Lent Reflection #11

I'm a few days behind in the 'Read-the-Bible-in-a-Year' plan and my hope is to do some catching up after Easter. The Old Testament reading for today was Deuteronomy 10-14, which included some good stuff to chew on. It's tempting some days to move through the readings quickly, especially when the daily reading is 4 or 5 chapters. Making the attempt to post with some regularity is causing me to slow down a little bit and pay closer attention to what I'm reading, if only to find something that sparks a little inspiration for a post. 

To be clear, my appreciation for the Old Testament has grown tremendously over the last few years, due mainly to an intentional effort to teach studies focused on the Old Testament on my part. I have come to deeply appreciate the 'humanness' of the Old Testament, finding many helpful points of connection in the stories of some very flawed individuals.

However, since I have been formed and shaped as a Methodist, I automatically look for practical application when I read Scripture or engage in theological reflection. My (occasionally annoying) tendency is to instantly ask of what I read: "What am I supposed to do?" While this is not unique to the Methodism, this kind of emphasis on practical application is definitely a big part of the Wesleyan tradition. So when I read the question at the beginning of Deuteronomy 10:12, my ears perk up a little: "So now, O Israel, what does the Lord your God require of you?"

An artist's representation
of me trying to understand
the Old Testament.

I realize that including myself and my fellow Christians in the group being addressed is slightly problematic. But, for the purposes of my daily reading, I include myself (and my fellow Christians) in that group known as "Israel". At a deeper level, it helps me to remember that Israel is a compound word: 'Isra' coming from a verb meaning 'to struggle' and 'el' meaning 'God', which means that 'Israel' literally means 'struggles with God'. I'm definitely part of this group, these are my people - I struggle with God. And I'm in really good company when it comes to that particular struggle…

Anyway, back to what God requires of us. That's a difficult question. What does God require for the sake of our salvation? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. If anything is required of me as it pertains to my salvation, then Jesus' death on the cross was pointless. This is Paul's argument in Galatians 2:21 - "I do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing." This means that if I can achieve salvation through my obedience to law (what God requires, according to the Old Testament Law), then God's grace is ultimately unnecessary for my salvation. There's a lot more that can be said about this and other people have said it much better than I can, so I'll move on.

But there is more to life/faith/the world than justification - life continues beyond the moment of justification. In Wesleyan/Methodist terms, that continuing life is referred to as sanctifying grace. This is the grace of God at work in us through the Holy Spirit, perfecting us in love. And yes, participating in sanctifying grace requires something of us. There's stuff for us to do. But it's not perfect obedience to the Law (which is one of the things that is required in the response to the question of Deuteronomy 10:12). It's not even the oft-quoted list in Micah 6:8, which I love (do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with God). It's not perfect church attendance or saying the right words when praying or going to the 'right' church or any other human attempt at earning God's grace. Most of what many of us Christians call "Biblical standards" or "traditional values" are just different manifestations of Pharisaical self-righteousness. They are convenient ways to tear other people down while trying to feel better about ourselves. They far too often are more about our judgmental, narrow, tribal assumptions masquerading as our "witness" or our "walk". By the way, Jesus sees right through our various masks. We ain't fooling God with our desperate play-acting.

To soften the harsh tone just a little bit: our hypocrisy is, at root, motivated primarily by fear. We are afraid of being rejected, abandoned, neglected, forgotten, judged and found wanting. We are afraid that others will see the real person - the broken, imperfect, incompetent, incapable real self - that most of us feel the need to project an image of strength and confidence, even superiority and self-righteousness to the world. If people knew the real me - what I think, things I've done or left undone, what I've said - then they would reject me, hate me. If God knew the things...so, yeah, God knows. And God still loves us. Amazing grace, indeed.

Ok, then, what can we do? I'll let John give us the answer: "Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action…and this is his commandment, that we should believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he has commanded us."

Love God. Love your neighbor. Love the stranger. Love your enemies. Love one another.

I'm noticing a theme…

Lent Reflection #10

"Don't worry - tonight's
Bible Study is really simple!"

One of my favorite parts of worship is the children's time (or sermon, whatever you want to call it).  I love seeing and hearing all of those children. I love seeing their faces, with looks of expectation and happiness.  And I love the unscripted things they say - it occasionally gives worship an element of impulsiveness and danger.  And, at times, a deeper sense of the holy.  At our staff meeting today, I shared my love of the children's time and then I read Deuteronomy 4:9, which reads: "But take care and watch yourselves closely, so as neither to forget the things your eyes have seen nor to let them slip from your mind all the days of your life; make them known to your children and your children's children."

I then had everyone close their eyes and picture the kids of Harrisburg UMC during the children's time. I asked them to imagine their smiles, their looks of expectation, their energy and then imagine that they could say only one thing about God or church or faith - what would it be?  We shared our thoughts and most of us immediately thought, "Jesus loves you", with another staff member saying, "God is always faithful." 

Simple. Direct. Clear. 

And that simplicity and clarity came so easily and quickly to all of us around the table. Yet, we often make the message of our faith so very difficult, especially us preacher types. I'll confess to being the chief of sinners in this regard. I'm an expert in making matters way too complicated when it comes to faith. Part of my struggle is that I always have "Yes, but…" questions bouncing around in my head. The other part of my struggle is that I'm too often too focused on my head and not on my heart. 

While there are many opportunities for intellectual exploration when it comes to the Christian faith, it is not primarily about intellectual exploration. Following Jesus and all that goes with it - repentance, justification, reconciliation, worship, forgiveness, hope, etc. - is about the transformation and renewal of our whole selves by God: intellect, emotions, priorities, actions…all of it!

And at the core of it all of this is the love and faithfulness of God. Simple truths that might lead us to profound experiences of grace, mercy, and love.

I pray that all the love and mercy and grace that I've seen and experienced in my journey of faith will not slip from my mind and I'm grateful that I have so many opportunities to share that with my children (and the children of HUMC!)…

Lent Reflection #9

Today's reading from Luke coincided with a passage that the HUMC Theology Small Group was discussing last night. We are currently working our way (very slowly) through The Politics of Jesus by John Howard Yoder.  Yoder is using the Gospel of Luke as his primary Scriptural source and last night we were discussing Jesus' temptation in the wilderness, found in Luke 4.  Yoder argues that the second temptation ("And the devil said to him, ‘To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.’") is not actually about Jesus worshiping Satan, but rather the temptation of seizing and exercising power on the world's terms.  The temptation for Jesus is to take the easy way of using his power as God's King (the tempter's statement could be read, "if you are God's King…") in ways that are acknowledged and understood by human authorities. Accepting this easy way, which was readily available to Jesus, would have meant rejecting the cross and all of its suffering and pain. We actually see Jesus struggling with in the garden of Gethsemane in Luke 22:43-44.

In several places, Jesus teaches that the way of discipleship is marked by difficulty, self-denial, pain, and suffering. It is the way of the cross. At times, I wonder why it has to be this way. Couldn't God 'snap his fingers' and make it all easy? I find it interesting that my first impulse is that God is somehow responsible for how difficult discipleship can often be. As I reflect on this, I'm thinking that God is not Who makes the path of discipleship difficult.  It's how the world responds to people whose lives are ultimately governed by love and service, forgiveness and mercy. Followers of Jesus who take seriously his call to serve and to love (even enemies) are often decried as idealistic, naïve, foolish. In some places in our world, it's much worse than this - following Jesus can result in real persecution and even death.*

I've wondered before if I would be willing to pay that kind of price for my faith in Jesus. I'd love to be able to say that I'd willingly give my life for my faith, and before I had a wife and kids, I may very well have been willing to do that. I'm not so quick to say that at this point in my life. I'm grateful that I don't live in a place where my faith puts my life at risk, but there are many Christians in our world today who are in that exact position. They choose a difficult and dangerous path, resisting the temptation of the easy way.

I don't have any eloquent or grand conclusions to draw about that - it's simply what I'm thinking about this afternoon. I do know that the way of discipleship is not the American way (or the Canadian way or the Norwegian way or the Kenyan way). It is a way that is available no matter which empire/state/government you're under, but it's not an easy way or a way that is easily understood by those exercising earthly power. Certainly, Christianity has been coopted and corrupted in any number of ways throughout history, but the countercultural, counterintuitive call of Jesus still challenges and invites us. And it's still difficult. 

One foot in front of the other, eyes fixed on the pioneer of our faith…

*As opposed to fake, self-pitying 'persecution' that is focused on the color of Starbucks' cups and whether or not retailers wish people a "Merry Christmas". If someone's faith in Jesus needs to be validated by a coffee cup or a certain holiday greeting at Target, then one has to wonder about the strength or validity about said person's 'faith'...

Lent Reflection #8 - Striking a Balance

One of the misconceptions common to childhood is the idea that adults (or at least the ones who are in some position of authority) know what they're doing at all times. I shared in this delusion when I was younger and didn't really understand how wrong I was until I had children of my own, at which point I totally understood how many things I did not know and how many answers I did not have. 

I have been reminded of this in a few church meetings in which an important decision needs to be made or a direction needs to be discerned. It can be slightly disconcerting for a young pastor early in their ministry when a question comes up in a church council meeting and everyone's eyes turn towards you. When that happened to me, I wanted to deflect the responsibility. I was waiting for somebody else  to step up and take the lead. I assumed that there was a grownup in the room that would have the answer and I was pretty sure that it wasn't me. 

A while back, I was in a meeting with some of our leaders at HUMC  and we were discussing the church's future.  Someone asked the question: "How do we figure out when it's time to stop reflecting and start acting?" There were a number of wise people in this group - people with decades of experience in leadership in their careers and in the life of the church. And we didn't have a clear answer on that evening. 

I was thinking about all of this reading Luke 2 this morning. Two times, we are told that Mary pondered what was happening in her heart. Given the momentous events that she was a part of, I'm thinking that silent reflection was a necessity. But Mary was not passive bystander. Mary, I think, struck a much-needed balance. When God called her to act, she did so, acting on faith in God. Mary was not a silent bystander in the events of Jesus' birth - all you need to do is read Luke 1:46-55 to see how engaged she was with what was going on.

But her active participation was balanced with deep reflection. Mary acted and she pondered what was happening in her heart. That's a balance that a lot of folks struggle to find. Sometimes, we reflect and ponder and discern ourselves into total inaction. We look up from gazing at our bellybuttons long enough find the moment or the opportunity long since passed. And then we begin to ponder why we missed that opportunity. Or we don't ponder anything or engage in any reflection and act on impulse and instinct. And when we slow down, we might begin to notice the wreckage in our wake.

If we tried to be more like Mary in this regard, I'm thinking that our decision making would be a lot healthier. Mary shows us that pondering and acting are not mutually exclusive. We've got to ponder in our hearts to be aware of where the Spirit of God is leading us and we've also got to be ready to move when and where the Spirit moves. Even if we've got questions, even if there's fear and anxiety, even if we're not able to guarantee complete success - our pondering and our moving are both acts of faith in God and in what God is doing in our lives, in the church, and in the world. 

Part of what it means to be a mature adult and a mature Christian is knowing that you don't have all the answers and being willing to take risks - not based on foolish bravado or recklessness, but on a deep trust in the God that holds our lives in His hands.  Part of being a mature adult is being willing to be patient, like Mary was patient, pondering what is happening in our hearts, and then being ready to move when God says move. 

When will that be? I like what God tells Habakkuk: "...there is still a vision for the appointed time...if it seems to tarry, wait for it..."

May God help us wait patiently and act faithfully...

Lent Reflection #7

I was in high school when I first started trying to read the Bible seriously.  Even at that young age, I was fascinated by Paul's letters.  In my early attempts to understand Paul, I did not see his letters as cohesive arguments, but basically as a collection of inspirational verses.  Some of them are still stuck in my memory and most of those verses are the memorable ones: "I'm not ashamed of the Gospel…"; "There is no Jew nor Greek…"; "Do not be conformed to this world…"; "I can do all things through Christ…"  I had several of these on posters or t-shirts.  Some of these verses strengthened my faith in difficult times.  There's a reason that they have staying power in my life and the lives of many others.

There's one verse that has stuck with since my younger days that is not one of those famous, t-shirt worthy verses.  Colossians 4:18 says, "I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand.  Remember my chains.  Grace be with you.

Remember my chains.

That little statement has long left a mark on my spirit.  One reason is that it reminds me of the cost that Paul was willing to pay for the sake of his faith in Christ.  He was not alone in his willingness, of course.  But in several places he spoke eloquently and powerfully about his willing to pay the price.  This expression at the end of Colossians is blunt and to the point.  And powerful.

Like the Colossians, we need reminders, too.  While the chains that many of us struggle with are not made of metal literally shackling our hands and feet, they are just as strong and just as constricting.  More people than we know (or want to know) deal with the chains of addiction or mental illness or grief or regret or shame.  There are people who sit in church pews every Sunday morning who might be free to move physically, but they don't feel free to love or to grow or to trust.  Some are chained to their past, some are chained to a struggle in the present, and some are chained by hopelessness about the future.

How do we as Christians respond?  Paul's instruction to the Colossians about remembering his chains was an invitation to prayer.  Paul was asking the Colossians to remember his imprisonment not to inspire pity nor was he trying to impress them with the depth of his commitment.  He was asking for their prayers.  And not simply general, vague prayers, but deep prayer for strength and perseverance. 

Paul is extending that invitation to us as well.  Not for his chains, of course.  Paul has long since entered the Church Triumphant and the heavenly freedom that is our eternal hope.  Paul is inviting us to remember each other's chains, whatever they may be.  Paul is inviting us to pray for one another and to do so sincerely and specifically, praying for peace and wholeness and healing.  

Lent Reflection #6

I read today about Korah's Rebellion in Numbers 16, when a group of Levites rose up against Moses.  Verse 3 jumped out at me: "You have gone too far!  All the congregation are holy, everyone of them, and the Lord is among them.  So why then do you exalt yourselves above the assembly of the Lord?"  If you read that verse out of context, there would be a large number of people who would get behind that sentiment when it comes to pastors, local church leaders, or denominational leaders.  There's definitely a wave of Korah-esque anti-elitism going on in our country right now.  It's not necessarily anti-authority, but definitely anti-establishment - in both secular and religious life.

Here are some random thoughts that have been bouncing around in my head since reading that passage this morning:

• The current attitude in much of our culture can be boiled down to one confrontational question and one confrontational statement: "Who do  you think you are?" and "You can't tell me what to do!"  In many cases, that question and that statement reflect a deep-seated immaturity, an unwillingness to recognize appropriate authority or legitimate systems of accountability. 
• 50 years ago, more people had more respect for credentialed and educated professionals.  Some of that still remains - I'm occasionally taken aback by the change in many people's attitude towards me once they find out that I'm a minister.  But, by and large, diplomas and credentials don't carry the same weight that they once did.  I'm not entirely sure that this is a bad thing.  But it's not very helpful when people assume that spending a few hours on the internet, or reading one or two books, or watching a few YouTube videos puts them on the same level as people who have devoted their lives to certain fields of study or certain vocations. 
• Knee-jerk anti-authoritarian attitudes like Korah and his posse displayed is ultimately corrosive and destructive.   If I want to be like Jesus, I can't be like Korah.  The flip side of the coin is that blind, unthinking obedience is also corrosive and destructive.  The example of John Wesley is a good one - he was highly educated, extremely intelligent, and saw clearly that all of that stuff took a definite back seat to his faith in Jesus.

It is vitally important for leaders in the church (ordained or not) to recognize the source of any authority or power that they might have - it all comes from God.  All of it.  It is a gift of grace and as such is to be handled and used with grace.  As Jesus tells James and John, the work of the disciple of Jesus is to become a servant to all.  This is the paradox of leading like Jesus.  As a quote I once read puts it: "if anything is beneath you, leadership is beyond you." 

I think of that quote whenever I'm walking through the parking lot at the church and I see a piece of trash.  There's a split second where I selfishly think, "that's not my responsibility".  Then I remember that quote and I'm reminded that there is no work in God's Kingdom that is beneath me. 

And I'm sorry that today's post is kinda all over the place...some days it's pretty easy and other days, not so much.  

Lent Reflection #5

So, I'm a little behind.  There are good reasons for this, but instead of spending time on explanations, I'd rather just push ahead and resume my (almost) daily blogging during Lent. 

He's probably not focused on getting
fatally stabbed by Darth Maul

My son is currently in the last stages (I hope) of recovering from the flu.  He's been feeling pretty worn down over the last few days and this has led to a LOT of screen time.  And since he is my son, a good chunk of this has been Star Wars.  Daniel was in the mood for the prequels, so I happily obliged.  While reading Numbers 12-14 today, a line from The Phantom Menace spoken by Qui Gon Jinn came to my mind.  He tells young Anakin: "always remember, your focus determines your reality."  This is one of those lines that Star Wars fans like to quote and other SW fans will nod their head solemnly as if it is unquestionable wisdom from on high. 

I was thinking about that quote while reading about the spies in Numbers 13 - it almost fits!  And it almost makes sense in our lives, too.  That is until we run headfirst into things that no amount of focus on our part will change.  Given a few seconds of thought, it becomes clear that our focus does not determine our reality.  It's more accurate to say that our focus determines our response to reality.  How does this connect to the spies in Numbers 13?  Their focus shaped what they saw in the land that they were sent to observe.  And it was fear that shaped their focus.  The reality was different than what they perceived - they thought they saw giants, Nephilim they were called.  They saw themselves as being as insignificant as grasshoppers in comparison.  There are some good lessons here about change and fear and perception. 

For me personally right now, this is a helpful thing to ponder.  My sweet, better-than-I-deserve daughter will be having heart surgery next month (this will be her 2nd heart surgery to remove excess tissue under her aortic valve) and in my fearful moments, I find myself acting a little bit like the spies.  I can easily make room in my head for fears and worst-case scenarios.  This is a normal reaction when facing difficult stuff and, to a certain extent,  it's a good thing to be aware of risks and dangers.  But, if like the spies, I allow my fears to determine my focus, then my focus will determine how I respond to reality.  I'm not going to let my fear determine my focus, because frankly, that would suck.

My next reading this afternoon was Colossians 2.  It was good to read that chapter after reading about the spies.  Here's what I found helpful today: "As you therefore have received Jesus Christ the Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.  See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deceit…"

When we allow fear to determine our focus, we're easy marks for empty deceit - we'll believe some pretty crazy stuff.  When we are fearful, we become desperate for someone to fix it, make it better, give us a way out or an excuse to give up.  I can honestly say that I'm not fearful about my daughter's upcoming surgery - I ain't happy about it, but I'm not afraid.  I trust her surgeon and the medical staff at the hospital and I also trust in God.  Because I am rooted and being built up in Christ, I want my faith, not my fear, to determine my focus.