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.