Students of Jesus

Parable of the American Businessman

2012-01-28T12:04:00.000-05:00

Micahel Norton's blog, The Suburban Vagabond, incorporates one of my very favorite words. I've liked "vagabond" ever since hearing the lyric in The Lion King (sing it quietly to your self). He is a Jesus-follower and avid questioner. He lives near Indianapolis, Indiana with his wife, Amanda and his daughter, Lux. Michael is/has been a blogger, musician, pastor, poet, barista, construction worker, children’s minister, and ministry leader. Among his many hobbies are songwriting, hiking, coffee, travelling, listening to music (all kinds), reading, and people. His favorite authors include C.S. Lewis, N.T. Wright, Erwin McManus, Jack London, and Ted Dekker. You can read some of Michael’s endeavours into the world of poetry @ http://afineline.wordpress.com.

An American businessman, an oil executive, was flying into Afghanistan for an important meeting. On the way, his plane experienced catastrophic engine failure, and was forced to crash land. The passengers and crew – with the exception of the businessman – were all killed. He managed to stagger out of the burning wreckage, and lay bleeding, battered, and bruised under the shelter of a boulder, crying out for help from God and man.”

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Meditation: Fully Transformed

2012-01-23T00:30:00.001-05:00

Becoming a follower of Jesus requires at least three transformations: we must be born from above; we must acquire his character; and we must imitate his works. Most believers North America have a grasp on the first, a hope of the second, and almost no concept of the third.

Jesus had a high view of his followers. He believed in them more than they believed in themselves. He gave them extravagant assignments during their three years together on earth. And as Jesus prepared to leave, he charged his disciples with the impossible:

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The Parable of the Two Brothers

2012-01-21T16:43:00.000-05:00

What happens when the artists become the Bible expositors? Apparently some people are offended, some are challenged, still others yawn and go their solitary way. More and more I find myself with the artists, because they help me see with new eyes, hear with new ears, and taste the sweetness of God’s good heart.

For example, look what happens to the Parable of the Prodigal Son in the hands of Franco Zeffirelli, director of the still-fabulous Jesus of Nazareth. In this six-minute clip Jesus tells the familiar parable from Luke 15, but this film version helps us understand more than one meaning of the well-known story. . .

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Four Lessons I Learned from Jefferson Bethke, the "Why I Hate Religion but Love Jesus" Guy

2012-01-19T07:40:00.000-05:00

My nine year-old daughter listened to Jefferson Bethke’s Why I Hate Religion but Love Jesus just two times, and pronounced him theologically orthodox. I would take her endorsement over many a seminary professor’s.

In my work as an editor for ChurchLeaders.com I had a chance to chat with Jeff Bethke for about 30 minutes by phone Saturday night. You can read the heart of the interview here. Students of Jesus is a blog about spiritual formation, so today I’d like to share four spiritual formation lessons I gained from the 22 year-old poet and follower of Jesus:

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Meditation: Hearing All the Prophet Says

2012-01-16T02:24:00.002-05:00

Everyone reveres the prophet after he’s dead. But in his own day the prophet is rejected, ridiculed, scorned, misquoted, misunderstood, vilified, and in some cases shot in the head.

Today is Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day in the United States. In predictable Biblical tradition we have honored the prophet after he’s gone, have reduced the honor to an innocuous three-day weekend for federal employees and school children. In his honor Sears, Best Buy, WalMart, Kohls, and Toys R Us all offer fantastic deals of up to 75% off!

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The Parable of the Storytelling Son

2012-01-14T15:12:00.000-05:00

Andrew Perriman provides our guest post today. He and his wife, Belinda, and have lived in various parts of the world over the last 20 years: the Far East, Africa, Holland, the Middle East, the Nethelands, and London.They recently moved again to Dubai. His current theological interest is in how we retell the biblical story as we negotiate the difficult transition from the center to the margins of our culture following the collapse of Western Christendom.

There was a man who had two sons. The older son loved to tell stories and would keep the relatives and servants that made up his father’s household enthralled for hours with his repertoire of tales—not all of them believable—from the family’s eventful history. The younger son was of a much more rational frame of mind and couldn’t tell a joke to save his life.

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Eight Revelations from the Lost Episodes of the Great Commission

2012-01-12T00:11:00.000-05:00

There was a time when I was once five feet seven inches. The advancing years have exacted a toll on my frame, but once--at my peak--I commanded 67 inches of altitude. I wasn’t tall, but every inch was important to me. I resented anyone who would short me an inch, and I suspect the Great Commission of Matthew’s gospel feels the same way.

Matthew’s gospel ends with a stirring call to action from the Lord Jesus. The passage has been popular among Evangelicals for more than a century, but over the years--in our hurry to get to the words of Christ in red--we have chopped a couple of inches from the stature of this great passage. We have ignored the two verses that set the stage; verses 16 and 17. They provide the setting for the Lord’s missional statement. Seriously, who reads these verses? As it turns out, you will, today:

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Meditation: The Familiar Neighborhoods of God

2012-01-09T00:08:00.001-05:00

Chicago is my home town. When I hear someone say, “I’m from Chicago,” I immediately ask, “What part?” North side? South side? Downtown? Polish neighborhood, Irish neighborhood, Lithuanian, the projects, the suburbs, the Cubs, the Sox--what? It’s a big place: too big to be contained by any one description. Most people from Chicago have only hung out in a few neighborhoods.

The Creator of the universe is bigger than Chicago. A lot bigger. When we say, “I know God,” we make a laughable statement. We know him: but we don’t know all of him. He’s too big to be contained by any one description. If we know God at all, we are familiar with only a few neighborhoods of him.

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The Parable of the Shrewd (Good Guy) Manager

2012-01-07T07:55:00.000-05:00

How do you argue with a story? One of the joys reading of the parables of Jesus is discovering the multiple meanings layered in by the Storyteller. Just when you think you understand his meaning, along comes another possibility.This eight-minute video suggests that the Parable of the Shrewd Manager is actually a tale of righteousness breaking into (previously) shady business dealings.

See the video at the NEW Students of Jesus Website

Intentional, not Good Intentions

2012-01-05T00:28:00.001-05:00

I drove into town yesterday, just four days into the new year, and the roadside was littered with new years resolutions thrown aside like so much trash. We start each year with such good intentions--perhaps the road I was driving on was paved with them.

Jesus is looking for disciples, not revelers. Discipleship requires us to understand the difference between good intentions and intentionality. The Lord was quite clear: “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself, take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.” (Matthew 16: 24-25). This kind of following is more than a one-time decision; it is no mere “accepting the free gift.” It is the conscious choice to lose our lives in him.

Students of Jesus is moving to a new address: read the rest of the post here . . .

Meditation: There is More

2012-01-02T00:40:00.001-05:00

My Dad used to believe some crazy things about me. Every so often he would tell me I could do anything. He said I was smart and funny. He thought I could beat up any kid in my class. It was comical because I was the pee-wee of the school who ran his mouth way too much and then hid behind the teacher’s skirt. Clearly, my father didn’t live in the same world as I did.

I was convinced that my father had no clue about my life, so I ignored his advice. Years later, when I came to the pages of the New Testament I began to hear the same voice urging me to lift my vision. I’ve heard that voice at least four times, and I know it’s talking to all of us, not just me.

Students of Jesus is moving to a new address: read the rest of the post here . . .

The Parable of Lost Sheep and "Bad" Friends

2011-12-31T00:01:00.002-05:00

Robin McMillan and I share the distinction of having preached at each other’s churches--but we’ve never met. Like ships passing in the night, we are both passionately in pursuit of the King and his kingdom, but we’ve never put into the same port at the same time. Robin is the pastor at Queen City Church in Charlotte, NC. He’s a man brimming with personal experiences with God: stories to tell and life to share. He blogs here and Tweets there. Check him out!

The parable of the lost sheep is one of a trilogy of stories found in Luke 15 that Jesus used in response to the Pharisees’ criticism of His choices of friends and social interactions. The New Testament reveals that some called Jesus a wine bibber and a glutton, others accused Him of being the illicit child of an immoral mother. He wasn’t from the right tribe, the right town, or the right school; he didn’t have the right doctrine as far as they were concerned. Jesus had no shortage of critics.

The Pharisees criticized Jesus for both eating with and receiving tax collectors and sinners. Jesus responded by telling the story of a shepherd who had 100 sheep, and one of them ran off. Jesus assumed each of the Pharisees should leave the 99 for the 1 by saying, “What man of you having a hundred sheep, if he loses one of them, does not leave the ninety nine in the wilderness, and go after the one which is lost until he finds it?” -- thereby identifying both himself and the Pharisees as shepherds, a despised occupation in their culture.

This parable doesn’t only locate the darkness in the hearts of the Pharisees, it identifies some in my heart as well. Most business men would cut their 1% loss and rejoice over still having 99% on hand. That would be my own business sense because that’s good business: it’s just not love, and certainly not the heart of God!

So far, what has Jesus done in just a few short sentences? Concluded that the Pharisees should identify with shepherds; revealed their self-centeredness and pride; and reframed their personal responsibility as ministers. Can anyone say “Ouch?”

Jesus also assumed some responsibility for the one sheep’s condition… “if he [the shepherd] loses one” (Luke 15:3). That’s a different approach than placing all the blame on the sheep for having run off!

Jesus said that a good shepherd would find the sheep and lay it on his shoulders, rejoicing. That’s not the normal response He knew to be present in the Hebrew culture, nor in ours today. I have heard (and others have taught) that the reason the shepherd put the sheep on his shoulders and carried him home was because the norm was for the shepherd to break the lamb’s leg for running off, to teach him a lesson. If we did the same with our children we would be put in jail or the Department of Social Services would come get our children! He put him on His shoulders because lost sheep are often paralyzed with fear and the only hope of getting home would be if someone picked them up and carried them. Jesus said a good shepherd would do so ‘rejoicing’!

Heaven’s joy is based on the returning of lost sheep to their true home, the shepherd’s house. Heaven rejoices more over one returning lamb than ninety-nine who need no repentance. Too bad there are no such ninety-nine who need no repentance. No one needs 'no repentance'. We all have needed to repent at one time or another, or maybe even more than that.

God is a good businessman. He knows the way to secure the hearts of the ninety-nine is leave them for love of the one. That one could have been you or me. In so doing He builds a house of love and honor that has the potential to shake the world and reveal the heart of God. The heart of God is thus revealed in this short four-verse parable. It begins to fulfill the prayer of Jesus in a dynamic way; “Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven.” That's our calling. That's our challenge. That's our joy.

(For insights and inspiration I offer much gratitude to Kenneth E. Bailey and his book: The Cross and the Prodigal: Luke 15 Through the Eyes of Middle East Peasants.)

Your Top Five, My Top Five, and What's Ahead

2011-12-29T00:16:00.000-05:00

I’m a sucker for year-end recap articles, are you? If I find an article, The Top Ten Migrating Insects of 2011, I’ll read it! So here is the Students of Jesus 2011Rewind: your top five, my top five, guest posts, comments, Brangelina, and more!

Your Top Five for 2011:

Discovering the Word of God ~ Actually written in November of 2010, for some reason this post reignited in September and has been active nearly every day since. Maybe it’s the picture.

13 Thanksgiving Meditations ~ Another 2010 post, but since I love Thanksgiving more than Christmas or Easter, I’m happy this one’s alive and kicking. This year I wrote a snarky, satirical piece about Thanksgiving. Not even my Mom read it.

When Famous Christians are Gay ~ Yes, the top three posts in 2011 were all from 2010. Google drives this post on and on, apparently because a lot of people search famous, gay, and Christian.

Why Don’t North American Christians Raise the Dead? ~ At last, a 2011 post! This is an important discussion because it is so rarely brought up. A large number of people I meet simply doubt the facts of this story as I reported it. My personal feelings? If following Jesus is only an intellectual exercise, please count me out because I’m not smart enough.

The Tension of Love and Mystery: Why We Don’t Have to Know it All ~ If we really worship the all-knowing transcendent God of the universe, he’s probably not impressed with out intellect. What, then, does impress him?

My Top Five for 2011

~Or~ You’ll Break My Heart If You Don’t Like These:

The Distance Between Me and God ~ (It’s actually a two-fer, Part Two is here). Nearly every day I meet believers who feel the Father is far away from them. But how can a God who is everywhere be far away? And how do we make room for him?

The True Story ~ I’m pretty sure if we understand why the Father tells us stories we will quit arguing over the “facts” about the Bible. (Plus, I like the picture on this one)

The Single-File Parade ~ I write about dreams: some dreams I’ve actually had, and others I want to have. We should all have a dream like this.

The Case of the Really Short Skirt ~ Yes, it really happened, although when ChurchLeaders.com picked this story up, many comments accused me of making the whole thing up. I wish I had.

Lazarus Quenby and the Reasonable Dinner Party ~ First, I love the name Lazarus Quenby. Second, I used a fragment from a short story I wrote 30 years ago. Perhaps I should write fiction?

What I Saw at Church ~ In one fashion or another, I saw every bit of this in a single Sunday. And, yes, this the sixth link, even though I said five. That’s just you’d expect from a narcissist, isn’t it?

Most Popular Guest Post:
My Ugly/Beautiful Whore/Mother Church ~ Caleb Neff had something to say, and the tabloid-style headline didn’t hurt, either.

Most Comments:
Why Don’t North American Christians Raise the Dead? ~ Another shameful, attention-getting headline.

Best Metaphor:
What if Your Money’s No Good? ~ It has the added advantage of also being true.

The One I Wish I Hadn’t Written ~ All the book reviews. It’s really not in the center of what I do.

What’s ahead for 2012? Every Saturday: other writers will blog about the parables of Jesus. New voices, fresh perspective, and best of all--you don’t have to read my writing!

What are your choices for best or worst?

Journey of the Magi

2011-12-26T00:02:00.000-05:00

During this Advent season we’ve looked at Mary, Joseph, Zechariah and the shepherds. For the final Christmas post of 2011, I want to share with you my favorite Christmas poem. It’s the perfect example of a sanctified imagination encountering the scripture: nothing trite or easy here, just art in service of the Lord of Glory. Merry Christmas, friends.

Journey of the Magi

~ T.S. Eliot

A cold coming we had of it,

Just the worst time of the year

For a journey, and such a long journey:

The ways deep and the weather sharp,

The very dead of winter.

And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,

Lying down in the melting snow.

There were times when we regretted

The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,

And the silken girls bringing sherbet.

Then the camel men cursing and grumbling

And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,

And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,

And the cities dirty and the towns unfriendly

And the villages dirty and charging high prices:

A hard time we had of it.

At the end we preferred to travel all night,

Sleeping in snatches,

With the voices singing in our ears, saying

That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,

Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;

With a running stream and a water mill beating the darkness,

And three trees on the low sky,

And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.

Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,

Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,

And feet kicking the empty wineskins.

But there was no information, and so we continued

And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon

Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,

And I would do it again, but set down

This set down

This: were we led all that way for

Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,

We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,

But had thought they were different; this Birth was

Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.

We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,

But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,

With an alien people clutching their gods.

I should be glad of another death.

Ten Short Life-Lessons from Mary of Nazareth

2011-12-25T00:02:00.000-05:00

In the sixth month, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”

Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”

“How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?”

The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. For nothing is impossible with God.”

“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May it be to me as you have said.” Then the angel left her. (Luke 1: 26-38)

Ten Life-Lessons from Mary of Nazareth:

In the sixth month . . . God’s clock was already ticking when the angel came to Mary. Just because God announces something to me doesn’t mean it began with me.

. . . pledged to be married . . . We have our plans. God has his.

. . . you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you . . . Notice the connection between His favor and His presence. How could it be otherwise?

. . . Mary was greatly troubled at his words . . . When his favor is upon us it can be unsettling.

. . . You will be with child . . . Sometimes we enlist in the puposes of God, sometimes we are drafted.

How will this be? . . . There is a world of difference between asking God “how” and asking him “why.”

The Holy Spirit will come upon you . . . When God answers the “how” question, this is the usual way He starts.

For nothing is impossible with God . . . You heard him.

I am the Lord’s servant . . . Even though Mary was drafted, she responds with a willing heart. It would make all the difference over the next 30 years.

Then the angel left her . . . There are times when we have angelic help, and there are times when we are on our own.

Merry Christmas, friends!

The Parable of the Old Man's Vineyard

2011-12-24T00:03:00.003-05:00

If you blog long enough you end up meeting great people. Shawn Smucker is the friend of a friend of a friend--and I met that friend via blogging. Shawn, his wife, and four kids live in Paradise, literally (Paradise, PA--although I smell a tourism board at work somewhere). Everything I know about Shawn I know through the magic of the Interwebs, but I can tell you this: I like what I know, and if you check out his blog or follow him on the Twitter you will like it, too.

The old man bends over and picks up a handful of soil. Fertile soil. He runs it through his finger – it crumbles and falls heavily to the ground. The sound is like the pounding of the first raindrops.

All around him, activity: carts arriving with stone, hammers pounding boards together, and men shouting to one another. A high stone wall rises against the horizon. Inside it, huge green leaves drape down over the tiniest orbs: the beginnings of grapes. A tower rises in the center, overlooks the vineyard and the stone wall and the surrounding countryside. It is like the eye of God, the center of the universe.

The old man owns the vineyard, but something leads him away. Something demands his attention elsewhere. He leases the land to a group of farmers; they are eager to make their fortune on this man’s fully prepared estate. They don’t have to spend a penny – everything is ready. The crop is even planted. All they have to do is harvest it.

The old man leaves.

* * * * *

Months later, the harvest. The old man cannot return – perhaps he is frail. Perhaps he has many such vineyards and cannot be everywhere at once. In any case, he sends three of his most trusted servants to collect his share of the grapes.

The farmers stand in the tower they did not build, looking out over the vineyard they did not plant, surrounded by a wall of stones they did not hew. They see the servants approaching from a long way off. Perhaps they are worried that the old man is coming back to end the lease. Perhaps they have gotten used to their newfound wealth, having made no initial investment.

They meet the servants outside the stone wall. They beat the first one until he can only watch. They kill the next one instantly. But they surround the third servant and begin the slow work of murder by stoning until he is nothing but a hunk of bloody meat and exposed bone, his heart still beating. Then they draw closer and throw stones at his head until he dies, his skull crushed.

The farmers walk back inside the stone wall. The beaten servant returns to the old man. His is a slow, painful journey.

* * * * *

The old man sends more servants. Perhaps if they see that he is persistent, and that he can come in greater numbers, they will simply give him his fair share.

But the farmers have gone too far. They cannot reverse their course. When this new batch of servants arrives, the farmers beat some, kill others. Blood forms small pools on the road leading up to the vineyard. The bodies draw flies. Inside, the farmers continue to harvest the grapes, their fingers stained by the juice.

* * * * *

The old man stares out from his house, far from the vineyard. He ponders the news – more servants killed. Still no payment. The sun sets, yellows and reds and oranges streaking across the sky. He can walk away, count the venture as lost. Or he can still try to reconcile with them.

He calls out to a servant who approaches with humility.

“Yes, my Lord?”

The old man pauses, and as the sky slips toward darkness, he whispers something. He does not tell the servant to gather an ever larger contingent. He does not tell the servant to send for mercenaries by which he will win back his vineyard. No, he asks for something different.

“Bring me my son.”

* * * * *

Sending his son is not a power play, at least not in the brute force sense of power. The son is not some special forces operative planning on sneaking in and killing them all in their sleep. He is not leading a group of soldiers. He is going alone.

His father sends him in hopes that the farmers will be reminded. Who owns this vineyard? Who built the stone wall? The tower? To whom does all of this belong? The old man is hoping that the farmers will see his son as the embodiment of himself, and that they will respect his son as they respected him before he left.

But as the son approaches, the farmer’s meet him outside the stone wall. There is a moment of silence as the son stares at the men. They kill him without remorse.

The old man has no other heir to take over his estate, they reason. We can own the vineyard.

The son lies dead outside the vineyard. It is finished. Or so the farmers believe.

* * * * *

What will the old man do to the farmers? Jesus asked the leaders.

He’ll kill them and lease the vineyard to those who give him his fair share, they exclaimed.

So I tell you, Jesus said, that the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to people who do the things God wants in his kingdom.

* * * * *

What do I say to God when he asks me to return these things that have always been his? Do I trust him with my children? With my money? With my dreams?

Am I prepared to do the things he asks me to do, even when it involves giving my most precious possessions back to him?

Offering, and not acquisition, has always formed the entrance to the kingdom.

Nine Silent Months, One Prophetic Song

2011-12-22T00:10:00.002-05:00

Everywhere you look in the Christmas narratives you will find life-lessons for students of Jesus. The stories of Christmas are also the stuff of the Kingdom of God. For example, consider an out-of-the-way old man named Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist. His story is also a part of the Christmas saga.

One day he goes to work, encounters an angel, and receives the best news of his life. But it’s too good to be true, so he’s not sure if he can trust his heart to happiness. He voiced his fears. The angel who delivered good news to him was mildly offended at Zechariah’s inability to enter into joy and hope. This angel--Gabriel--came straight from the presence of God, where the only news is good news. Gabriel’s response to fear and doubt is instructive: keep silent until the promise comes to pass. Gabriel gave Zechariah an assignment: keep silent for nine months and meditate on the work of God.

Nine months and eight days later, Zechariah’s voice returned. What would you say after nine months of meditating on the goodness of God? Zechariah’s first words are recoded in Luke 1: 67-80. This passage is a grand hymn to the faithfulness--and the purposes--of God.

Nine months of reflection. Nine months to consider the work of God. Nine months to travel from doubt to insight; from fear to hope. Consider the lessons of nine moths of prayer and reflection. They were not only lessons for Zechariah, they are questions for us:

Zechariah was “filled with the Holy Spirit.” His perspective had shifted from the everyday to the presence of God (v 67). The presence of God transforms the everyday into eternity. How would our lives change if eternity was constantly at hand?
The God of Israel is in the business of redemption, both personally and corporately (vs 68-71). Zechariah and Elizabeth were only aware of their own childless life. It was the extent of their vision. When the God of Heaven answered, he included this childless couple in the grand story of redemption. God not only answered their hearts’ cry, he drafted them into the plan. How cool is that?
God’s saving action demonstrates his faithfulness to all generations, from Abraham forward (vs 72-73). God sees all of humanity before him at any given moment. His actions today may bless us and keep promises made centuries ago. Have we realized his kindness today may also complete the hope of ages past?
The purpose of God’s saving action is so that we can “serve him without fear” (v74). This is the stuff of soaring sermons and exhortations. Even in our day God’s people find themselves hemmed in by fear: fear of man, fear of the future, fear of their own inadequacies. How would our lives be changed if we could live outside of the fears common to man?
John the Baptist’s ministry was solely to prepare the way for another (v76). This view of ministry is fast fading from our communities. Many ministries faithfully serve others, but how many of us view ministry as releasing someone else to be the star?
Isaiah’s fingerprints are all over the Zechariah’s final words (vs 77-79). In his nine months of silence Zechariah was not alone with his own thoughts. His personal reflections were informed by the witness of scripture. What better way to interpret our own situation?
Finally, the baby was only eight days old. There was a lifetime to be lived; Zechariah’s work was just beginning (v80). When God’s promises come to pass we could be tempted to think of it as an ending. How many of us see the fulfillment of God’s promise as the beginning instead of the end?

Elizabeth’s child was not the only thing gestated during those nine months. Zechariah’s prophetic insight was birthed after it came to full term, and we are the better for it today.

Monday's Meditation: Flash, Dazzle, and the Quiet Sign

2011-12-19T07:39:00.006-05:00

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” (Luke 2: 8-15)

Some jobs involve tedious repetition, day-after-day. In the case of these shepherds the repetition was night-after-night. I’ve never been a shepherd, but I imagine the night shift could get pretty boring. The same co-workers, the same sheep, the same fields.

Luke’s gospel describes the one night where the sameness was interrupted. First an angel appears out of nowhere. Then the shepherds are surrounded by the shining glory of God, much like what Moses experienced. Finally, the very fabric of the sky is pulled back like a curtain, revealing a host of other-worldly creatures in full-on praise and worship. That’s not a normal night.

Yet in this account is an amazing contradiction that captures our attention and invites us to consider the value system of Heaven. In the midst of the supernatural announcement we find this incongruous sentence: “This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby . . . ”

What? Angelic visitation is not the sign of God’s work? Nor is the visible, shining presence of God? The sky-rending heavenly choir is not sign enough? Well actually, no. The implied lesson of the annunciation is that God’s signs are sometimes so natural we might well miss the true wonder of his work.

There has never been a greater sign of God’s goodness, grace, creativity or power than the night he became human. But we humans crave the spectacular. We think the “sign” must be eye-poppingly supernatural. We are impressed by flash and dazzle while frequently the work of God is going on quietly, naturally, right before our eyes.

This week, we will see the sign, or look for the flash?

The Parable of the Lost Tree Ornament

2011-12-17T00:03:00.001-05:00

My friend Amy Durham and I go back at least a decade--maybe more. She puts the multi into multi-talented: mother of three, wife of one, musician, teacher, and writer of “paranormal teen fiction.” She’s J.K. Rowling waiting to be found, only better. Amy is a charter member of the Vineyard Writer’s Group in my hometown (no, you don’t have to go to the Vineyard to join in). Every couple of weeks she shows up and dazzles us with her work, plus plenty of encouragement and direction for the rest. I’m thrilled you get to meet her. She blogs here and tweets there.

Tonight my two youngest sons and I put the Christmas tree up. It’s a joyous time of course, as little folks always get excited about the holiday decorations. As they were pulling the ornaments from the box and sticking them on the tree with great speed, I began to wonder… “Where is my nativity ornament?” It’s a nice little wooden ornament, carved from one thin piece of wood to look like Mary and baby Jesus. To anyone else it might seem ordinary, nothing all that special. It has no sparkly stuff, no bright colors, nothing that would set it apart from the other beautifully crafted ornaments in my supply. But I remember buying that ornament at Marlow Woodcuts in Americus, Kansas. I remember walking through the shop, staring in awe at the intricate carvings--both large and small--created by the craftspeople there. I remember the very special people I was with on the day I bought that ornament. I remember the picture my then-boyfriend (now-husband) and I posed for outside the shop that afternoon.

It took some time, and some digging in the ornament box, but I finally came across that little nativity ornament. I hung it, as I always do, in a place about eye-level for me, so that when I walk past the tree I can glance over at it, think about that place, that day, those people. I gave it a place of honor.

I didn’t shout “I found it” when I located it near the bottom of the box, though there was a part of me that wanted to. Because for all its ordinariness and nothing-specialness, I was so happy to see it, to touch it, to place it on my tree.

There are hundreds of little moments like that in my life, in your life, in everyone’s life: when a lost item is found, when something we thought was long gone is suddenly there in front of us. There’s a little spark of joy that ignites inside us in those moments, a smile that begins somewhere in the vicinity of our hearts and spreads outward. The joy of finding never really goes away, no matter how many times something goes missing, only to be found again.

I imagine it’s just that way for the Father, multiplied about a million times over, when he “finds” another lost one. I imagine the spark of joy in his heart is more like an inferno of delight when another person comes to know Him in that redeeming, life-changing way. In just the same way that I experienced excitement at finding that ornament, I believe the Father’s smile beams bright and brilliant each time His love captures a new heart. And just like I remember the day I bought that ornament, the people I was with, the picture that we took that day, the Father’s intimate knowledge of each heart gives Him the same opportunity for those sweet memories to bloom.

He illustrates this for us in Luke 15:8-10, where He describes a woman who searches the whole house over for a lost coin, inviting her neighbors to come rejoice with her after she finds it. Even though she had nine other coins, her joy at finding the one that was lost inspired a party!

Those people who frustrate me: like the person who blocks the entire aisle at the grocery store to stop and have a lengthy conversation with someone else, the kid who despite my best efforts will not be quiet and respectful in my classroom, anyone with the last name Kardashian who bombards the media with materialism and self-interest--all of these people create the same joy in the Father’s heart that my little wooden Christmas tree ornament created for me. I remind myself of this often, that my perspective on people is not the only one that matters, if it matters at all. Because there is a smile in the Father’s heart that is reserved for just those folks, and His smile at finding them will be even more brilliant than the one I had when I hung that ornament on my tree.

The Four Lessons from Joseph of Nazareth

2011-12-15T00:01:00.000-05:00

We get the Christmas story from the scriptures. What we know of the birth of Jesus comes to from the inspired words of the gospels. These passages, found in the first two chapters of Matthew and Luke, are some of the most well-known Bible verses in history.

Like countless other believers around the world, as I prepare for the Christmas season I will read these passages again and again. They are familiar and comforting, and perhaps that’s the problem: because I have come to these passages so often, I am tempted to think that there is nothing new for the Holy Spirit to reveal through these words. That would be a mistake, because the Bible narrative of the birth of Christ is not only inspired storytelling but also useful for training in right relationship with God. What better way to prepare for Christmas than to go deeper in our relationship with the Father?

The birth narratives--like all scripture--are food for students of Jesus. These passages are filled with challenges to our faith, and filled with the encouragement we need to grow in God. Today I would like to share just four observations from the life of Joseph of Nazareth, the man trusted by God to raise the Savior of the world.

1). Poor Joseph--God didn’t get his approval before acting. Can you imagine the real-life shock of these words: “Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit.” (Matthew 1: 18) Mary received an angelic visitation and the overshadowing of the Holy Spirit. Joseph received the worst news of his life. God “drafted” Joseph into a difficult position--would the Almighty ever do the same to us? Have we ever considered the implications of God’s sovereignty? If we affirm that we belong to him are we willing to be drafted as Joseph was?

2). The narrative reveals the actions of a righteous man. In his confusion and pain, Joseph’s first concern was for Mary, he “did not want to expose her to public disgrace.” (1: 19) How many of us would have this priority? Perhaps this is why the scripture labels Joseph a “righteous man.” Scripture is demonstrating what true righteousness looks like in action. It’s revealing as well that the scripture describes Joseph's righteousness not in terms of his relationship to God, but in terms of his relationship to Mary. True righteousness extends two directions--toward God and man.

3). Joseph resisted the urge to act rashly. Even in his concern for Mary and her reputation he was still determined to divorce her (in modern terms, "break the engagement"). Yet the narrative reveals that he took time to consider his actions. When Joseph was faced with the impossible, he did not rush to judgment. The scriptures do not indicate how long he waited, but he took time to consider his actions. And in that period of time, Joseph positioned himself to hear from God in a most unusual manner:

4). God gave Joseph a dream, a dream that would change his life forever. “An angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, ‘Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife.’” This must’ve been some dream, or Joseph must’ve been some righteous man, or both. Engagement, unexpected pregnancy, and an out-of-this-world explanation would be enough to give anyone dreams. But God chose a dream as the means to provide divine direction, and Joseph recognized the dream as God’s personal leading. In fact, dreams are mentioned no fewer than four times in Matthew 1 & 2. I believe scripture is teaching us that God can and does guide his children through dreams. Imagine: in an emotionally charged situation, just when we would be tempted to ignore our dreams as a product of our subconscious, God is present: leading, directing, and guiding--through dreams. By the way, there is no indication that Joseph heard anything else from God until after the baby was born. He remained faithful to God’s instructions for months, all based on one dream!

The Christmas season offers an opportunity to anyone who would become a student of Jesus. Can we imagine ourselves in these situations? Between Matthew and Luke's gospels the cast of Christmas characters is pretty large: Mary, Joseph, Elizabeth, Zechariah, Simeon, Anna, the Magi and shepherds. They are the stuff of Christmas pageants, and cheesy dramas. They are also the stuff of God’s instruction to his disciples.

Monday's Meditation: When the Right Answer is Not Enough

2011-12-12T00:01:00.003-05:00

Hiding inside the Christmas story are a thousand meditations. God reveals his ways. He’s faithful. He’s sneaky. He’s a risk-taker, he is unpredictable, he hides his work in plain sight, he comes right on time yet it’s when you least expect it. A teenage girl in the story observed, “he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty.”

This year my favorite Christmas meditation regarding the ways of God? It’s not enough to get the right answer.

Matthew’s gospel tells the familiar story of three outsiders who find their way into the very presence of God even while the religious experts of Israel demonstrate surprisingly little regard for discovery:

Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the east came to Jerusalem, saying, "Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him." When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him; ⁴and assembling all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Christ was to be born. They told him, "In Bethlehem of Judea, for so it is written by the prophet:

"'And you, O Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,

are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;

for from you shall come a ruler

who will shepherd my people Israel.'"

Then Herod summoned the wise men secretly and ascertained from them what time the star had appeared. And he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, "Go and search diligently for the child, and when you have found him, bring me word, that I too may come and worship him." After listening to the king, they went on their way. And behold, the star that they had seen when it rose went before them until it came to rest over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy. And going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh. And being warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed to their own country by another way.

The story is so familiar we could be excused for missing one of those meditations hiding inside the narrative we know so well.

Have you ever noticed? These rich pagan astrologers had only the faintest understanding of the birth of a new King, yet they traveled great distances to pay him homage. As they neared their destination they stopped at the center of Israel’s religious life and asked the “experts” for help. The experts answered the question correctly, but not one of the scholars packed his bag and went with the Magi.

These Magi, strangers to the the covenant of Moses, were willing to act on the merest bit of information. They traveled far. The chief priests and scribes, who had all the revelation of Israel at their fingertips, would not even travel six miles to worship their own Messiah.

It’s not enough to get the right answer. The know-it-alls did not find their way to the feet of the Christ child.

The Parable of the Incomprehensible Parable

2011-12-10T02:20:00.001-05:00

Jennifer Luitwieler is my cyber-buddy. I'm pretty sure we could BFF's if I liked to run long distances at the expense of great personal pain, but I don't so we aren't. She's intelligent, unpredictable, and for some reason known only to her, has chosen to make her home in Oklahoma. I'm hoping the seven readers of Students of Jesus will not hold that against her. She's the author of Run With Me: An Accidental Runner and the Power of Poo. (I told you: unpredictable. And no, I will not run with her). She also has a unpredictable blog, or you can follow her on the Twitter.

When Ray asked for reflections on the parables, I thought he couldn’t have given an easier assignment. Those of us who grew up marinating in scriptures might feel like those particular wells have been mined dry. I thought I would dash off a few luminous paragraphs and let the people stand in silent awe. Then I did the goofy thing. I chose a parable that’s always been a challenge for me to wrap my puny human brain around.

Luke 19:11-27 always throws me for a loop. The long and the short of it is that a wicked ruler was leaving his estate to be awarded a new kingdom. His servants disliked him so much they campaigned against him. But he still got the job. Before he left, he entrusted some money to a few servants, mandating they take care of what was his. Two servants invested the money and earned a return. One servant held onto the cash and returned it to the master when he arrived home.

Every time I read this passage, I think the ending will change. I cross my fingers and hope that the guy who did as he was instructed, who took care of the money, will be praised. Every time, at the end, I’m hit with a bucket of cold reality. I want to stomp my foot because that is just not fair.

I don’t get it. I don’t get how the guy who strictly obeyed got the tongue lashing. I don’t get why this unjust man was being given even more to steward. I don’t get the way the parable ends: Jesus tells the disciples that those who have will be given more, and those who have nothing will be stripped even of that.

What the what?

Parables are designed to be tough lessons disguised as palatable stories about a friend. You know, where Jesus tells us something sort of ugly about the human condition but it’s easier to digest because we’re given a little word picture. Like a spoonful of sugar with the Nyquil. Parables are meant to be comprehensible. There’s a beginning, a middle and an end. A good guy. A bad guy. A lesson. Even a way to make it not about us, if we try hard enough.

There are two strategies we can employ to help us with scripture we don’t understand. We can use my old stand by: chosen ignorance. I used to avoid this parable, precisely because it remained to resolutely incomprehensible. If I just pretended it wasn’t there, then I didn’t have to worry about what it meant. That is a tried and true strategy, one that many of us have in our toolboxes. Problem is, it won’t work forever.

The other strategy we can use, one which proves worthwhile in uncovering scriptural truths, is to actually….study it. Which is why I chose to focus on this parable; because I needed to struggle with it. I read the parable in context, in Luke, just prior to the triumphal entry into Jerusalem. I flipped around looking at words and phrases, chasing sentences on the rabbit path in the garden of God’s word.

Guess what? I still don’t understand it. I’m still wrestling with this passage. And that’s a good thing. God is big enough to handle my doubt. Thankfully, he is so strong that my understanding is not required for my redemption. He is able to withstand my perplexity. The more time I spent thinking about this passage, the more drawn into his Word I became, never a bad thing. In this case, I continue on the path toward understanding, choosing not to ignore the things I just don’t get. Because God is big enough to wrestle.

Was Jesus Numerically Challenged?

2011-12-08T00:43:00.003-05:00

A few days ago I stumbled across a sentence that has absolutely captured my attention. It’s from the blog of a nationally-known Evangelical pastor. The sentence is part of a longer blog post, and as such is not meant to stand entirely on its own, yet it set the stage for the rest of the post that celebrated what God had done in the past and the lessons the pastor had learned in the first 15 years of ministry. Near the very beginning of his post, he said:

“The fact that we’ve grown to over 12,000 people worshiping and serving each Sunday at 14 locations in four states is proof of God’s grace.” ~ A Nationally-known Evangelical Pastor

I read the quote several times. It bounced around in my head, making noise like two random and unrelated piano keys struck at the same time. I couldn’t read the rest of the article. Instead, I pasted the sentence on to my facebook and Twitter pages and asked my friends for their reactions. Here are a few samples:

It sounds like a dangerous presumption.
Yes, I do think it's by God's grace, but it sounds more like "12k people! 14 locations! 4 states! Ergo, I AM AWESOME!" Somebody's big fat ego peeked out behind what was probably a sincere attempt at giving God the glory, which is His alone. Darn.
The fact that I run circles around everyone shows that God is good. WhatdoyathinkofmeNOW?
Jesus only had a handful of people, no building, and no cash. How sad that by Western standards, he didn't do a great work.
More needs to be known . . . The numbers might be good, and might not be.
It sounds like a guy who wishes he could cage fight Jesus :)
The proof of God's grace is what the 12,000 people are doing Monday through Saturday.
Numbers alone are only proof of crowds gathering.
That quote isn't universally true, but it may very well be true of their situation. Numbers alone don't tell the whole story.

Now I’m asking for your help in sorting out my thoughts, which are a varied a bag of Skittles. Here, taste a few colors:

I’ve never met the megachurch pastor quoted above, but I believe him to be sincere. I trust his motives even if I do not understand his methods. The religious world of Christianity is filled with its share of competition and jealousy--I’m sure this man has been criticized unfairly and been the envy of others. I also wonder how he can appeal to a numeric accounting of the grace of God.

The Father isn’t against big numbers, because he loves the whole world, and that’s a pretty big number. On the day of Pentecost 3,000 were added to the church in a single day. That’s a pretty big number. John the Revelator looked into the heavens and saw the angelic host of heaven, “myriads of myriads, ten thousand times ten thousands.” According to my calculations that comes to, uh, give me a moment, uh . . . a pretty big number. God can count. He numbers the hairs on my head and calls the starry host into the night sky one by one. The biggest megachurch is yet to come, and I’ll be there without complaint.

Yet Jesus went about changing the world in a remarkably small way. A short life, few followers, and a handful of seed at the end. The resurrected Lord tossed the seed into the ground and said, “I’m outa here.” He left eleven un-cultured leaders, perhaps 120 people, no budget, no map, and no plan except “make disciples and teach them to obey.” The only asset they possessed was an imperishable seed. Any worldly accounting considered Jesus a failure and the ragtag collection of followers no threat to Jewish society, much less the nations of the world. Only in hindsight do we see the wisdom and grace of God revealed.

One of the largest churches in history was the Hagia Sophia, in Istanbul, Turkey. Built for the glory of God in the 5th century, it housed Christian worship for a thousand years--until it became a mosque for 500 years. Today it is a museum. I’m pretty sure it’s a parable that’s been told very slowly. Thirty years ago the Crystal Cathedral in Garden Grove, California welcomed 10,000 worshippers and more than two million viewers each week. This year it filed for bankruptcy in its 46 million dollar debt.

Jesus didn’t do arithmetic. He did the higher level math. He engaged in human alchemy and turned human beings into living stones. He built good foundations and let the centuries gently press down on his church. The church he built will never change hands. It’s the only church that will last.

It’s the model I want to follow. I want to be the seed that falls into the ground and finds good soil. If I impact 30, 60, or a 100 people during my lifetime I’ll consider it a fruitful life.

Can you help me sort through these thoughts? What is your opinion? What kind of church is evidence of the grace of God?

Monday's Meditation: His Plan, Our Choice

2011-12-05T00:43:00.004-05:00

More than any other Bible event, the birth of Jesus bursts with prophetic destiny. The plan of the ages came to pass with the command of God as he enacted his divine strategy to save the world. The hope of the world would finally come to life in Bethlehem. Yet in our celebration of God’s redemptive plan we can often overlook the volitional role played by two everyday people who were ambushed by the grace of God.

What if Mary had said, “No, thank you” to the glad tidings delivered by Gabriel? What if Joseph followed through with his plan to divorce Mary and get on with his the rest of his life? Have we ever considered the possibility that either of them could’ve declined the honor? Most important: have we ever considered the risks endured by God Himself when he decided to use people in his plan?

Meditation is a path to understanding and insight. The creative and patient heart can discover the whispers of the Spirit just behind the inspired text. The what-if questions cannot be answered, but they are useful in reminding us that our choices matter. They matter before God calls us, when he calls us, and forever after we accept his call. Perhaps most of all, in Mary and Joseph we see the intersection of God’s sovereign will and human choice to embrace his plan.

Mary and Joseph were partners in the grace of God. They did not earn the positions to which they were called. Yet it’s still true that each of them embraced the everyday small choices that positioned them for the call of God. What if Mary had not stayed sexually pure? The sovereign plan of God would have been fulfilled, but in some other Jewish teenager. What if Joseph had decided not to listen to the angelic instruction and instead divorce Mary? The Father in Heaven would certainly have found a step-father before the birth of the Christ child. Or have we lulled ourselves into thinking that Mary and Joseph had no choice in God's great destiny for mankind?

Behind the text lay questions worth asking: How did Mary become the kind of person who could say yes with a whole heart? How did Joseph mature into a man who could make space and time to hear from God even in the face of his personal shock and pain? How could someone as deliberative as Joseph also be decisive when it came to protecting the Christ child from a murderous despot?

These questions are not about whether rule-keeping “qualified” or “disqualified” either of them, but rather what manner of life enabled them to discover and lay hold of God’s greatest design for them--and coincidentally, God’s greatest design for humanity. (There is a second lesson that we are who we are not only for ourselves, but for countless others unseen, but that’s for another day.)

While we can only speculate the answers such provocative questions, we can discover the deep truth that God does not treat human beings as mere puppets in the redemptive story. Any God gentle and caring enough to sacrifice his own son for a wicked world does not seem the type to force the hand of an unsuspecting couple in the tiny town of Nazareth. God the Father showed faith in them, and like all acts of faith, these divine choices were made at great risk. The sovereign God entrusted his son and his plan to very human agents. In you and me, he does so still today.

Parable to Make a King Cry

2011-12-03T00:02:00.000-05:00

Welcome to week three of a new feature at Students of Jesus. Each Saturday you'll meet a guest-posting genius holding forth on one of the 46 parables found in the gospels. Despite popular opinion, parables were not simple stories told to make things easy to understand. Jesus used parables to shake our world view, and perhaps occasionally to destroy the wisdom of the wise. Come wrestle with us.

Jason Hood is that rarest of God's creation: a deep-thinking theologian who writes with style and good humor. He's also a bit of a contrarian, because he submitted an Old Testament parable, but we'll allow it because apparently Jesus read the Old Testament--who knew? Jason is a graduate of Rhodes College, Reformed Theological Seminary, and Highland Theological College and the University of Aberdeen. Jason works as Scholar-in-Residence and director of Christ College Residency Program at Christ UMC. He blogs at SAET, or you can follow him at twitter.com/jasonbhood.

Sometimes we treat the parables of Jesus as if they are simply putty for our fidgeting hands, sculpting their message however we wish. But that’s not the point of parables.

No parable does more to disabuse us of this approach than the parable Nathan tells David. I’m sure you know the story from 2 Samuel 11. King David should be leading the nation, but he’s not. He checks out porn and commits adultery (maybe rape). His target gets pregnant. Her husband is too good to take time off from the battle to enjoy her, so David resorts to murder: he arranges for a catastrophic military action that kills this good man and those he had the misfortune of standing next to him. As the dust settles, he shrugs and “encourages” his general with this gem of a line: “Hey, it's war. The sword sometimes gets people.”

Actually, it’s sin that kills people, spoils relationships, steals love and cars and reputations. And because we sin, we sometimes need a parable or two to kick us down to our knees in repentance.

Perhaps we could try this one: “There was a local pastor, and about all he had was his reputation. He took a few stands you didn’t agree with. And you felt it necessary to tear down his reputation and make him look little and ignorant in the eyes of more enlightened Christians...”

Maybe it’s not really a parable. But it’s a kick-in-the-teeth, and sometimes we need really hard words.

In the next chapter, God sends Nathan the prophet to David to tell him just such a parable. A rich guy with loads of sheep and cattle steals a wonderful little ewe lamb loved by another man, and kills him for good measure. David is incensed and demands that the man die.

Imagine Nathan the prophet's words in 12:7-10 being read by Samuel L. Jackson. “You ‘da man, David! You killed a man, David! I gave you all Israel and Judah—I’d have given you more! But No! You had to have that little ewe lamb!”

David gets it. He immediately confesses. At some point he writes Psalm 51 and promises to become a missionary (literally--read verses 13-15). Here's the sign of true religion: a broken and contrite heart. Not a good defense attorney. No cover-up, spin, image control; there’s no hitting refresh on our moral track record. There’s nothing to put to use but knees and lips.

Parables like Nathan’s only work if they kick us in the teeth, shaking us out of our rhythm of self-assurance and the complacence of immorality. And when they work as intended, they have a lasting impact. Note what happens to David and Bathsheba. According to 1 Chronicles 3, they name their third child Nathan. (Admit it: you thought genealogies were boring!)

I’ve never heard of a man naming a child after a pastor who kicked his butt. But maybe we need to revisit that trend, just like we need to revisit the parables.

The Ongoing Mystery of Incarnation

2011-12-01T00:02:00.002-05:00

If you think you're not qualified to represent God, you’re just the kind of person he’s looking for.

God entrusted the care of his creation to two people: Adam and Eve. When Creation was threatened by unbridled wickedness, he entrusted life on earth to one man: Noah. When God determined to bless all the nations of the earth, he entrusted his plan for restoration to one man: Abraham. From the very beginning God has chosen to partner with people. God uses people—deeply flawed people. It’s a heck of a way to run a railroad, but after all, he is God.

The book of Exodus not only reveals God’s heart and mind, but also his method: Exodus 3: 7 – 8 depicts God’s compassionate heart and his determination to rescue all of Israel:

The Lord said, "I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering. So I have come down to rescue them from the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey.

God told Moses “I’ve seen, I’ve heard, and I’ve come down to deliver.” Then, just two verses later, God reveals the agent of his deliverance—Moses himself:

So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt. (3:10)

When God is determined to act, he is equally determined to use people. Even the most magnificent act of God, the redemption of the world, required a man. In Jesus, God himself came to earth and became a man. He did not pretend to be human: he became human. When only God could do the job, he still came as a man. The mystery of the Incarnation is that Jesus of Nazareth is 100% God and at the same time 100% man. The humanity of Christ is a theological mystery--and a revelation of God’s way of doing things, all rolled into one.

We should not be surprised that it is so. God has always used people. Moses objected. Jeremiah complained that he was too young. Jonah ran away. Isaiah knew he was unclean. Whatever excuse they were trying to sell, God wasn’t buying. He believes in us even when we do not believe in him.

In fact, part of the scandal of Jesus Christ is that in Christ, the Father by-passed all the “qualified” people and instead assembled the most unlikely team. Working stiffs, tax collectors and prostitutes were his chosen vessels. Religious professionals didn’t make the cut. Even after training his team for three years, they experienced epic failure just when the stakes were the highest. Jesus didn’t care even then. He re-assembled eleven men on a hillside in Galilee and said, “I have accomplished what only God can do; the rest is up to you.”

Our partnership with God begins when we determine to give up our self-assessment and surrender to his promise of who we are in Jesus Christ. The Apostle Paul encourages the church in Rome to see things God’s way:

He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. (Romans 8: 32 – 33)

Singer John Mark McMillan puts it this way: “So what if I’m not worthy? You have made me clean.”

It should not surprise us that God became a man in the person of Jesus. God had been using men to accomplish his work since creation. The mystery of the Incarnation extends beyond the humanity of Christ. The mystery includes you and me.

Monday's Meditation: How Jesus Used Grace

2011-11-28T00:04:00.002-05:00

“If you want to know what the full potential of your life can be, look at Jesus. All that he did during his earthly ministry was done through reliance upon the Holy Spirit. That means we can imitate his example.“ ~ Ray Hollenbach

Yep, I just quoted myself. There’s no better way to underscore one of the central passions of the Students of Jesus blog: if we fail to embrace the humanity of Jesus (along with his God-nature) we are sure to to fall short of our calling to become conformed to his image. For example, have you ever considered the possibility that Jesus himself depended upon the Father’s grace day-to-day?

Our modern, limited view of grace is directly attributable to the separation we see between Jesus and us. We have been schooled regarding his divinity but the lessons stop with respect to his humanity. Without putting it into so many words, we see Jesus cruising through the challenges of everyday life with the ease of walking on water.

Perhaps we are able to recognize the human side of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane, where he cries out in anguish because of the task ahead. We understand the fear of suffering and the desire to avoid it. We understand why Jesus would say, “Father take this cup from me . . . “ but we have no idea how the grace of God helped Jesus to develop into the kind of person who could also say, “ . . . yet not my will, but yours be done.”

If our view of God's grace is limited to receiving forgiveness, Jesus cannot be our model for how to receive grace, live in grace, and depend upon grace. Who taught Peter, John, Paul and countless other believers how to live the kind of grace-filled life we see in Acts and the history of the church? How does grace apply to everyday life in a manner that we are conscious of the supply and know how to use it?

If the grace of God is shortened to mean only forgiveness, we are forever trapped in a cycle of sin and grace and more sin again. Where do we see that cycle in the life of Jesus? We cannot see it because it is not there. What is there for us to see is grace in operation when Jesus was tempted in the wilderness, when he wept at the tomb of Lazarus, even when he angrily drove the merchants from the Temple. He is our model for the operation of grace in times of testing, in sorrow, and in every human emotion we face. He said "No" to ungodliness and worldly passions, and lived a self-controlled, upright and godly life in this present age. He can be the author of such grace toward us, because what he has received he freely shares.

The Parable of the Glum Bums

2011-11-26T00:03:00.000-05:00

I'm thrilled to introduce week two of a new feature at Students of Jesus. Each Saturday you'll meet a guest-posting genius holding forth on one of the 46 parables found in the gospels. Despite popular opinion, parables were not simple stories told to make things easy to understand. Jesus used parables to shake our world view, and perhaps occasionally to destroy the wisdom of the wise. Come wrestle with us.

My son, Joe Hollenbach, is an immensely talented writer with a voice all his own. The wellspring of his rich imagination runs deep; you can find a store of refreshing stories at his blog, which has lain dormant for a season--but perhaps you can urge him onward in this pursuit, because the world will be poorer without hearing his stories.

***

I’ll admit it: I’m as self-entitled a person as the world has known.

Only moments after speaking eternal promises to one another and to the Lord, I turned to my new bride as we walked back up the aisle and said, “Just remember, what’s yours is now mine and what’s mine is still mine.” Four years later and she knows I was only half-kidding.

When my Dad asked for a quick-hitter on the parable of my choosing, I hemmed and hawed to myself before admitting the Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard was right up my alley.

The synopsis goes like this: a landowner goes out early in the morning looking for farm hands to toil in his vineyard. He grabs a group of guys, (presumably strapping dudes) establishes their pay and sets them to their task. As the day progresses, the vintner continues to hire more workers: some at noon, more in the afternoon, and even a few right before sundown, at which point he cuts all the hired hands a check of equal pay. This nettled those who toiled since sunrise and they caved to their frustration with fits of grumbles. The landlord tells them to quit griping as they’ve been rewarded with the payment they agreed upon, further explaining it’s no concern of theirs if he decides to be generous with his riches. Read it for yourself, though. Matthew 20:1-16. Don’t worry. I’ll wait for you.

All caught up? Excellent. Let’s dive in.

The obvious (and worn) interpretation of this passage is easily identifiable. It speaks of the goodness of Jesus and his unyielding pursuit to bless all of us. Regardless of when we come to the Lord, he loves us with the same tenacity as the next. It’s an awfully good thing, isn’t it?

But there are so many layers to this parable that just get white-washed. Yes, the concept that Jesus-loves-you-and-wants-you-to-have-nice-things is killer, but what lays beneath the surface level? The part of this passage that most resonates with me is the attitude of the early morning employee. The interaction of those grumblers with the landlord speaks volumes to me, personally. It serves as an admonition to those of us that might let cynicism and self-importance cloud the larger scheme.

In life, I almost always find myself mired in the morning laborer’s frame of mind: Disgruntled, envious, and consumed with concept that the world has it out for me. Like I tell everyone, “I’m an optimist, but I do wear a rain coat.”

If you’re like me, a hopeless Eeyore, I’d like to share what speaks to me from this parable. Trust me; there are plenty of reasons for us to be glad:

To live in God’s economy is to operate in generosity and prosperity – and the Lord’s currency never depreciates. It’s always a good time to buy stock in His love and provision. It’s a limitless wealth. What he gives, and the amount we receive, comes from the generosity of his heart toward us. This is a concept I still cannot fully comprehend. I doubt I ever will. Whenever someone experiences a season of success or reward, I hate to admit it but I have to remind myself to be glad for them. The Kingdom of Heaven is nothing like capitalism, thankfully. The prosperity of others does not come at my expense, yours, or anyone’s.

The master works hard, too - In the narrative, we see the landowner is constantly in motion, morning until dusk, finding new hands – and all of his work is to our benefit! With each addition, the burden lightens and the distribution of the work becomes less daunting for those already in the fold. We are uplifted as the numbers strengthen. This is part of the abundance of Jesus.

Hard work delivers a satisfying harvest – In truth, I’ve not yet found anything more exhausting than being committed to a community of fellow believers. Conversely, nothing else compares to the fruits that the Church delivers. Life is meant to be spent in communion: messy, achy, back-breaking communion. The same people that offend you and wear you down will undoubtedly inspire you and lift you up. Our identity comes into a sharper focus when in healthy communion with God and his children. There’s an inexplicable, twisted symmetry to it all. Delight in it. It’s family-living and it bears a fruit sweeter than any imagining.

His land is beautiful – it’s a quaint observation, but have you ever spent time in a Vineyard? It’s breathtaking. If you haven’t, no worries. Rent A Walk in the Clouds and you’ll understand the beauty. It takes a spirit hell-bent on negativity and a mind eaten alive with self-absorption to not appreciate the glory of God’s creation. To be completely practical, when I feel taken advantage of it puts me off all mirth; I have trouble doing much more than pout. I live in the central Kentucky, surrounded by palatial farm manors, thoroughbreds of dappled chestnut and misty grey, and autumns so deep with reds and oranges they leave you breathless. And yet all these arresting visuals and natural wonders fall aside when I fixate on how the world is out to slight me. When we focus on self-pity, we’re robbing ourselves of the vision of His Kingdom.

November is a great month to re-order your perspective. Some people prefer the start of a new year for drastic endeavors, but Thanksgiving demands reflection upon the good and decent endowments in our lives. I hope you’ll all take this holiday weekend as an opportunity to commit to gratitude and gladness.

Six Dubious Evangelical Lessons of Thanksgiving

2011-11-24T00:10:00.001-05:00

Actual Pilgrim photo from 1621

I’ve seen a few Thanksgivings in my day. In fact, Thanksgiving is my day--I was born on Thanksgiving in 1955 (please, no turkey jokes). Here are six valuable lessons from the most Christian holiday left in America, which has officially changed it’s name to Black Friday Eve. If used correctly they could set Evangelicalism back 400 years.

1). Thanksgiving is the only Christian holiday that does not require going to church. Unless you’re a pilgrim. Modern Christians are surprised to discover that Pilgrim services routinely lasted four hours or more, which made watching the Detroit Lions game extremely difficult (this is why the Cowboys are America’s Team--they always play the late game). Actually, Evangelicals used to gather at their house of worship the fourth Thursday each November but when the megachurch movement sprang up in the 1970’s, Bill Hybels, Robert Schuller and Jerry Falwell met secretly and signed the Mayflower Compact, which guaranteed that all church services should last no more than 59 minutes. Now, entire Evangelical services have been whittled down to the same length as the original Thanksgiving prayer.

2). Be careful what traditions you start, because they may stick around 390 years. Wives and Moms know what I’m talking about: in 1621 Myles Standish, William Bradford, and Abraham Lincoln told their wives they had invited a few friends over to help them invent football. Twenty minutes later Chief Massasoit and 90 of his friends showed up expecting a meal. Ever since that day, women cook for a week in advance because they are thankful it took another 299 years before the NFL was founded.

3). Pilgrim fashion was even more strict than their morality. You couldn’t wear white after Labor Day, and after Thanksgiving you had to wear black until spring. The “Black Winter-wear Rule,” as it came to be known, was dropped soon after relationships with Native Americans deteriorated, because black clothing against a snowy background made too good of a target. Also, Pilgrims had the gift of prophecy and foresaw the Goth movement. However, because white was forbidden, everyone compromised on grey. 390 years later, it turns out Native American fashion wins out: Christian hipsters sport piercings, tattoos and faux-hawks (and you thought feathers in your hair was just a fad).

4). Squanto’s biggest contribution to the Plymouth Colony was teaching the British how to carve a turkey. History books will try to tell you that Squanto educated the settlers about fishing, farming, and fashion, but the real story is too ugly for family conversation. Let’s just say it involves British gentlemen who left their butlers back in England: they mutilated the poor turkey so badly that everyone went hungry their first winter in the New World.

5). Pilgrim spirituality is the reason we have on-line giving today. It’s no secret the Plymouth Colony was big into tithing: nine potatoes for you, and one for the Almighty. People who wanted to cheat on the tithe were easy to spot because they weighed more than everyone else. There was no hiding your prosperity--or your posterior. It took a few centuries, but we’ve finally discovered the most private way to give: on-line.

6). The debate continues over whether the Pilgrims were True Evangelicals. I’ll settle this: Pilgrims couldn’t have been Evangelicals because their sermons did not contain three points, each beginning with the same letter. Pilgrim preachers started with “A” and used the whole alphabet--for their introduction. Also, their worship sets lacked the punch we’ve come to expect--but not for lack of effort. The Pilgrims introduced theater-style lighting in their services but the 500 colored candles burned down their first three sanctuaries. Another Pilgrim came up with the idea using fog to set a worshipful mood, but they had to wait for bad weather to roll in from the bay. It resulted in no worship at all from May through September and set the Evangelical movement back 250 years until D.L. Moody adapted his method of selling shoes into what we now call “Evangelism.”

Personally, I’ll always love Thanksgiving because I’m still deeply connected to its spiritual roots. Did I mention that this year my birthday also falls on Thanksgiving? You can send your gifts FedEx Express--they deliver on Holidays. I’ll be even more thankful this year.

Monday's Meditation: What I Saw at Church

2011-11-21T00:10:00.000-05:00

Yesterday at church I saw heaven breaking into earth here and now.

I saw signs and wonders: children in sparkling tennis shoes that flashed multicolored lights as they danced in worship. I saw a four year-old offensive lineman soaking in the Spirit of Christ, unaware of how strong his body will grow or how he will use it to glorify God. I saw the Woodstock generation worshipping next to generations unborn. I saw the unlovely, enraptured by the bridegroom and made beautiful by the sight of of him. They became beautiful in my sight as well. I saw a rage-oholic find peace as he stood in the back of the room. He drank it in--the only peace he knows each week--in the Father's presence.

I heard voices normally used in the everyday business of life blended together in the unison of praise. Voices which sang without words, making new paths of melody, expressing what their hearts knew but their minds did not. I heard songs so new that no one had ever heard them but the singer herself, followed by the songs of saints dead a hundred years or more. I heard the sound of heaven surge through tongues, lungs, and throats of flesh and blood, like fountains made pure by the very water they released.

I tasted bad coffee. It was somehow made better because it was shared in common. I savored the sacred elements of donuts and fruit, muffins and juice, sanctified by people receiving the sacrament of family. I tasted and saw that the Lord is good.

I caught the fragrance of the unwashed who had been embraced by the Rose of Sharon. I discovered that his aroma overpowers theirs: the aroma of life to those who are being saved, and the stench of death nowhere in the place.

I heard the Holy Spirit whisper secrets to the pastor, who announced them to the church. I watched as the people miraculously flashed the inspired words around the world even before the sermon had ended. I saw sojourners who had no home find a place to call home, if only for an hour.

I saw in the church the fulness of him who fills every thing in every way. I discovered the pillar and support of the truth as they put the wisdom of God on display--not for themselves, but for the powers and principalities in heavenly places--unaware they were being watched.

Yesterday at church I touched all these things and more. What did you see?

The Parable of Missing the Point

2011-11-19T00:07:00.000-05:00

I'm thrilled to launch a new feature at Students of Jesus. Each Saturday you'll meet a guest-posting genius holding forth on one of the 46 parables found in the gospels. Despite popular opinion, parables were not simple stories told to make things easy to understand. Jesus used parables to shake our world view, and perhaps occasionally to destroy the wisdom of the wise. Come wrestle with us.

Sarah Cunningham is a disarming person. She describes herself as a "skinny white girl," but behind the self-deprecation are observant eyes and a sharp mind. She's the internationally-known author of two books and one child, who apparently rules the household. You can find her work at Amazon or at her website, SarahCunningham.org.

When Ray asked a group of us to talk about parables, my mind immediately raced to the familiar parable of the talents found in Matthew 25.

This came to mind first for less than noble reasons. Not because I’m particularly inspired by the message, but because I’m particularly un-inspired by the way Sunday School tends to deliver the message up.

You know the story, as it starts in verse 14.

The master has to go to a far off place, so he leaves his servants with “talents”—talents being not “skills”, as we read the word, but an ancient unit of money.

The master then returns and—good news—two of the servants have invested wisely and doubled their money. But the third guy buried his in an apparent fit of paranoia, and didn’t do squat with what he was given.

The traditional telling I’ve heard umpteen times, and maybe you’ve heard too, is don’t bury your talent. Let it shine. If it’s told in Sunday School, it wraps neatly into a segué to This Little Light of Mine.

But this telling short-changes the actual passage, in my only-sometimes-humble opinion, and is a good example of how we sometimes accidentally flatten the Scriptures by pulling verses out of context and wielding them like individual fairy tales.

Panning out to the bigger picture gives us an expanded reading that is way more compelling and impressive than the two-bit morality tale.

Consider the following clues:

Matthew is writing this book to a Jewish audience to try to convince them that Jesus is the Messiah they’ve been waiting for. That’s why, in Chapter 1, he starts the genealogy with Abraham and builds forward through King David to Jesus. Hint, hint, Jews. Follow the family tree.
Right before this parable, organized in the same chapter, is the parable of the ten virgins. Just like the servants were awaiting their master, this story too is about people awaiting a man, the Bridegroom. And just like in the talent story, some of the people are prepared for the Bridegroom to come (they have oil), but some are caught unprepared
Right after this parable is another story about people who were or were not prepared to recognize what was important. The king praises some for caring for the disadvantaged, saying that when they did this, it was as if they were caring for the king himself. Once again, though, there are some who looked at the disadvantaged and never took the opportunity to care for the king.
The parable of the talents ends with the Master separating the servants. Two are praised and told to enter into the joy of the Lord. The other one is sent out to the place where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. This seems like a subtle clue that something more than talent, something eternally big, is at stake in the story.

When we put all this together, I begin to doubt that the parable is about using your talent for God at all.

I think Matthew—who wanted to convince the Jews Jesus was the long awaited Messiah—told three stories in a row about people who missed the King for an entirely different reason.

The Jews were missing Jesus right in front of them.

And that’s why in verse 29, he says that some of the people who “have” (the carriers of the faith, “chosen” Israel?) will lose.

Even though I think the “don’t bury your talent” in the ground version is cute, and metaphorically a wise principle, it frustrates me because it ends with the wrong question.

I don’t think we’re supposed to read Matthew 25 and ask ourselves if we’re using our talent for God.

Or at least I don’t think that’s the main thing.

I think we should ask ourselves if we—the carriers of the faith, the modern day church—and our religious practices are so empty that we wouldn’t see Jesus if he was starving right in front of us.

How to Love God

2011-11-17T21:53:00.002-05:00

Monday’s Meditation was downright belligerent. After quoting the first and greatest commandment, to love the Lord our God with our heart, soul, mind and strength, I had the temerity to ask, “Yes, but how exactly do you go about doing that?”

The Bible-quoters were among the first to respond. It’s a good place to start: “He who has my commandments and keeps them, he it is who loves me . . .” (John 14: 23) I memorized this verse when I was in college. It seems to indicate that Jesus measures our love by how well perform (“Really?” says Jesus. “You love me? Then why don’t you start acting like it?”) Keeping the Law is what the Father wants, isn’t it? Don’t eat that fruit; go where I show you; sacrifice your son; here are ten big ones; here are 603 more--until finally I begin to wonder if it will ever be enough to keep him happy. That’s how you keep him happy, right? This verse is straight forward: it tells us exactly what to do, whether we feel like it or not. Still, doesn’t love involve feelings along with will-power?

The worshippers responded, too. They remind us of the woman who shed tears on His feet, and dried them with her hair. Jesus tells everyone that this woman displayed “great love.” She’s not the only one: another woman lavished expensive perfume at his feet. John, “the disciple whom Jesus loved,” rested his head on Jesus’ chest and heard his Lord’s secrets. Forget decorum. Forget the rules. Worshippers break through social barriers to grab him, kiss him, and generally make a scene. They don’t care. They have to be close. I respect passion; I wish I were more passionate. Yet I’ve seen many a passionate person veer wildly off course, led astray by those same passions. It’s not enough to feel things deeply if your mind and habits do not shape you into his likeness.

One final group said learning to love God is like any other relationship: we invest our time and attention. Husbands and wives grow to know each other over the years; so we learn to love God. This resonates with me as well: who could get to know God in a day? Perhaps love is more a learned behavior than anything else. I thought I loved my wife when I married her, only to discover I had a Kindergarten-version of love. In 27 years I’ve discovered just how deeply selfish I am. I’ve had to learn how to deny myself on behalf of my beloved--how much more with God? And yet (one more time) it seems that familiarity can become a way of life, apart from love, where we discover a comfortable identity that has very little to do with real love.

So how, exactly, do we love him?

I’ve discovered one passage of scripture that speaks to all three of these models. You might roll your eyes in disbelief when I tell you. You will think, “how cliché” when I point toward 1 Corinthians 13 as our model for loving God. But it has served me well: as child I received this passage as a description of God’s love for me. Later I saw it as a model for how to love others. Now it has become the Spirit’s leading on how to love God in return.

If I speak in the tonguesof men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. ~ No ministry model, whether charismatic or socially aware can replace the need for me to love the Father. How many times have I replaced my love of God with my love of ministry? It would embarrass me to tell you.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. ~ How many times have I proudly stamped my feet before God, impatient for him to act? I’ve been angry with God, because after all, isn’t he responsible for everything? I finally had to ask, do I trust him? Jonathan Martin, pastor of Renovatus Church in Charlotte, NC, said, “Everything in my life changed when I finally stopped being suspicious of God.” How could we suspect the motives of the One we love?

Where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part,but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. ~ Love is all that will last between the Father and me. There will be no need for ministry in heaven. My insights will mean nothing. And finally, I will know what love is.

I have faith in him. I hope in him, and greatest of all, by his grace, I am learning to love him.

Ritual Meal, Ritual Life

2011-11-17T06:57:00.001-05:00

Happy Thursday, everyone! Today I’m guest-posting over at the site of the irrepressible Jennifer Luitwieler, who’s been running a series on Ritual.

That means I‘m saving my regular Thursday post until later this evening, so why not visit her site right now, and then check back here this evening? Peace!

Monday's Meditation: The Greatest Meditation

2011-11-14T00:01:00.000-05:00

You should have seen the blank faces staring back at me, nearly 30 of them. I might as well have asked the class, “Quick! what’s the cube root of 1,117?”

We had been discussing the first and greatest commandment: “The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’” Jesus provided a bonus answer, not demanded by his questioner: “The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.”

Here's how the question came about: after an hour’s discussion of the text in Mark 12: 28-31, I wanted to end the class on a practical note, so I asked, “OK, then. We have discovered the two most important legacies of the Old Testament. So tell me: how do we demonstrate our love for God?” The room fell silent. Not even the crickets dared make a sound.

I drove home from class wondering, “could it be that difficult? Has Jesus left us no clue regarding how to show our love for God?”

Perhaps the students in my little class had never considered the question. Could that be? I teach a college religion course in a small southern town where “everyone” goes to church. Has there been no Sunday school class, no Bible study, no sermon ever addressed at the question, how do we love God? This question is more than a meditation for the coming week. It is the question of our lives. It is the question of our purpose and being. Have you ever asked yourself this question?

If the entire Old Testament narrative can be reduced to just under 50 words, what answer can we give? What answer must we give? What answers can involve our emotion, personality, intellect and physicality? What answers can include the Creator, whom we cannot see, and our neighbor, whom we can? What answers can give direction to child and grandparent alike? What answers are required of us?

I’m asking because I’ve begun to wonder if we have given ourselves to this question. Perhaps you have given it some thought. Perhaps you will now. Either way, I’ll check the comments below nearly every hour, all week long, curious to know how you express your love for God. We need each other’s answers--what are yours?

Baby Jesus Super-Power

2011-11-10T00:08:00.001-05:00

Never mind what the website says, the worship team at my church starts up at 10:38, A.M. each Sunday morning. It’s true that we’ve always been a chronically late group of believers, but 10:38 is intentional: it comes from Acts 10:38.

“. . . how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and power, and how he went around doing good and healing all who were under the power of the devil, because God was with him.”

Call it our secret code. We want to underscore how Jesus did ministry and try to follow his example.

It’s one of my favorite questions: “How did Jesus do the stuff he did?” If Jesus really is a worthy role model, shouldn’t we imitate him? Jesus healed the sick, multiplied food, cleansed lepers, expelled evil spirits, and raised the dead. He spoke with confidence and authority about the Father’s heart. He modeled a life of grace and peace, lived in concert with the Father’s will. But how did he do these things? Our answer sets the boundaries of our potential under the Master. Popular theologianRicky-Bobby suggests that “Baby Jesus Super-Power” was at work. Unfortunately, Ricky Bobby speaks for far too many of us.

I know what you’re thinking: you’re thinking I threw in the Talladega Nights reference just to be funny. I wish that were true. Just today I read these words from a recent Bible commentary:

As a “superhero,” Jesus has a vast array of superpowers--powers to heal disease, calm storms, defeat the demonic, love the unlovable. But one stands out in this passage: his sheer brilliance.

I wish I was making this up, but no, I read these words in a book from a reputable publisher. Perhaps the chatty, conversational commentator was just trying to accessible, but he places the works, the character and the intellect of Jesus beyond our reach. If Jesus did the things he did because he was the Boss’ son, then his example is no example at all. We can stand amazed without any responsibility to imitate the Master.

The Apostle Peter provided a powerful one-sentence summary of Jesus’ ministry--including the hope that we, too, can be like him. I’d like to suggest at least four paradigm-shifting revelations from this one powerful verse.

1). God the Father anointed Jesus of Nazareth. The concept of God’s anointing is nearly lost in many quarters of the church. Yet Jesus began his ministry with the simple explanation that “the Spirit of the Lord has anointed me” for the tasks before him (Luke 4: 18). Peter simply used the same explanation his Master had used. If Jesus needed the anointing, how much more do we? We need to recover a first-century understanding of anointing. Perhaps then we will recover first-century effectiveness in ministry.

2). Even good works require the Father’s empowerment. Who could be against “doing good?” No one--and that’s the problem. Too often followers of Jesus are reduced to the role of religious social workers because we want do good, even if it’s apart from the Spirit’s guidance or assistance. It is a powerful temptation precisely because we can sally forth in our own understanding and strength, yet still do so in the name of God. Jesus modeled something else: “Very truly I tell you, the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does.” (John 5: 19) Do we see the difference?

3). Jesus saw ministry in the light of spiritual conflict: Peter included the phrase, “all who were under the power of the devil.” All ministry is spiritual warfare. John, the beloved disciple said, “The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the devil’s work” (1 John 3:8). Jesus saw the world as enemy-occupied territory, and no human was ever his enemy. We need Paul’s reminder that in ministry “we do not struggle against flesh and blood.” Yet we do struggle. It pays to know where the fight is.

4). The presence of God makes all the difference. Like the anointing, the concept of doing ministry along with God’s manifest presence is nearly lost in the church today. We have settled too quickly for the omnipresence of God. We mistake orthodoxy for presence. The result is dry and lifeless ministry, yet we assert that because God is everywhere he must be in our works. We presume too much.

Peter followed Jesus day-by-day for three and a half years. He saw effective ministry modeled. He learned first-hand the possibilities of a Man yielded to the Father. He summarized his experience into a single sentence, a sentence so powerful it could transform ministry today.

Monday's Meditation: The Family Likeness

2011-11-07T00:22:00.002-05:00

I don’t particularly like the name, “The Prodigal Son.” It leaves out the family dynamic, because Jesus actually told a story about a father and two sons. Families are funny. The two sons--they had so much in common. (You can find their story here).

The younger son is infamous. He wished his father dead, and said so! The fool was soon parted from his money (was it ever really his money?). Finally, with his back to the pigpen, he devised a humble return to the family farm, even if it was only as a hired hand. Of course, the father would have none of it. He was watching for his boy all along. He wouldn’t even listen to the elaborate deal the younger son proposed. The father celebrated his return and invited everyone to do the same. This much we know.

The older brother is not as famous, but he’s gotten his share of recognition over the centuries as well. He wasn’t happy about the return of his brother. He used the father’s extravagance as fuel for criticism of his Dad.

Like many families today, both boys would be surprised to hear what others saw they had in common. They provide four meditations this Monday:

Both sons failed to grasp their identity: the younger son rejected his role as a son. He tried to “hire on” when he returned, which means he still didn’t see himself as the father’s son. But neither did the older brother. He said to his father “all these years I slaved for you.” (verse 29) Apparently he saw his role as a slave, not a son. Whether this slavery resulted from the expectations of his culture or a poor relationship with the father, we can only guess. Both sons had the unspeakable privilege a blood-bond, but neither could grasp their identity.

Both sons separated themselves from the father: the younger son famously flew the coop, but the older brother was left in the outer darkness beyond the house, hearing only the faint music of celebration in the father’s house. Both did so by their own choice, and for a time both missed out on abundance, feasting, and joy.

Both sons experienced the father’s loving pursuit: while the younger brother was still a long way off the father dropped everything and ran to him. Never was a boy so willingly captured. The older brother saw the silhouette of someone coming out from the house. It was the father, looking for a missing son. He was the kind of father who never forgot either of his boys, even when the party was in full swing. The father would go to nearly any length to welcome them both.

Both sons got to hear the father’s view of their relationship: the younger son was not allowed to demote himself to hired hand. He was a son, and he would always remain so. The older brother got to hear these exquisite words, “My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.” Apparently the father never thought in terms of “inheritance.” He had always viewed everything as belonging to his boys.

If I had the chance to change popular perception of the parable, I would rename it "The Father’s Love," because there’s is no identity apart from the Father. Separation from the Father means darkness for all who choose to distance themselves. The Father’s love breaks every barrier. Best of all, the Father’s heart determines who we are even if we don’t have it quite right.

Love Justice? Love Judgment.

2011-11-03T00:09:00.001-04:00

There are dozens of lawyers in my house at any given moment. You can find most of them in my living room. Whenever I turn on the TV the house suddenly fills with quick-witted sharp-talkers. There’s a crusty old gal who has her legal office in a shoe store; there are earnest, slender young prosecutors who apparently have twin degrees in law and fashion. There’s some old guy named Matlock who must be a hundred years old, but I’m convinced I’ll be dead and buried before his career on cable TV comes to an end.

We don’t even have to pay actors any more. When a high-profile case like Casey Anthony’s comes along, millions of us stop what we’re doing to hear the judgment. That day, in the middle of the afternoon, more than 5 million people tuned into the HLN network to watch. Who even knew there was a HLN network? Another million computers streamed the verdict live via CNN’s website.

Face it: we love lawyers, and we love courtrooms. Important things happen. Books are opened, charges are read, juries are seated. We love the struggle, we love the lies and intrigue, and most of all we love the moment of judgment. The verdict is read, the judgment is given, the gavel comes down and bang! the bad guy is forced to wear ugly orange clothes for the rest of his life, or the good guy is set free, into the embrace of his weeping family.

Judgment Day is great entertainment. One day the sky itself will become a big-screen TV and the ultimate court will be called to session. The people of the world will stand amazed and attentive, because justice will finally be done. And everyone loves justice.

Here is a paradox--everyone is in favor of justice, but few of us are in favor of judgment.

Who could be against justice? We want to see corporate greed called into account. We want to know that evil despots will be tracked down, pulled from their bunkers and made to stand in the light. We want hungry children to be fed; we want sick people to have medicine; we want anything that can be made right to be made right if it is in anyone’s power. And then we stub our toe, because we begin to realize: there is no justice apart from judgment. Someone must bring the gavel down.

Who loves Judgment Day? Those who need a judge to set things right. The poor of the earth are powerless in the face of overwhelming strength. Or greed. Or even intellect--we instinctively know it’s not right for the smart to deceive the slow of wit.

Who cries for justice? The scripture says that the blood of the slain cries out from the ground. A hungry child may not know the right word, but it cries for justice every time it holds out an empty bowl. The Psalms tell us that creation itself will sing and dance at the sound of justice:

Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them;

Let all the trees of the forest sing for joy.

Let all creation rejoice before the LORD, for he comes,

He comes to judge the earth.” (Psalm 96: 12-13)

Even the one who said, “Let him who is without sin throw the first stone” looked forward to the justice of God. Just days before his death, Jesus told a story where wretched people came to a wretched end. He explained his parable by saying, “God’s kingdom is going to be taken away from you and given to a nation that will produce the goods. Anyone who falls on his stone will be smashed to pieces, and anyone it falls on will be crushed.” (Matthew 21: 43-44)

Justice and judgment provide twin challenges for the heart of every student of Jesus.

The first challenge is to connect justice to the judge. God’s friend Abraham asked, “Will not the Judge of the earth do right?” He pleaded for the lives of innocent people by bargaining with God. Along with Abraham, we are shocked to discover how few innocents there were. Although Abraham’s negotiation concluded with ten people, we see God’s heart when he rescued even fewer--the only righteous family in a city of thousands. This story gives us the courage to pray for justice, to pray often, and to trust the Judge will do right--even if we stop too soon.

The second challenge is to work for justice while leaving judgment to the Judge. We are called to share his heart--even some of his authority, but we must know the limits of our calling. Sometimes people who know what is right are the most dangerous among us. We mistake our knowledge for the will of God, and cross the line between representing him and taking action that belongs to him. We need to discover that the work of the cross was also a work of judgment, but the Judge of the earth took the judgment upon Himself. Do we have such a heart? We need to listen to an old man, known as “James the Just”, when he explained judgment will be merciless to the one who has shown no mercy, but mercy triumphs over judgment. (James 2:13)

Tonight I will watch the well-tailored and confident lawyers argue the law. I’ll marvel at their smarts and gimmicks. But I will also feel that faint shudder along my spine that reminds me we are only children, playing a game that will someday be very real, and very different.

Monday Meditation: Complete in Him?

2011-10-31T00:01:00.000-04:00

Back in fifth grade I talked in class--a lot. When saintly Mrs. Wilson reached the limit of her patience, she made me write, “I will not talk in class” one hundred times on the blackboard. It was a classic educational moment. I was so short I needed to use a chair to reach the top of the board. I thought I would never finish. If only they had cut and paste back then! When I returned to school the next day--you guessed it--I still spoke out of turn in class.

The list of things I should not do has grown longer since those days: I should not slap people in the face when they drive me crazy; I should not wager the mortgage money on my lucky Lotto numbers; I should not text in the movie theater (or while driving); and I should not spend as much time as I do cruising the social network. Perhaps you can add to the list of things I should not do.

Don’t bother: I’ve given up trying not to do things. There are several problems with trying not to do things. I have a bad memory for rules, I lack the discipline, and I usually lack the will to follow them.

The Apostle Paul was one of the greatest rule-followers ever, yet he became a messenger of freedom. Imagine a man who had memorized every one of the 614 points of the Old Testament law writing these freedom-filled words:

Since you died with Christ to the basic principles of this world, why, as though you still belonged to it, do you submit to its rules: "Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!"? These are all destined to perish with use, because they are based on human commands and teachings. Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility and their harsh treatment of the body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence. (Colossians 2: 20 - 23)

This same Apostle of freedom had exchanged one kind of teaching for another. As a result, he had but one goal for his converts: that they would resemble Jesus:

“We proclaim him, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone perfect in Christ.” (Colossians 1: 28)

Both passages refer to “teaching.” Both teachings have perfection as the goal, yet the two kinds teaching produce very different results. Part of the the mystery of Paul’s letter to the Colossians revolves around this very issue, and provides the perfect week’s meditation:

What kind of teaching can lead me to perfection in Christ?
What does “perfection” mean?
Is it possible in my life?
What does the Spirit mean when he says “in Him you have been made complete” (Colossians 2:10 - NASB)?

We could spend a lifetime in Paul’s letter to the Colossians looking for answers, but in my experience these questions are rarely asked. Perhaps dwelling on them this week could change the course of your life as a follower of Jesus. Do you dare?

I'm Cured (except I'm still always sick)

2011-10-27T00:01:00.000-04:00

One day my doctor told me I was sick, but I wasn’t sure if I believed him.

“Believe me,” he said. “You’re sick, and you’re going to die without the cure.”

“I don’t feel sick.”

“And you won’t. Right up ‘til when you die.”

It went on like this week after week. He wore me down. Then I took the medicine.

But something strange happened: just about the time I took the medicine I became convinced I was sick. Sure, I took the medicine, because that’s what sick people do. My doctor tried to tell me the medicine had worked.

“OK, then,” he said. “All finished. Off you go. You’re healed.”

“But you told me I was sick.”

“Yes. You were, but now you’re healed.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m sick. You said I would die without the cure.”

“And so you would have. But you took the cure. It did its work. You’re all better. In fact, you’re better than better: it’s exactly like you’re completely new.”

I argued with him for a while because I knew I was sick. Deep down. I’d need the cure every day. Because I’m a sicko. That was 41 years ago, ever since I took the cure. But this is my story, in fact, it’s my song: I’m sick and I’ve taken the cure. I’ll always be sick because that’s what sick people do.

***

All right. Time to come clean. I made that up. Or did I? Because I’ve overheard people who have taken the cure, and they still talk like they’re sick. Perhaps you’ve heard them, too.

“I’m just a sinner saved by grace,” they say (or sing). “There’s nothing good inside of me, I’ll always be a sinner, because that’s what I always do.” I’ve known people who have sung the same song for 40 years. It seems when they agreed with the sin-diagnosis, they apparently thought it described a permanent condition. I know one guy who has memorized Jeremiah 17:9. He apparently made it the signature theme of his walk with God. Funny, I thought the cure included a heart transplant.

Dr. Willard, my family physician, agrees. He warns us against the idea “that the low level of spiritual living among professing Christians is to be regarded as ‘only natural,’ only what is to be expected.” He taught me to reject the notion that our destiny is constant failure and that Christ’s ministry is nothing but unending forgiveness. Many believers have experienced the new birth and are convinced their cosmic state is forever a babe.

We have over-talked about what sin takes away and under-talked about what the Spirit has put in us. Dr. Willard is concerned with more than the cure. True, our life with God must start with the cure, but the possibilities of new life in Christ are--quite literally--endless.

Make no mistake: sin is cancer, and it will kill us in this life and the next. It’s serious business, so the Father has provided a serious remedy. It’s called the new birth. Paul calls it the new creation, Peter calls us new-born babes. We must determine whether these phrases are merely religious metaphors or if they depict a spiritual reality. The image of spiritual birth also contains the hope of spiritual growth. Are we forever trapped within the cancer of sin?

There’s a cure, not just a treatment. Our challenge is how we see Jesus, and for many of us, he is only a treatment. When we limit the work of Jesus to nothing but forgiveness, we lose sight of the possibilities of experiencing a new kind life with him here and now. That would be a shame, because the Cure really does work: not only in the next life but right here in this one as well.

So--how are you feeling now?

Monday's Meditation: The Aroma of Christ

2011-10-24T00:05:00.000-04:00

But thanks be to God, who always leads us as captives in Christ’s triumphal procession and uses us to spread the aroma of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are an aroma that brings death; to the other, an aroma that brings life. And who is equal to such a task? (2 Corinthians 2: 14-16)

Perhaps it’s the smell of donuts and tea, all yeasty and sweet. Or roses: nuanced and subtle, filling the room. Or the smell of baking bread where there should be the stench of burning flesh.

This week’s meditation is an invitation to breathe deep and discover the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Christ. Of course, the Apostle Paul was only using a metaphor, right? The intellectual colossus of Christianity would have never intended we could actually smell the presence of Jesus, would he?

I was away on a business trip last week. My 8 year-old daughter used my Cheerios Tee as a nightshirt, but not before smelling all the T-shirts in the closet because they reminded her of Daddy. We could never remember Jesus like that. Never? Widows tell of opening a dresser drawer and catching the fragrance of their husband long departed. Our brain recalls the decades past by the faintest whiff of a meal we ate as children. We smell the beach before we see the ocean.

Check the commentaries and you’ll find the musty smell of books and study. The commentators will remind you of Roman processions and temples filled with incense. The learned professors will explain these words were the stuff of Paul’s creative metaphor.

But there is another way: you can check the history of the people of God, common folk who have experienced uncommon things:

John the Apostle had a disciple named Polycarp. In 155 A.D. he was arrested and threatened with fire because he loved John’s Master, Jesus. “You threaten fire which burns for an hour and is soon quenched.” he said. “Why do you wait? Come, do what you will!” When the authorities tied him to a stake and set him ablaze, his skin turned golden brown and witnesses smelled the smell of baking bread. Since the witnesses were not theologians they reported their experience and not a metaphor: the aroma of the bread of life.

But who can trust witnesses dead for 18 centuries? Something like that could never happen today.

That’s what I thought until a gnarly old musician, a 60’s throwback who sang worship songs to Jesus came to our little town. Barely 40 people gathered to hear him sing and minister. Yet when he prayed one-on-one for those who stayed until the end, the room swelled with rose-scent, a bouquet of God’s presence right before my very nose. It happened again the next day as I drove him to the airport. Our car filled with perfume as if an alabaster jar had been broken before me.

Still, it’s hard to believe, I grant you. And who could possibly expect it to happen again:

Until one Sunday morning when two rows of worshipers in our church encountered the smell of donuts and tea while they sang and raised their hands, each one sure they were the only ones until one looked at another and said, “This is weird, but do you smell tea?”

Of course, the commentators are right: Paul's words are allusions to the practices of the day. He was merely drawing on the common understanding of his times. But what if Paul also wrote his experiences down? What if there is also a spiritual reality long lost, and the Spirit is trying to whet our appetite for his presence again today?

How about you? Do you have a story to tell? Has his fragrance ever settled on you?

Deep Friendship, Deep Prayer

2011-10-20T00:22:00.002-04:00

One day Jesus was praying in a certain place. When he finished, one of his disciples said to him, "Lord, teach us to pray, just as John taught his disciples." ~ Luke 11: 1

Have you ever asked someone a question and then stopped listening too soon? The disciples asked Jesus for a lesson on prayer, but many of us quit listening after the first few verses. His answer stretches all the way to verse 13.

After Jesus provided a sample prayer he continued with seven simple words that can forever change our idea of prayer: “Suppose one of you has a friend . . .” (Luke 11: 5) Jesus moved the conversation from the content of prayer to the relationship between God and man. He calls the relationship friendship.

Some friendships stand on stick-legs: they can’t hold much weight. Every conversation has to be measured carefully to avoid damaging the relationship. Jesus, on the other hand, presents the example of a friendship so strong that both men can say exactly what they think without any worry of ruining their bond.

The story is of two men who knew each other so well they could be completely honest. One guy receives an unexpected visitor late at night and needs to provide hospitality. He goes to his friend’s house--even though it’s too late at night to drop by--and asks for extra food. His friend says, “Are you nuts? It’s way too late, come back tomorrow.” Yet the relationship is so strong that the first guy can say, “I’m not leaving until I get what I need.”

Bible scholars will tell you that Jesus paints this picture to illustrate the importance of persistence in prayer, and of course that’s true. But there’s something more: Jesus invites us to imagine prayer as an extension of honest, real friendship. If we approach prayer academically we will rush past Jesus' simple introduction, “Suppose you have a friend.” He asks us to draw on our experience and imagine the best friendship we have, then apply that kind of security and strength to the way we talk to God.

The point of his illustration is that friendship itself is the reason we can persist. The reason we can be so bold to knock on the door at midnight is that we know our rude behavior will not sever the relationship. We can continue to ask, seek, and knock because we know the heart of the one we are bothering. He’s our friend. The kind of friend for whom the rules don’t count.

I’d like to suggest at least five thoughts that may change your prayers:

We don’t have to wait for the “proper time” to come and ask. If the situation calls for it, bang on the door in the middle of the night. That’s what real friends are for.

The friendship door swings both ways: the second friend is comfortable in the relationship, too. So comfortable, in fact, that the first answer might be, “Don’t bother me!” Does our picture of God allow for the possibility that I could press through the first answer? Would you ever ask God to change his mind?

When my friend does answer, he will give me “as much as I need.” Friends don’t keep score: what’s yours is mine, and vice versa. The basis for his generosity is the relationship, not the rules of etiquette.

I can have the boldness to keep on asking when I’m asking on behalf of someone else. Remember how the story starts? There’s a third party in the picture. They are the ones who will eat the bread; they are the ones in need. Jesus is suggesting that when we pray out of our need to bless others, God is more than generous, but how many times have I limited my prayers to my needs?

Finally, Jesus is unafraid to mix metaphors. Just as the power of this imaginary scene is beginning to sink in, Jesus begins to talk about fathers, children, and the Holy Spirit (verses 11-13). Can we turn our imagination in still more directions?

Perhaps, but that’s another blog for another day.

Monday Meditation: Rethinking the Daily Mail

2011-10-17T00:04:00.003-04:00

Let me confess something: I used to hate bringing the mail in from the mailbox. I would let it build up for days and pretend it wasn't there. I was upset if my wife or kids brought it in.

“No good thing can possibly come in the mail,” I instructed my family, and I really meant it.

Then one day I began to apply my imagination to the possibilities of receiving mail so good that it could change my life. Try to apply your imagination with me:

The bank made a mistake years ago calculating your mortgage and now--suddenly--they tell you your house is paid off. In fact, they owe you a rebate as well.
A total stranger has paid off your student loans.
The doctors write to tell you the diagnosis was wrong and you don’t have cancer after all.

These examples represent the best kind of news. No more coupon-clipping; your future is no longer clouded by debt; your fears of endless treatment and medicines vanish in a moment. Who wouldn’t welcome such great news?

But now imagine that the day after you receive such wonderful mail, you wake up and find yourself worried about money or you wake up in a sweat thinking about hospitals and death. Old habits die hard, and habits of the mind may not die at all.

To receive good news, to really receive it—to take it in and discover new freedom—requires a new way of thinking. This new way of thinking has a Biblical name: repentance. I know. You thought repentance meant things like remorse, feeling guilty, determination and trying harder.

Someone has lied to you. At its very core the word “repent” means rethink your life. The trick is: you have to have a valid reason to rethink your life. A positive mental attitude is not enough; simply trying harder won’t change your world.

There must be some hard-core reality that changes the equation, something that wipes away the past, or presents a future that cannot be denied. Better yet, all three. Jesus presented just that hard-core reality when he said, “The Kingdom of God is breaking in. Right here, right now.” He wasn’t describing some new program or advocating a new philosophy. Jesus challenged people to recognize that the world would be forever different because God had come down and he would do whatever was necessary to set people free.

God could not be stopped, the old order of things was condemned and a new order was made real. He invited us to move to the side of victory with these words: “The time has come. The Kingdom of God is at hand. Repent and believe the good news.”

Good news requires that we rethink our way of life. Have you recalculated yours in the light of his Kingdom? May I suggest this mediation for the coming week? Instead of trying to imagine going to heaven after you die, try to imagine what it would be like if heaven began breaking into your world here and now, because that’s precisely what happened in Jesus Christ.

Tasting the Family Heritage

2011-10-13T00:18:00.002-04:00

God’s presence is the family heritage. I turn page after page in the family album of scripture and discover my God is highly relational. He wants us to know him. Let’s pull out the album and remind ourselves of the past. Can you hear the pages crackle with the testimony of lives impacted by his touch?

There’s our father, Abraham. He was visited personally by the creator of the universe no fewer than four times. God spoke to Abraham, and Abraham spoke to God. They discussed where Abraham should live, what he should do and how he should raise his family. Abraham served God a meal, heard God laugh, and bargained with him for the lives of the righteous.

Abraham’s son, Isaac, shared his life with God as well. God helped him through difficult economic times with specific advice. Isaac waited a long time for the God of his father to become his God, but it was worth the wait. Isaac’s wife asked of God and discovered why her pregnancy was so difficult; in the process she learned the secret destiny of her twin sons.

Abraham’s grandson, Jacob, did his best to avoid the presence of God. Yet even while running away he stumbled into God’s house. He didn’t know where he was, but he awoke at the base of Heaven’s gate. Later in his life he found himself in hand-to-hand combat with the Almighty, and the experience changed his identity forever: “I’m the one who wrestled with God” (and I have the limp to prove it).

This is our family album as well. Our ancestors conversed with God, questioned God, wrestled with God, and heard his secrets. They bargained and pleaded with him, and--most amazingly--they experienced his presence even while they were in conflict with him.

Those of us with a high view of scripture should allow it to whet our appetite, to provoke our thirst for his tangible presence. We have a choice: if our experience does not match the revealed word of God, we should change our way of life and pursue the experience we see. Instead we have settled for knowing the record of the past, but it doesn’t have to be that way.

Monday’s post collected stories from everyday people who have felt his touch in our time. Their stories should encourage us that Abraham’s blessing can be ours as well. God’s relationship with others is a promise to us. We were made to be with him. Do we experience his presence? Are we aware when God is in the room? Jesus intended that, like our family, we should know his presence. We should settle for nothing less. One taste is enough to bring hunger for life. We should feel him for real or wrestle with the lack until he comes and touches us himself.

Many Christians have no story to tell because they have been taught avoid subjective experience. They’ve been taught the facts of God’s presence, but what good is it to have a theology that asserts God’s presence is everywhere if there is no evidence of it? It may be the central failing of the North American church: His presence is rarely manifest. We do not even feel the lack. He is indeed with everyone, but everyone is not always with him. God is present with everyone; more important, He longs for everyone to be present with him.

We have settled. The presence of God has been canned, preserved and placed in the pantry. Our taste for the freshness of his presence has been dulled. We have subsisted on the remains of his presence when just one taste of the real thing is enough to cause us to hunger for the rest of our lives. It’s the kind of hunger that will keep us filled for life.

Monday's Meditation: Experiencing His Presence

2011-10-10T00:06:00.001-04:00

One night God came to dinner with me and five of my friends. We’ve never been the same.

We were a team of six college students who found ourselves unexpectedly joined together because our backyard Bible study had blossomed into a small church. Our ragtag group of believers were like the Lost Boys in Peter Pan--not a true adult among us. We sang silly songs and engaged in Bible teaching, even though we ourselves knew nothing. We had seen our fellowship grow into 120 people, but the only thing we knew for sure is that the six of us were called by God into mutual commitment to him and one another.

Alone in a church basement, around the scent of roast lamb rising from our plates we celebrated what God had done between us. We ate a covenant meal and expressed our commitment to one another.

What happened next changed my life: God became present in a tangible way. He was in the room with us. We stopped praying and sat in silence. The room was heavy: the air lay upon my shoulders like a weight. None of us dared speak. The silence was so thick it seemed like a substance. Each of us knew that God had joined us. We felt small and insignificant even while we also felt eternity welling inside of our very bodies.

After he left, we sat together stunned, and shared our experiences. My tiny mind knew that, technically, God was everywhere all the time, but in that moment I experienced his presence for the first time. In the decades since I have encountered God again and again, now aware that there is a difference between the knowledge of his omni-presence and the experience of his presence.

I’ve listened to other people speak of their experiences as well:

“God met me in a hotel room one night;”

“God visited me in my childhood as I looked out my bedroom window;”

“The presence of God filled the room like a cloud as we worshipped.”

I know their accounts are true simply because I have eaten at the same table and sipped the same wine. I’ve read the accounts of people like Jacob the slickster, who awoke one night and gasped, “‘Surely the LORD is in this place, and I was not aware of it.’ He was afraid and said, ‘How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven.’” (Genesis 28: 16-17)

This week’s Meditation is a two-fold invitation to this community of readers:

If you’re never experienced the presence of God in a tangible way, ask him to come and open yourself to the possibility.
If you have experienced his presence, click on the comments below and share your story. Let deep call to deep so we might all hunger again for that banqueting table.

Surpassing Peace

2011-10-06T00:05:00.000-04:00

What if the opposite of fear is not courage, but peace?

“Peace I leave with you,” Jesus told his friends at the Last Supper. “My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (John 14: 27)

Our day and age is characterized by activity, energy, and action. Peace is not an attribute of our times. When magazines and television broadcasts highlight the lives of celebrities, peace is not mentioned as one of the advantages of “the good life.”

Jesus, however, offered his disciples the yoke of discipleship, and under his instruction they would experience rest and peace. He spoke about peace often: peace is among the fruit of the Spirit. Peace is an attribute of believers even when they face persecution or violence. Peace is the fingerprint of Jesus upon the lives he has crafted. He can teach us how to live a life of peace.

The Apostle Paul, writing to a healthy group of believers in Philippi, gave these words as his final command:

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4: 6 – 7)

These are famous verses. Perhaps you have heard of this incredible promise of “the peace which transcends understanding.” But has anyone taught us how to receive the gift of God, this perfect peace? We can be free from fear and anxiety through prayer and thanksgiving.

For many followers of Jesus, prayer is more a source of frustration than peace. We know that we are supposed to pray, but who has instructed us how to pray? For some of us, our prayers are driven by need or fear. For others prayer is a duty and a mystery. One reason we do not experience the peace that passes understanding after we pray is that we have not learned how to pray as Jesus taught.

The passage in Philippians also reveals the key ingredient in prayer: thanksgiving. A thankful heart is the foundation for peace in God’s Kingdom. As we “present our requests to God,” we are instructed to do so with thanksgiving. It’s OK to have requests, we simply need to do so with thanksgiving. These need not be opposed to each other. Thanksgiving changes the atmosphere. Thanksgiving orders our world properly.

A heart thankful toward him is a heart in right relationship with him. Do we need to petition God? Absolutely! But the life-giving way to bring our requests before him is with a genuinely thankful heart. Many of us pray from a place of worry and fear, and so we emerge from prayer even more anxious than when we started! We can learn to be thankful, and we must pursue this heart-quality if we are to follow him.

Finally, we need to see the connection between our understanding and peace. Many Christians are driven by the need to control our circumstances. Part of that control is the driving need to “understand” what is going on in our lives. We believe that if we can understand what is happening, we will somehow have the power to affect our situation. This is largely an illusion. We rarely are capable of the perspective needed to understand our complicated lives. Until we give up our right to understand we can't have the peace that passes understanding.

We worry about so many things! We want to know: why have we been treated unfairly? Why did our loved one make such a foolish choices? The “why” questions reveal our inner desire to be in control, and when we are not in control we are filled with worry, grief, and care. God gives understanding, but it is a gift to the heart at rest in him.

Good news: we can learn the things that make for peace. We can learn to pray the Jesus way. We can cultivate thankfulness that springs from the heart. We can experience transcendent peace. He calls us to learn from him. We can start here.

Monday's Meditation: Glory and Goodness

2011-10-03T00:02:00.001-04:00

Just when everything seems to be going wrong, God reveals his goodness and his glory.

Consider the amazing events recorded in Exodus 32 & 33. Moses has experienced unimaginable victory: the Egyptians have been defeated, God’s people have been delivered from slavery into freedom, and Moses has received ten life-giving words that will re-order Israel’s new identity as God’s very own society.

Moses was literally at the heights of revelation and victory. When he came down from the mountaintop he got the surprise of his life: the people of Israel, freshly rescued from 400 years of misery, had turned away from God, created a golden statue of a calf, and bowed down to their newly-created idol. Worse still, the “worship” of the man-made statue involved the kind of party that would make your mother blush.

When you turn to Exodus 33, that’s the story so far. Some days are diamonds, some days are stones, and some days are calf manure. In that very place of betrayal and spiritual adultery, God chose to demonstrate his goodness to Moses. Exodus 33: 12 – 23 takes only a moment to read, and we can discover at least four meditations:

1). As Moses pleads with God for help, and God answers simply, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” God’s first answer is to offer his presence. It’s what we need most. Selah: pause, and think about that!

2). Moses responds with wisdom that still applies for us today: regarding God’s presence Moses says, “What else will distinguish me and your people from all the other people on the face of the earth?” The distinguishing mark of God’s people is his presence. In times of victory or trouble, his presence is our identity. I know it’s Monday, but Selah: pause, and think about that!

3). God’s assurances are personal and filled with approval. Moses is bold enough to push all the chips into the middle of the table and say, “Show me your glory.” What a strange request when there are so many problems to solve! Today, make time and Selah: pause, and think about that!

4). Finally, even as God himself says, “yes,” to Moses, God offers a gentle instruction. Moses asked, “show me your glory,” and God says, “I will cause my goodness to pass in front of you.” The lesson is: one of the ways God demonstrates his glory is to show us his goodness. Why not ask him today to open your eyes to his goodness?

Selah!

Telling Time

2011-09-29T14:50:00.002-04:00

After John was put in prison, Jesus went into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God. "The time has come," he said. "The kingdom of God is near. Repent and believe the good news!" ~ Mark 1: 14–15

Who can live in the timing of God? It’s one thing to agree with God’s viewpoint intellectually; it’s quite another to express our agreement in concrete action. Jesus modeled agreement with the Father by doing God’s will in perilous times. In simple, direct language Mark’s gospel reveals that Jesus launched his ministry at the very time that the Kingdom message could get you thrown into jail.

In an atmosphere of resistance and oppression Jesus decided that the time was right to proclaim good news. Herod, a puppet-king of the powerful Roman Empire, had jailed John the Baptist because John’s preaching had threatened the status quo. Human wisdom would have suggested that Jesus keep things on the down-low until passions had cooled. You can almost hear the counsel of the worldly-wise in Jesus’ day: “Wait just a little while,” they might advise. “Let the rich and powerful turn their attention away from preachers in the countryside.”

Instead, Jesus modeled a ministry directed by the Spirit. In a world overrun by a pagan power, in a world rife with political scheming and considerations, in a world where caution was the order of the day, Jesus boldly declared that good news, the best news, was within reach. What kind of person tells suffering, mourning captives that freedom is within their reach? The source of his good news had nothing to do with the powers of the age and everything to do with the in-breaking of God’s time into their time.

It’s only natural to look for the “best time” to engage in ministry: wait until the economy is stronger; until the political climate is warmer; until the streets are safer, until your children are older, until your savings account is fatter. Wait. Jesus had a different schedule. He said simply, “The time has come.” He took into consideration only one factor: God’s Kingdom was at hand. The Kingdom of God does not wait on the future because the Kingdom is breaking into the present. God’s Kingdom was beginning to invade the kingdoms of the earth, and if God was on the move, how could Jesus remain still? It's still true today, and we are called to imitate his example. If God is on the move, how can we remain still?

Jesus is serving the best wine now because he dwells in the now. “The time has come” each day. Since Jesus inaugurated the in-breaking of the Kingdom, every day with God presents opportunities to announce and demonstrate the Kingdom of God. The only important question is whether we know what time it is.

Monday's Meditation: Our Role in Perfecting the Love of God

2011-09-26T01:03:00.002-04:00

“Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God.” With these words begin one of the most startling messages ever shared: God gives his love to us and wants to perfect it in people like you and me.

Decades after a teenager named John laid his head on Jesus’ chest at the last supper we hear from him the wisdom of a lifetime. From the wellspring of revelation he tells us two astounding things: God’s love can be “made complete in us,” and, “in this world we are like Jesus.”

Can we drink in those two possibilities? They are the meditation of his lifetime. John is the one who followed Jesus to the base of the cross. John became the son of Mary and cared for his adopted mother until her death. John saw the love of God with his eyes and touched the love of God with his hands. Near the end of his life he tells us plainly, “God is love.” We could be comfortable enough with these words because they require only that we become recipients of what God has done.

Perhaps most surprisingly, this lifetime-disciple of Jesus encourages us with the astounding possibility that because we follow Jesus, the love of God can be perfected in us. How could this possibly be so? Most of us have been trained to recite the depravity of our hearts as the daily mantra spoken before we ask for forgiveness. Yet John suggests that a lifetime of following Jesus can result in perfected, fearless love. He calls us to participate, to steward, and to complete what God starts in us. To limit our lives as only the resting place of God’s love is to bury the treasure in order to give it back to him later.

Was John serious? What?!? Perfect love--in me? Today I can offer two suggestions to start us down this path.

First, since God is love, we cannot manufacture the real thing on our own. All true love originates in him and flows to us. We cannot love apart from his empowerment.

Second, we become stewards of the love of God, both in ourselves and toward the world around us. God-love cannot be made complete unless we ourselves because like Jesus in this world. The fullness of his love depends on us.

We can know and rely on the love he has for us. Who knew we could also become complete in it? Apparently John knew: and now so do we.

Making Disciples Makes Me

2011-09-22T10:50:00.000-04:00

The astounding news of the gospel of the Kingdom is that we’ve been called to look like Jesus. I’m gratified when Christians begin to realize spiritual formation is possible. They begin to pursue their destiny in Christ. But there is a second part of our destiny in Jesus: we have been called to not only be disciples, we’ve been called to make disciples as well.

You might think: “this is a no-brainer, you’re talking about evangelism.” But it’s not so easy. For many, the Great Commission in Matthew 28: 16-20 has been a call to evangelism. The problem is, evangelism in North America has consisted chiefly of proclaiming the gospel of “Go-to-heaven-when-you-die.” The substance of most evangelism focuses upon the price Jesus paid for our redemption and the new birth required to receive his free gift. When there is a new decision for Christ, the follow-up may encourage converts to find and attend a local church, but that is not making disciples.

Other believers, the kind who readily embrace spiritual formation, focus on the call to become like Jesus. They embrace the disciplines capable of changing their lives without looking beyond their own welfare in God. But what if the task of making disciples is central to our calling to become like Jesus? What if we are called to the kind of evangelism that causes us to say, "Be imitators of me, just as I also am of Christ"? (I Corinthians 11:1) How would that change our walk with God? How effective would our "evangelism" become?

Jesus modeled every aspect of life with God. Sometimes we miss one of the most obvious aspects of his example: he called and trained others. His personal influence drew them closer to the Father, and after three years of intensive life-sharing he released them into the care of the Father and the Spirit. His command at the end of Matthew’s gospel and the evidence of the book of Acts reveals that he expects us to do the same.

Following Jesus means discipleship. It’s the path to Christlikeness. Part of this path is the change worked in us when we pour our lives into others: both will find themselves changed day-by-day into the image of their common Master.

Monday's Meditation: The Hungry are Filled

2011-09-19T00:02:00.001-04:00

I’ve heard people say, “God’s kingdom is an up-side down kingdom.” In truth, his way is right-side up: we are the ones standing on our heads.

In the West, rich people go to the head of the line. Money buys a seat even when the house is sold out. Money bends the will of those desperate to feed their families. Wealth, in the hands of natural men, is no blessing: it is a curse to themselves and others.

In less developed nations, the ruthless take the head of the line by force. Strength emboldens the heartless; they impose their will on the weak. Corruption diverts food and water away from those in need. Selfish human strength betrays the purpose of strength itself.

It’s the way of the world, and the world is weary in the way.

Beneath the clamour of getting and spending, fighting and struggle, I heard the voice of a young girl singing. Listen:

His mercy is for those who fear him

from generation to generation.

He has shown strength with his arm;

he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;

He has brought down the mighty from their thrones

and exalted those of humble estate;

He has filled the hungry with good things,

and the rich he has sent away empty. (Luke 1: 50-53)

From inside an empire filled with wealth and brute force a teenage girl proclaimed the way of God. Mary whispered the words that toppled the kingdoms of this earth. God honors hunger, and we can all be hungry.

The teenager’s baby heard his mother’s song. When he was grown he sang, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.”

Hunger is the equity that draws on the bank of heaven. No one is disqualified. We can all be hungry. An old woman with vaginal bleeding was hungry for God’s touch. Five thousand people hungered for his words more than food; they were all given plenty to eat. A foreign woman pretended to be a dog just to get a scrap of the children’s bread. Desire is the first requirement, and we can all possess the currency. In his genius, insight and wisdom Jesus taught us to pray, “Give us today our daily bread.” When is the last time those were the words of our heart? Those who are full never ask to be fed.

This week’s meditation is two simple, difficult questions. When was the last time I was hungry? What am I hungry for?

The Tension of Love and Mystery: Why we don't have to know it all

2011-09-15T01:00:00.003-04:00

N.T. Wright was once asked his opinion about John’s gospel. He stammered around a bit and finally confessed, “I feel about John like I feel about my wife; I love her very much but I wouldn't claim to understand her.” Precisely: love and mystery trump understanding every time.

If you’re the kind of person who needs to figure everything out, perhaps the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob is not for you. Too bad, because he’s the real deal: he’s the one who spun galaxies off of his fingertips, who calls forth the starry host one by one each night. He’s the one who has no problem turning the tables on the rich and self-confident by raising the humble and poor.

Students of Jesus live within a healthy tension between revelation and mystery. We are in relationship with a vast, imponderable, transcendent, infinite Creator who also desires an intimacy with us closer than our next breath. It’s the kind of math that makes quantum physics look like child’s play: infinite God plus finite human equals eternal relationship. No amount of smarts can balance the books, but a willing heart can thrive forever.

In Luke’s gospel one chapter in particular bursts at the seams with the tension between revelation and mystery. Chapter seven contains at least four imponderables, waiting like snares for the sure-footed religious expert. I have tripped on these four often:

1). Jesus is not easily impressed, but faith can cause him to marvel (Luke 7: 1-10). When a Roman soldier is satisfied solely with the words of Jesus, the Lord tells all Israel they have something to learn from a Gentile. Jesus called the religious intellectuals of his days “blind fools.” Those who claim to have things figured out automatically disqualify themselves as guides for spiritual formation; those who place their trust in God without reserve become examples for us all.

2). The Creator of the universe is moved by compassion (Luke 7: 11-17). Jesus raises a dead man for no good reason--unless we count the tears of a widow as reason enough. This strange paragraph is almost a throw-away passage. We are offered no explanation other than the Eternal One is apparently always unhappy with death. Do we hold the same view?

3). The Greatest Teacher in history is pleased to speak mysteries (Luke 7: 18-35). Is there any more complicated question than the fate of John the Baptist? John is the first to recognize the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world; yet from prison he is filled with second-guesses and questions; finally, this servant of God loses his life on the whim of a dancing teenager. Jesus is pleased to call our attention to John’s example, but offers us one of the strangest sayings of his ministry, “Yet wisdom is justified by all her children” (verse 35). I’ve pondered those words for decades and I’m still no closer to finding a clue as to their meaning. What about you?

4). Boldness and worship impress the God who needs nothing (Luke 7: 36-50). When a woman ruined a dinner party with tears, perfume and love, Jesus jumps to her defense. The host merely thinks a critical thought, and that alone is offensive to Jesus. The rich are sent away empty and the social outcast becomes a model of devotion. By the final verse of the chapter tears, perfume and love have become sufficient testimony of faith. No creed, no orthodoxy, and no propriety are enough, but the party-crasher goes home justified while the host is made a fool.

Each of us should strive for understanding because we are commanded to love God with our minds. Jesus rewards those who turn their thoughts and intellect his way, yet he is not impressed by my intelligence. The qualities of wonder, love and relationship are the foundations on which our study must be built.

Monday's Meditation: Healing Scars

2011-09-12T00:06:00.001-04:00

I once met a woman who carried her scars like a crown a thorns. Twenty-five years before, she said, a gay man had tried to poison her with AIDS. I knew it wasn’t true, but she believed it was. And more important--her body believed it was.

She wandered through life like the Ancient Mariner, looking for still another soul to hear her story. Day after day, for twenty-five years, she had grown progressively more ill with everything except AIDS. She lived in chronic pain, had developed a cancer that became her identity, and she could not answer the question, “Do you want to be well?” Her pain had become her trademark. She wanted to tell everyone how she had suffered.

In contrast, I also met a man who carried scars from his past life as a sign of hope. He had conquered death and the grave, but still bore the marks of torture in his hands, his feet and his side. He bore no ill-will toward those who had killed him. In fact, before he died he prayed on their behalf. After rising from the dead he decided to keep the scars as a source of hope for others.

We are all scarred by life. The question is whether we will use our scars to redeem others.

The miracle of the resurrection is more than Jesus simply coming back to life. The power that raised him from the dead reshaped his body as well. He appeared to Mary in the garden and she thought he was the gardner. He walked Emmaus Road with two old friends who could not recognize their Rabbi. His resurrection body defied the confines of everyday life: fear-locked doors could not hold him at bay. He was, quite literally, a walking miracle.

Yet he chose to keep the scars of his crucifixion. Have you ever wondered why? When the good news was too good for his friends to believe, Jesus showed them the scars from his past. The hole in his side brought Thomas to his knees in worship. The nail prints in his feet and hands reassured the disciples.

Jesus demonstrated that the things which have hurt us the most can be a source of hope for others. His scars testified to the reality of his past--he did not ignore the past and he did not try to hide it. He used his scars to bring peace to others.

Through radical trust in the Father and forgiveness toward others Jesus transformed the wicked acts of evil men into life and hope. Although his death and resurrection are unique, he is still our example. What about us? Can our past set others free? Can the harm inflicted upon us bring peace and hope to our friends? Or will we--like the unforgiving woman I met years ago--use our scars to buy sympathy and attention for ourselves?

My Favorite Reality Show

2011-09-08T06:43:00.001-04:00

One reason I like watching “reality shows” is that my life seems pretty squared away compared to those people. It’s too bad there aren’t any shows like that about churches, so I could compare the “reality church” to my own congregation. But wait--actually, there is a place observe struggling churches filled with reality stars. It’s the New Testament. It shows us plenty of insane situations complete with greedy people, religious crazies, hurt feelings, and racial prejudices—and these are the good guys! It’s one of the reasons I love the scripture so much: it casts a cold hard stare on its subjects.

Take the church in Corinth--please. It was a crazy mix of spirituality, worldliness, excess, and beauty. In others words, a church very much like yours. The church in Corinth started off with a bang, when God himself spoke to the apostle Paul in a vision: “Don’t be afraid, and don’t give up on this town. I have a lot of people here.” (Acts 18: 9-10)

So the Apostle Paul unpacked his suitcase and became Pastor Paul for a year and a half. Can you imagine having Paul of Tarsus, that towering colossus of Christianity, as a pastor? Paul invested 18 months of his life in these people. Imagine the quality start the church in Corinth received: a year and a half of the very best in ministry, miracles, and teaching. This church must have been a model church right? Well, not exactly.

After he left, Paul got a note from the folks who meet at Chloe’s house: “Ummm, Paul? There are few problems here we’d like to ask you about.”

A few problems? Let’s make a partial list:

• Believers in Corinth were choosing sides concerning who was the best spiritual leader: some said Paul, some Peter, some Apollos, and the really spiritual people said, “I only follow Jesus!”

• A regular attendee of the church was sleeping with his father’s wife (yikes!). Everyone who attended the church knew about it, but no one was doing anything about it.

• Church members were racing each other to courts of law because they couldn’t settle their disputes inside the church.

• There were major arguments over who should eat what kind of food, and why.

• People were getting drunk at communion and church pot luck dinners (I know that sounds hard to believe, but you can look it up: I Corinthians 11: 20 -21).

• And we haven’t even touched on problems like worship services that were pretty strange: spiritual gifts, spiritual pride, arguments about dating, and strange views about resurrection!

I don’t know where you go to church, but even the worst church in my town doesn’t come close to this list of problems in Corinth. If I want to gawk at a bunch of immature believers, I don’t even have to leave home. I can just open up my Bible and read about the church in Corinth.

You might think that Paul wouldn’t have anything good to say to these believers. He had labored hard for a year and a half, and this was the fruit? Yet, here's what he said:

“I always thank God for you . . .”

“You have been enriched in every way . . .”

“You do not lack any spiritual gift . . .”

“He will keep you strong until the end . . .”

And these words are just from the greeting in the letter—the first nine verses. Perhaps Paul was just being diplomatic—except I don’t think the scripture contains polite white lies.

What lessons can we learn from a terrible church?

For one, Paul didn’t give up on them. There was a lively correspondence that lasted for years. Paul was committed to them the rest of his life.

Second, even though they questioned Paul’s position and authority, Paul responded with a passion that reflected his true fatherhood. “You really are my children,” he said. Even though they were unfaithful to him, he remained faithful to them.

Next, Paul continued to teach patiently. Even the greatest church-planter in history had things to fix. If someone like Paul can produce a church like Corinth, perhaps we should cut some slack toward pastors who don’t rise to the level of super apostle?

Finally--and this is the most challenging to me--Paul let them continue to operate even though they were making mistakes. If I had started a church that later went crazy with spiritual gifts, I think I would have been tempted to write to them: “Everybody stop! You’re doing it wrong! Just cut it out until I get there, then we’ll talk about it.” But Paul said, “Tongues are good, prophecy is good, and don’t forbid them.” Even though they were doing it wrong! The answer to the misuse of spiritual gifts isn’t to shut them down; it is to teach them up.

The church in Corinth is reality TV. If they can go down in history as a church God loves, a church to whom God speaks, and God nurtures, why can’t our churches be the same?

Monday's Meditation: Our Greatest Need

2011-09-05T08:46:00.001-04:00

Here’s a disturbing trend in the Christian blogosphere: we would much rather talk about other people than ourselves. When I post something about the church at large, the number of visitors to this site soars and comments pour in. Everyone rushes to the table where the state of the church is sliced, diced, and analyzed in detail. With the mere mention of a Christian celebrity I can purchase hundreds more visitors to my site.

If, however, I post something about our individual need to wait for God in silence, or our personal destiny to become conformed to his image, I get the internet equivalence of chirping crickets. Nothing. Like a busker singing at the Metro, everyone hurries by. And why not? Christianity is way more fun when we’re talking about other people. Following Jesus isn’t such a joyride if he wants to talk to me.

I am one of us as well. I would much rather pontificate on the issues facing Christendom across the continent than listen to the still small voice addressing the secrets of my heart. I would rather do significant things. I want to be a part of important conversations.

Recently I found the private notes of a world leader who longed to hear the whisper spoken to him alone. This man held a position of national significance, no, wait--historical importance. Yet he was a man who positioned himself in the quiet place and waited for his best friend to come and sit with him.

My heart is not proud, O LORD,

my eyes are not haughty;

I do not concern myself with great matters

or things too wonderful for me.

But I have stilled and quieted my soul;

like a weaned child with its mother,

like a weaned child is my soul within me.

O Israel, put your hope in the LORD

both now and forevermore. (~ Psalm 131, a psalm of David)

God took a boy out of the shepherd’s field and put him in the palace, but not before embedding the hillside, the breeze, the night sky and the quiet times into his heart. The Biblical histories of Samuel and Chronicles will tell you the palace was a place filled with intrigue, politics, war and power--and it was. The Psalms and Proverbs will tell you that David took time to climb the stairs, shut the door, and pick up the harp.

Our greatest need--my greatest need--is the daily presence of the Holy Spirit. When David knew he had stepped over the line, claiming power and privilege as some sort of birth right, he repented before the Lord and begged that the presence would remain:

Create in me a pure heart, O God,

and renew a steadfast spirit within me.

Do not cast me from your presence

or take your Holy Spirit from me. (Psalm 51: 10-11)

At the end of each day my Father won’t be impressed with my intellect or insight. He’ll be concerned with the beat of my heart. In the quiet (if there is quiet) he will want to know if I lived a whole-hearted life that day. Did my actions spring from the well of the Spirit or the treadmill of importance? He will be concerned with these questions because he knows that spiritual formation happens each day. The only question is: what have we formed?

The Honorable Order of Experience

2011-09-01T00:05:00.003-04:00

Just a mile up the road is Green River State Park. Like most locals, I never go to the lake, except to take visitors cliff-jumping.

We park the car in a gravel lot and take the trail out to a secluded spot overlooking the man-made lake. The shale stone cliff is only about twenty feet above the lake, but I’m fond of telling first-timers it’s forty feet, minimum. In the woods near the point are the remains of campfires and beer bottles. We tell the newbies to keep their voice down, otherwise the park rangers will run us off, because cliff jumping is not authorized. Too dangerous.

I’m a safety-first kinda guy, so I ask one of the young bucks in our party to first climb down the cliff and swim the waters to check for submerged logs or anything that could cause injury. I watch the first-timers peer over the edge and watch the swimmer below. You can see them do the math about jumping: is it really 40 feet? How often are there submerged logs? Is this really safe?

I know what you’re thinking: This is a post about taking a leap of faith. Nope. This isn’t a metaphor about faith: it’s about experience. Nothing replaces it.

The word “faith” has been virtually ruined in our discourse. It can mean intellectual agreement with various propositions. It can mean superstition regarding any number of moments in life. Even among Christians, faith is frequently reduced to the mere teaching of bullet points and making sure everyone is on the same page doctrinally.

That’s why cliff jumping is so refreshing: cliff jumping requires the jump: you can walk the path, swim the waters, climb the rocks, but eventually you must jump. Nothing else will do. You can go along and watch. You can correct my estimate of how many feet you will fall. You can watch others all afternoon. But if you’re going to be a cliff jumper, eventually you have to jump.

It doesn’t matter how you jump. Hold your nose and close your eyes. Put your arms in the air like a roller coaster ride. Scream like a little girl. Now you’re a jumper, and sailing through the air trumps study or song. You’ll return home with a new experience and a souvenir memory. You are a member of the Honorable Order of Park Ranger-Defying Cliff Jumpers. You know whereof you speak.

Knowledge and theory are overrated. Experience is underrated. We need experience: it’s the kind of knowing the scripture describes when it urges us:

Let us know;let us press on to know the Lord;

his going out is sure as the dawn;

he will come to us as the showers,

as the spring rains that water the earth. (Hosea 6:3)

I want to feel him like the rush of my first jump. Like the wind in my ears. Like the crazy sound of the water when it covers my head in an instant. I want to know him in the twitching of my leg muscles in the night when I go to bed and remember the first time I jumped.

I want faith that grabs him in the middle of the jump and never lets go. I want Paul’s prayer to be answered in me:

I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. (Ephesians 3: 16-21)

I want words to fail me. I want the fourth dimension. I want faith that grasps his love. Then I’ll go study, because only then will he be with me.

Monday's Meditation: Imperishable Seed, Daily Choices

2011-08-29T09:24:00.001-04:00

Part of the mystery of the new birth is the power of the seed. New life in Jesus is something more than a resolution to follow him, more than human determination to become a better person. It really is a new birth. It is a new creation: something that did not exist before is called into being by God's voice. Peter, friend and follower of Jesus, describes this new birth in terms of an imperishable seed.

“For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God.” ~ I Peter 1:23

Inside of an apple seed are the instructions--the potential for an entire apple tree. Deep inside the seed is the DNA, and the genetic code sets the course for the seed, the sprout, the plant and the tree. An apple seed will produce an apple tree, nothing else. The natural world reflects the wisdom of the spiritual world. Have we ever stopped to consider, "What is the destiny of God's imperishable seed planted in me?"

Yet DNA is not destiny: it is potential. Without the right soil or the right temperature, without enough water, the seed cannot reach its potential. The imperishable seed inside of each believer contains the possibilities of Christlikeness. To be born from above means that we have heaven’s genetic code implanted within us. But we are the soil: the choices we make shape our future in Christ. Becoming like Jesus is a partnership: his DNA points to our destiny, our choices shape the outcome. Fortunately, the seed is imperishable: it is far more resilient than any flower or vegetable you have ever tried to grow!

Peter was there when Jesus talked about seed falling into the ground. He heard the Lord teach about the different kind of soil and their effect on the seed. Here in Peter’s letter, written decades after Jesus ascended to heaven, he reflects on the potential of that imperishable seed. He encourages us to choose heart-felt love that leads to obedience, because these ingredients are essential to reaching the full destiny of the seed.

Today's meditation: how will I tend the seed inside of me? His grace planted it there. Christlikeness is built into the imperishable seed. His DNA makes it possible for me to become like him, but my choices contribute to the outcome.

Ever-Increasing Glory: A Life of Constant Change

2011-08-25T06:55:00.003-04:00

New life in Christ should be a life of constant transformation. Because we follow an infinite Lord our possibilities are infinite as well. Can you imagine a life of being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory? You should: it’s a Biblical description of your potential in Christ.

I’ve discovered that becoming a follower of Jesus begins with at least three initial transformations: we must be born from above; we must acquire his character; and we must imitate his works. Most believers North America have some grasp on the first, a hope of the second, and almost no concept of the third.

The gospel accounts are filled with the miscalculations, the infighting and the petty pride exhibited by Jesus’ original followers. Yet as Jesus prepared to leave, he charged his disciples with the impossible.

“I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father. And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.” (John 14: 12-14)

In the years after Jesus ascended to heaven, the Book of Acts records that the seed of heaven broke through the soil of their humanity in amazing ways. The first disciples demonstrated they were up to the task because the life of Jesus had been planted in them as an imperishable seed. Consider these three transformations:

1). The first disciples found themselves transformed by the new birth. They really were a new creation. Heaven’s DNA had altered their very being. Timid, self-absorbed, working class men became world changers capable of threatening the Roman Empire just as their Master had done. We should ask ourselves, “If we have the family DNA, where is the family resemblance?” Perhaps the new birth is not accomplished by mere agreement with a few simple faith propositions. Many Christians are troubled by their past, troubled by their sin, and troubled by their futures.They’ve prayed “the sinner’s prayer” and been assured they are going to heaven, but they experience no change. If the power of God can assure our eternal destiny, shouldn’t it be able to impact our thoughts and actions here and now? That was the record of the early church.

2). The first disciples found themselves transformed in character. As a result they demonstrated the character of Christ to a degree not possible by their own good intentions or human effort. In our day, we are tempted to think we should “act better” because we are Christians. It’s a trap: we will only “act better” as long as our will power holds up--just ask anyone who has every started a diet! Eventually it will fail us even as it failed the disciples the night Jesus was arrested. What we need is change from the inside out. Change flows from the new birth the way spring water flows from the source. Our job is not to try harder, but to get out of the way. The transformation of new birth finds its way into our character by the hunger and thirst for the stuff of heaven. A newborn infant without hunger or thirst is desperately ill: why should it be any different in our life with Christ?

3). The first disciples found themselves transformed by power for ministry. The Book of Acts records the first followers of Jesus were startlingly like Jesus, in thought, word and deed. The history of the early church is filled with descriptions of ordinary people who declared the message of the Kingdom of God (as Jesus had done) and demonstrated the coming of that Kingdom with powerful actions--just as Jesus had done. What they experienced in ministry at Jesus’ side turned out to be merely a learner’s permit. With the coming of the Holy Spirit the first believers discovered a transformation from the impossibilities of the flesh to the possibilities of heaven. What does it mean to do the works of Jesus? How we answer the question reveals our understanding of what it means to live “in Christ.” In his day, Jesus had a high view of his followers. He believed in them more than they believed in themselves. It’s still his day if we will let him have his way.

The first disciples were up to the task. In the intervening centuries the people of God have sometimes lived up to the charge left by our Lord, and sometimes have changed the task into something attainable by human effort. I believe every generation must wrestle with the challenge Jesus left us. The first disciples were up to the task. The obvious question is whether we are up to the task as well.

Monday's Meditation: Grenade!

2011-08-22T10:28:00.003-04:00

Nearly every World War II war movie ever made contains the sacrificial scene: in the middle of a firefight a hand grenade bounces into the foxhole. Some expendable character in the movie dives atop the thing before it explodes. The hero of the movie sees the valour and sacrifice of his buddy and leads the good guys to victory.

My warped sense of humor wonders about the timing device on the grenade. What if--after covering the grenade with his body--there was a moment’s delay before the explosion? “Dang!” thinks the guy lying on the ground. “I probably had time to pick this thing up and BOOM!” Too late.

I see a connection between cheesy WWII movies and these words of Jesus: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9: 23) Death on the installment plan is much more difficult than dying in a single moment.

Under the right circumstances anyone could give their life once. To give it up daily is something else altogether. The call of discipleship begins with “come and follow.” We follow Jesus in his devotion to the Father. We follow him in his ministry to the masses. And we discover as the first disciples did, we follow him to the cross. The cross of Christ was unique because the perfect Son of God paid what no one on earth could afford. The cross of each disciple is unique because the life of Jesus waits to flow through each one to the waiting world. The cross is the pathway to the resurrection kind of life.

Once you’ve been to the cross, everything changes. Stumbling blocks and foolishness turn into power and wisdom. The Cross changes everything. If something’s pursuing us, then perhaps the event that will change everything is the Cross. If nothing is changing, maybe we haven’t been to the Cross. We cannot carry the same world-changing cross Jesus took up the hill, but we can carry a cross capable of changing our world. It’s smaller, it fits us, and it waits for us each day.

This week’s meditation isn’t morbid or self-loathing. It merely asks whether we have given our lives to the Lord only once or whether we make the same choice each new morning. It looks to imitate the Lord himself with the same hope of reward. Am I willing to die each day, again and again? If so, the resurrection kind of life can become a daily fact of life.

Jesus: My Favorite Old Testament Priest

2011-08-18T10:32:00.003-04:00

I have a friend who ends every prayer with, “Forgive us for the many ways we’ve failed you, In Your name we pray, Amen.” It doesn’t matter if he’s blessing the food before a meal or asking for wisdom in an important decision. The closing is his default praise, like a customized signature at the end of every email.

I’m sure he’s sincere--every time he prays it. Yet I wonder if Jesus ever gets tired of hearing it. Do you think Infinite Patience ever rolls his eyes at something that just gets old? OK, that’s snarky, I know. But no friendship or marriage on earth could survive if one partner constantly affirmed, “I’m no good.” What kind of relationship requires a constant--constant--rehashing of our inadequacy? I’d like to suggest an answer: an Old Testament relationship.

The book of Hebrews discusses the practice of forgiveness before Jesus came:

The law is only a shadow of the good things that are coming—not the realities themselves. For this reason it can never, by the same sacrifices repeated endlessly year after year, make perfect those who draw near to worship. Otherwise, would they not have stopped being offered? For the worshipers would have been cleansed once for all, and would no longer have felt guilty for their sins. But those sacrifices are an annual reminder of sins. (Hebrews 10: 1-3, my emphasis)

Note the final phrase: the people of Old Testament experienced an annual reminder of their sins. My friend reminds himself of his sin as often as he prays. The unspoken message is that he was powerless against sin before he came to Jesus and he is apparently powerless against it after he received him.

Dallas Willard refers to this as miserable sinner theology. Simply put, if we are told often enough that we are miserable sinners who are unable to overcome our shortcomings in God’s eyes, sooner or later we will begin to see ourselves in that light—even though we have turned to Christ! This problem is widespread: the substance of most evangelical preaching is "sin management." (Willard again) by which Christians are reminded of their sin problem and God’s sin solution. It reinforces the idea they can find forgiveness apart from the call to come and follow Jesus. Yet following Jesus includes the possibility of being formed into his likeness.

Since many believers only hear about God’s grace in the context of forgiveness, their expectation of the Christian life is a cycle of sin, forgiveness, and more sin. Perhaps most dangerously, the presence of sin is considered normal in the life of a believer. Any real attempt at imitating Jesus is considered a presumption upon God’s grace because we cannot save ourselves through “works.” The Apostle Paul had a larger vision for the grace of God. It included the possibly of learning how to say “no” to ungodliness (Titus 2: 11-12). The grace of God in Jesus Christ is so much bigger than forgiveness: it does forgive, but it also teaches. Perhaps that’s why Willard says that God’s grace is not opposed to effort, but it is opposed to earning. Two pretty different things, aren’t they?

It’s not just a problem with our understanding of grace, it’s also our understanding of Jesus: his message, his sacrifice, his Kingdom and his mission for us. To see the work of Jesus as only an endless offering for sin is to consign him to the Old Testament priesthood.

Surely his is a greater priesthood, capable of altering us at the very core. I’m grateful that he paid the price for my sin--eternally grateful. I am also grateful for his resurrection empowerment, which is capable of changing me from the inside out. Perhaps we can usher Jesus out of the Temple once and for all, and receive him not only as the source of forgiveness, but also the Master teacher of life.

Monday's Meditation: With a god like that, who needs a devil?

2011-08-15T10:02:00.000-04:00

Some images go beyond metaphor. They are deep-down truth. We can meditate on deep-down truth each day of our lives; such truth will never run dry because we are in touch with the fabric of creation, the heart of God. Perhaps today we could muse on the revelation that, as followers of Jesus, God is our Father.

He’s not like a father. He is our Father. It’s how the universe works: the transcendent creator of the universe, the One who spun the galaxies off his fingertips while wisdom danced with delight, is our Father. And Jesus, the Son, came to reveal the Father so that we might see him and grow in the family likeness. Consider this simple statement from the Perfect Son:

“Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7: 9-11)

These words of Jesus are vital to our everyday walk with God.

Many believers have no trouble with the idea that God is great and powerful. We have been told all our lives of the power of God. We have not been told enough of his role as Father. If we see the greatness of God without recognizing his Father’s heart, we will find ourselves at a distance from him. Because of his greatness and majesty, God is capable of working all things after the counsel of his will. The thoughts and plans of humanity cannot overcome the purpose of God. Yet apart from understanding the nature of his fatherhood, we are tempted to see every event in our lives as the work of the all-powerful God. A few examples:

“My cancer is a gift from God,” says a daughter of God. “Through this ordeal I have discovered his tender care and the love of my family.”
“I wouldn’t trade that auto accident for anything,” says a son of God. “Even though I am paralyzed I realize it was God’s will to humble me.”
“When my spouse left me I was devastated,” says a child of God. “Now I see it was God’s plan all along.”

To be sure, the Father is at work in each of these settings, bringing grace and hope to the lives of each one touched by the sin and sorrow of this world: but are we really willing to say that our Heavenly Father is the author of such things? With a god like that, who needs a devil? What earthly parent would bestow sickness, accident or betrayal upon their children?

Like any loving parent, our Heavenly Father is present through times of trial and sorrow which are inevitable in a sinful and ailing world. Unlike an earthly parent the Heavenly Father has the wisdom and power to redeem the loss, repair the hurt, and bring a greater good beyond the tragedy.

So many of us are convinced of God’s power. Are we equally convinced of his goodness? I’d like to suggest this week we should meditate on the staggering revelation of Father.

Follow the Loser

2011-08-11T11:19:00.013-04:00

The class held about thirty students. A class that size guarantees a mix of sleepers, zombies, texters and those rare few who participate in discussion. We spent the whole hour talking about the words of Jesus, “Be perfect as your Heavenly Father is perfect.” Is is possible? Can we really become like God? Was Jesus serious?

One student seemed to pay particular attention but hadn’t spoken up once during the period. I decided to draw her into the discussion: “We’re just about done for today. Tiffanie, you’ve been listening hard but haven’t offered your opinion. Why don’t you have the last word?”

She shifted in her seat uncomfortably and said, “I don’t know if He was serious, but one thing’s for sure: you ain’t Jesus.”

She got that right.

Yet somehow Jesus asks us to lift our vision higher--high enough to see the possibilities of becoming like our Heavenly Father. That’s a problem: how are we to become like him? The problem grows deeper when we discover that he has ordained the use of imperfect and frail human beings to shape others into the image of Christ.

Most believers quickly jump to the defense of their own shortcomings with the excuse, “I’m not Jesus.” Of course not. Who could be? So deeply do we hold the conviction that we cannot measure up, it also becomes our handy defense to keep other believers at arms length--far enough away to prevent them from effectively shaping us into the image of Jesus.

We welcome the idea that--someday--we will be conformed to the image of Christ. We‘re a little fuzzier on how, exactly, that happens. The answer is both obvious and surprising: the Father uses other people to fashion us into the pattern of Christ.

For many Christians, this is a frightening prospect. This conversation could happen at nearly any church between an earnest disciple and a pastor:

“You're trying to change me!” complains the disciple.

“You don't think you need to change?” asks the pastor.

“Well, yes, but not by you!”

In other words, we acknowledge our need of Christlikeness but feel no one is qualified to help effect the change.

How does our perfect Lord expect imperfect people to shape others into his image? The hyper-spiritual answer is usually, “No one can do that: He has to do it, by his Spirit.” Such an answer sounds spiritual, but ignores that God has chosen to much of his work through other people.

“Be imitators of me, just as I also am of Christ.”

The Apostle Paul had little trouble offering himself as an example of the path to spiritual transformation. Was he proud, or practical? His words appear at the end of a long theological discussion about whether the Christians of that day should eat meet offered to pagan idols (1 Corinthians 10 & 11). The real issue was whether these believers would judge one another over the choices they made. Sound familiar? Finally, after looking at all sides of the question, Paul got practical: “Look, just do what I do.” He could offer himself as an example not because he was so smart, but because he could demonstrate how to live in peace among Christians of differing opinion. The unspoken message is that Christlikeness is not a matter of opinion, but of how we live out our life with one another. Having examples helps: not amount of theology can replace the need for a living example.

Paul had no trouble suggesting that Timothy should follow his example: “You, however, know all about my teaching, my way of life, my purpose . . . But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of, because you know those from whom you learned it” (2 Timothy 3: 10 & 14) And this is from Paul, who earlier described himself to Timothy as “the foremost of sinners!”

What about us? Do we have someone to imitate? Before we jump in with the spiritual answer, I imitate Jesus, perhaps we should consider if Jesus himself has not given us someone a little closer to home as an intermediate step. Who can I imitate? It worked for Timothy, and it worked for Paul.

I can almost hear the voice of that girl from my classroom: “One thing’s for sure: you ain’t Paul, either!”

Monday's Meditation: Ministry and Grief

2011-08-08T09:56:00.004-04:00

John the Baptist was a great man. So great, Jesus said, that up until his day, no one born of a woman was greater than John. Yet in Matthew’s gospel (chapter 14) we read of his death: a death so random, unfortunate and petty we could be excused for looking up from the pages to ask, “Father, how could you let this happen?” I wonder if Jesus had the same question.

In the verses that follow the news of John’s death we are given a window into how Jesus dealt with bad news. There are at least five meditations on how to process the senseless sadness we sometimes encounter:

Jesus had the experience of receiving unexpected bad news. (v13) We are not alone in our surprise and grief: our Lord himself lived through events unforeseen and had to deal with shock and sadness. When we are overcome with senseless suffering we will find Jesus there with us.
Jesus needed space and time to process: “When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place” (v13). This was his way. Time and again the gospels share one of the primary sources of the Lord’s strength--he took measures to be alone with the Father. The solitary place need not be the place grief, it can also be the place of comfort.
Sometimes events overtake our personal needs: “Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick” (vs 13-14). Most people knew nothing or cared little for Jesus’ sadness. They had their own sadness, and they looked to him for relief. Amazingly, Jesus didn’t hang “Do Not Disturb” on the doorknob. He was filled with compassion for them and took action. Setting aside his own need, he modeled for us again that the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve others.
Jesus taught the disciples to follow his example: “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat” (v16). At least two of Jesus’ disciples had been with John the Baptist previously. The Lord wanted them to focus on the needs of others as those needs presented themselves. Five thousand people were fed, even as Jesus and his disciples wrestled with their own pain. It’s a parable: when we are weak, he is strong. Miraculously strong on behalf of others.
Still, Jesus needed time alone: “After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. Later that night, he was there alone” (v23). Events had overtaken Jesus’ original plan. The narrative starts with him slipping away in a boat for some down time. He remembered his initial purpose and took the opportunity to see it through. Jesus demonstrates the balance between his own need and the needs of others. Even while he displayed compassion he did not lose sight of his deep need to process with the Father. Eventually he got there. With some intentionality we can, too.

These five meditations are ours for the taking. The life Jesus lived was a life just like ours. He modeled the way of peace, both for himself and others.