow, Jesus continue all day to minister all day long to a vast crowd of needy people.

And it doesn't stop there. After a no-doubt emotionally draining day of service to a host of needy people, Jesus again tries to slip away again. Remember, his cousin just got beheaded. He's probably wanting just a wee bit of alone time.

[Here I switch over to the Gospel of Mark's rendition of the same day, simply because I love his word choice...]

Mark 6:45-51
Immediately Jesus made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd. After leaving them, he went up on a mountainside to pray.

When evening came, the boat was in the middle of the lake, and he was alone on land.

He saw the disciples straining at the oars, because the wind was against them. About the fourth watch of the night he went out to them, walking on the lake. He was about to pass by them, but when they saw him walking on the lake, they thought he was a ghost. They cried out, because they all saw him and were terrified.

Immediately he spoke to them and said, "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid."

On the one day he needs to escape, he instead continues to serve. And serve. And serve.

Superior in every way.