"Happy are those servants whom the master finds waiting up when he arrives. I assure you that, when he arrives, he will dress himself to serve, seat them at the table as honored guests, and wait on them. Happy are those whom he finds alert, even if he comes at midnight or just before dawn." Luke 12:37-38 (CEB)
I confess ... I have seen an episode or two of Duck Dynasty and I get Phil Robertson's expression of contentment and gratitude: happy, happy, happy. Usually, he utters those words around a lovely experience of family, of teaching/learning a life lesson that's steeped in God's grace, or of a great bowl of Mrs. Kay's gumbo. Truth be told, when we - no, I'll own it - when I consider myself "happy, happy, happy" it's generally because my needs have been met, my preferences have been recognized, or those 'things' that bring me joy and contentment have come to me.
That's the reason Jesus' words here really grab my attention. If things really are according to my own experience(s), shouldn't he have said something to the effect of ... 'happy is the master who finds his servants behaving well when he arrives"? Happiness here is not about getting what you want or expect or what you think IS the right thing; happiness here is about discovering a new depth of relationship with one's master.
So, I'm led to recognize that MY happiness is not just about ME. If I dare consider myself a servant of Christ, Master Jesus is telling me that there is a happiness I can't even imagine. A happiness that I will experience when I see and know my Master in a new, intimate way. The Master isn't into passing out pats on the back, or bonus checks, or new titles just because we've been vigilant in our work and kept at it no matter how long it takes for him to show up. The Master, instead, gives us himself in a new way. Face-to-face, intentional places of honor ... he serves those who have shown their love for and commitment to him by serving him.
Lord Jesus, forgive me for seeking, wanting, embracing happiness that's basically about my own appetites being satiated and about me finding comfort. Forgive me for that because it's a settling for things, though wonderful, that are not deep-well happiness that comes in my relationship with you. You want me to know a deep happiness that comes in feasting and fellowship with you in ways that come only when you set the table. So, Lord, give me courage and energy to serve however I'm asked or needed, knowing that there is a fellowship coming with you that is sweeter, deeper than I can even imagine or ask. And, help me remember that the deep sweetness of that fellowship comes in waiting on you, waiting for you .. sure of your unpredictable coming, surer still of your love for me. Let it be so.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Mismatched Me
"Watch out for the yeast of the Pharisees - I mean, the mismatch between their hearts and lives ... whatever you have said in the darkness will be heard in the light, and whatever you have whispered in the rooms deep inside the house will be announced from the rooftops." Luke 12:1b, 3 (CEB)
Oops. Jesus just called us out on our own arrogance ... thinking that I can think one thing and actually be another. It just doesn't work that way.
Bishop Bill McAlilly recently said in a sermon that it's just not possible to "think your way into a new way of walking. We must walk our way into a new way of thinking." The transformation of our minds, of our thought life is an issue Paul deals with, too: Don't conform to the world's way of doing things (read: being comfortable with mismatched hearts and lives), but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. (Romans 12:2) And, Jesus, challenged those who would/could hear him to love God with all our mind (Matthew 22), not just our heart, soul, and strength as the Shema bids us in Deuteronomy 6. Attitude makes all the difference in the world. And, what is attitude but my thoughts and beliefs about myself, about you, about life, about the world, about God ... ?
The mismatch that Jesus called out was the belief that it's okay to harbor those whispered dark thoughts whether they ever cross our lips or simply jump around the synapses of our brains. He even said, you read it, that those things we whisper to ourselves or to others in the quiet, dark places of our living will be as if they're shouted from the rooftops.
Uh-oh. Most of my thoughts? That's not gonna be a problem. They won't be very interesting; as a matter of fact, the simplicity of them might be frustrating for you, embarrassing for me. But, there are a few. In moments of anger and disappointment, when I don't gee-haw with someone and when I've been hurt, in those moments, my thoughts and sometimes my words ... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want those shouted from the rooftops. My guess is ('cause I've read the book of James), you've got the same problem.
Lord Jesus, it's true that we are what we eat; truer still that we are what we think. But, we fool ourselves into believing that since nobody "heard" that, they'll never know. But, the thought/beliefs/words that roll around in our minds determine our attitude and sometimes those words spill out of our mouths doing even more damage. What's worse, I know that those thoughts and beliefs take root in our hearts. Uproot anything that doesn't match you, Jesus. I don't want to be mismatched in heart and life; I want you to be the center and reflection of all that I think, say, and do! Transform my mind, teach me how to love you with my mind to that end ... that all of who I am matches for the world to see that I belong to you! Let it be so.
Oops. Jesus just called us out on our own arrogance ... thinking that I can think one thing and actually be another. It just doesn't work that way.
Bishop Bill McAlilly recently said in a sermon that it's just not possible to "think your way into a new way of walking. We must walk our way into a new way of thinking." The transformation of our minds, of our thought life is an issue Paul deals with, too: Don't conform to the world's way of doing things (read: being comfortable with mismatched hearts and lives), but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. (Romans 12:2) And, Jesus, challenged those who would/could hear him to love God with all our mind (Matthew 22), not just our heart, soul, and strength as the Shema bids us in Deuteronomy 6. Attitude makes all the difference in the world. And, what is attitude but my thoughts and beliefs about myself, about you, about life, about the world, about God ... ?
The mismatch that Jesus called out was the belief that it's okay to harbor those whispered dark thoughts whether they ever cross our lips or simply jump around the synapses of our brains. He even said, you read it, that those things we whisper to ourselves or to others in the quiet, dark places of our living will be as if they're shouted from the rooftops.
Uh-oh. Most of my thoughts? That's not gonna be a problem. They won't be very interesting; as a matter of fact, the simplicity of them might be frustrating for you, embarrassing for me. But, there are a few. In moments of anger and disappointment, when I don't gee-haw with someone and when I've been hurt, in those moments, my thoughts and sometimes my words ... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want those shouted from the rooftops. My guess is ('cause I've read the book of James), you've got the same problem.
Lord Jesus, it's true that we are what we eat; truer still that we are what we think. But, we fool ourselves into believing that since nobody "heard" that, they'll never know. But, the thought/beliefs/words that roll around in our minds determine our attitude and sometimes those words spill out of our mouths doing even more damage. What's worse, I know that those thoughts and beliefs take root in our hearts. Uproot anything that doesn't match you, Jesus. I don't want to be mismatched in heart and life; I want you to be the center and reflection of all that I think, say, and do! Transform my mind, teach me how to love you with my mind to that end ... that all of who I am matches for the world to see that I belong to you! Let it be so.
Cleaned Up and Decorated
"When an unclean spirit leaves a person, it wanders through dry places looking for a place to rest. But it doesn't find any. Then it says, 'I'll go back to the house I left.' When it arrives it finds the house cleaned up and decorated. Then it goes and brings with it seven other spirits more evil than itself. They go in and make their home there ..." Luke 11:24-26a (CEB)
Jesus has been talking about spiritual awareness and preparation when this passage shows up in Luke's gospel. The frankness of Jesus' warning is disturbing at the least. Two challenges I hear in his brief exchange around unclean spirits in the average Joe and Jane ...
One, WHEN an unclean spirit leaves makes it sound like the coming and going of such is no surprise, at least to Jesus. His words are a reminder to me that Pierre Tielhard de Chardin's words are true: "we are not human beings have a spiritual experience; we have spiritual beings having a human experience." There is constantly spirit-ual work going on around us and within us, but often I'm just glad to get through the day fairly unscathed and give no thought to what or Who drives, leads, guides, teaches, pushes, influences and companions me.
Second, when 'someone' is finally rid of that unclean spirit ... you/I have to do more than tidy up in order to gain ground. I love the CEB translation as it describes the house as "cleaned up and decorated." It's almost as if Jesus is hinting at the kind of fasting that folks like me often participate in. I uncomfortably deprive myself of something that is of little consequence to me (chip and dip, etc.) but replace it with nothing that's specifically and especially of God (more time in the Word, or praying, or serving the poor, etc.). Almost like I'm holding my breath until I can get through the season. I clean myself up, decorate the place, but it's still as empty as can be. Jesus talks about insides and outsides with the Pharisees, challenging them to remember that just because the inside is hidden doesn't mean that it won't be known for what it is. That spirit that's still looking for a place to reside will appreciate the new decor, the spring-cleaning that makes it more comfortable to take up residence in the space that hasn't changed emotionally, mentally, or spiritually.
Jesus' words are a great reminder for me that if there's not more of Jesus in me as I grow in Him, the changes are little more than sprucing up and redecorating. I want Jesus to live in every corner of who I am ... but, that's gonna mean I've got to let him see the cobwebs and junk drawers that, until now, I would have sworn didn't exist.
Lord Jesus, come into every corner of my life. Convert every corner and every closet and drawer of my life into your residence. May the world look at me and know that I belong to you because of my words, my attitudes, my actions, my countenance. Boy, do you have your work cut out for you - cleaning all the junk out. I'm glad to help, but you'll have to push me because I'm embarrassed and afraid of what I see in me. But, I don't the void to be left. No kidding, fill me with the Spirit so that there is only room for your peace, your grace, your love ... for you. Let it be so.
Jesus has been talking about spiritual awareness and preparation when this passage shows up in Luke's gospel. The frankness of Jesus' warning is disturbing at the least. Two challenges I hear in his brief exchange around unclean spirits in the average Joe and Jane ...
One, WHEN an unclean spirit leaves makes it sound like the coming and going of such is no surprise, at least to Jesus. His words are a reminder to me that Pierre Tielhard de Chardin's words are true: "we are not human beings have a spiritual experience; we have spiritual beings having a human experience." There is constantly spirit-ual work going on around us and within us, but often I'm just glad to get through the day fairly unscathed and give no thought to what or Who drives, leads, guides, teaches, pushes, influences and companions me.
Second, when 'someone' is finally rid of that unclean spirit ... you/I have to do more than tidy up in order to gain ground. I love the CEB translation as it describes the house as "cleaned up and decorated." It's almost as if Jesus is hinting at the kind of fasting that folks like me often participate in. I uncomfortably deprive myself of something that is of little consequence to me (chip and dip, etc.) but replace it with nothing that's specifically and especially of God (more time in the Word, or praying, or serving the poor, etc.). Almost like I'm holding my breath until I can get through the season. I clean myself up, decorate the place, but it's still as empty as can be. Jesus talks about insides and outsides with the Pharisees, challenging them to remember that just because the inside is hidden doesn't mean that it won't be known for what it is. That spirit that's still looking for a place to reside will appreciate the new decor, the spring-cleaning that makes it more comfortable to take up residence in the space that hasn't changed emotionally, mentally, or spiritually.
Jesus' words are a great reminder for me that if there's not more of Jesus in me as I grow in Him, the changes are little more than sprucing up and redecorating. I want Jesus to live in every corner of who I am ... but, that's gonna mean I've got to let him see the cobwebs and junk drawers that, until now, I would have sworn didn't exist.
Lord Jesus, come into every corner of my life. Convert every corner and every closet and drawer of my life into your residence. May the world look at me and know that I belong to you because of my words, my attitudes, my actions, my countenance. Boy, do you have your work cut out for you - cleaning all the junk out. I'm glad to help, but you'll have to push me because I'm embarrassed and afraid of what I see in me. But, I don't the void to be left. No kidding, fill me with the Spirit so that there is only room for your peace, your grace, your love ... for you. Let it be so.
Monday, March 17, 2014
But ... Moved with Compassion
"A Samaritan, who was on a journey, came to where the man was. But when he saw him, he was moved with compassion." Luke 10:33 (CEB)
You know the story, is my guess, just by the mention of his ethnic background. The good Samaritan's story teaches us from our earliest days about doing good for others. The measure with which this man in Jesus' story does good is astounding! He deals with his "enemy" with kindness and generosity seemingly without a second thought or a cringe (even when he saw the final bill!). I think the treasured lesson for maturing Jesus-followers is deeper still.
It's hard to move past the fact that there are two others, both of whom one would think know better this business of kindness and generosity like God doles out. The priest and the Levite are both Jews answering a call by God on their lives and they are on the same road as their 'brother' who's been beaten to a pulp and left for dead. Maybe it's a fair assumption that the priest was about priestly business and the Levite on his way to do what Levites do. They both crossed over to the other side, presumably to keep from being made unclean, or contaminated, by the misfortune and brokenness of this man. Whether it's fair or not to assume so of these two, it is indesputable that Jesus paints an entirely different picture of the Samaritan about his own business.
The CEB translation says he was on a journey. He had some intention toward which he was travelling - a place, a task, a hope; whatever it was, he was on his way. He came to the same place - a realization, a horror, a dilemma - just as the others before him did. But. BUT. BUT, the Samaritan was moved with compassion. He must act. He can't leave this fella here alone, unattended, at death's door. He set aside everything in and for that moment. His journey, his business, his possible prejudice about his 'enemy,' maybe more. He set it aside because of compassion.
Sympathetic concern for another's sufferings and misfortunes. That's what pushed this Samaritan to act with such kindness and generosity. Compassion made him set everything aside to pay attention to this beaten, broken, dying man. I struggle to make eye contact with the man who stands with the cardboard sign at Highland and Sam Cooper as I drive by most mornings. I may not be travelling by on the other side, but I keep my window rolled up and avert my eyes so as not to be distracted from my business or moved by my brother's misfortune. And, there are a jillion other examples I could give of how folks like you and me work hard to keep from being moved by compassion.
My guess is that we're afraid of the cost of being moved by compassion. Thank God, compassion was more important than convenience or comfort as Jesus set his face toward Jerusalem and began that last journey toward the cross.
Lord Jesus, 'thank you!' sounds so empty in the face of the kindness and generosity that cost you everything ... on my behalf. For your compassion I will be forever grateful; teach me to show that gratitude in the way I am moved by compassion for my brothers and sisters. Teach me to be like the Samaritan who knew what was truly important and not count the cost of loving my neighbor. I guess what I'm asking is that you would change my mind and my heart that I would love like you love me. Let it be so ...
You know the story, is my guess, just by the mention of his ethnic background. The good Samaritan's story teaches us from our earliest days about doing good for others. The measure with which this man in Jesus' story does good is astounding! He deals with his "enemy" with kindness and generosity seemingly without a second thought or a cringe (even when he saw the final bill!). I think the treasured lesson for maturing Jesus-followers is deeper still.
It's hard to move past the fact that there are two others, both of whom one would think know better this business of kindness and generosity like God doles out. The priest and the Levite are both Jews answering a call by God on their lives and they are on the same road as their 'brother' who's been beaten to a pulp and left for dead. Maybe it's a fair assumption that the priest was about priestly business and the Levite on his way to do what Levites do. They both crossed over to the other side, presumably to keep from being made unclean, or contaminated, by the misfortune and brokenness of this man. Whether it's fair or not to assume so of these two, it is indesputable that Jesus paints an entirely different picture of the Samaritan about his own business.
The CEB translation says he was on a journey. He had some intention toward which he was travelling - a place, a task, a hope; whatever it was, he was on his way. He came to the same place - a realization, a horror, a dilemma - just as the others before him did. But. BUT. BUT, the Samaritan was moved with compassion. He must act. He can't leave this fella here alone, unattended, at death's door. He set aside everything in and for that moment. His journey, his business, his possible prejudice about his 'enemy,' maybe more. He set it aside because of compassion.
Sympathetic concern for another's sufferings and misfortunes. That's what pushed this Samaritan to act with such kindness and generosity. Compassion made him set everything aside to pay attention to this beaten, broken, dying man. I struggle to make eye contact with the man who stands with the cardboard sign at Highland and Sam Cooper as I drive by most mornings. I may not be travelling by on the other side, but I keep my window rolled up and avert my eyes so as not to be distracted from my business or moved by my brother's misfortune. And, there are a jillion other examples I could give of how folks like you and me work hard to keep from being moved by compassion.
My guess is that we're afraid of the cost of being moved by compassion. Thank God, compassion was more important than convenience or comfort as Jesus set his face toward Jerusalem and began that last journey toward the cross.
Lord Jesus, 'thank you!' sounds so empty in the face of the kindness and generosity that cost you everything ... on my behalf. For your compassion I will be forever grateful; teach me to show that gratitude in the way I am moved by compassion for my brothers and sisters. Teach me to be like the Samaritan who knew what was truly important and not count the cost of loving my neighbor. I guess what I'm asking is that you would change my mind and my heart that I would love like you love me. Let it be so ...
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Power and Authority
"Jesus called the Twelve together and he gave them power and authority over all demons and to heal sicknesses. He sent them out to proclaim God's kingdom and to heal the sick..." Luke 9:1-2 (CEB)
"He replied, 'You give them something to eat.' But they said, 'We have no more than ...' " Luke 9:13 (CEB)
" 'I begged your disciples to throw [the spirit] out, but they couldn't.' " Luke 9:40 (CEB)
[Words appearing in italics and emboldened appear so by my own choice.]
As defined by Webster, power is "the ability to do or act; vigor; force; strength." And authority? Permission, invitation, or the right to act. Jesus gave his disciples both. Through Christ, they had the ability and the invitation to act on his behalf, to do things that only Christ could do. I would argue that all Jesus' disciples have been given those two 'things." Ability and permission, invitation.
Funny how the picture of the Twelve reflects the very struggle that you and I live in as modern-day disciples. Having been blessed, empowered, and dispatched, they lived for a short season in that power and authority and, then, forgot who and whose they were. The disciples recognized the people's physical hunger as surely as they witnessed the spiritual hunger being fed in Jesus' presence that day. Jesus says, in essence, YOU do it, YOU feed them ... and all they could see was their lack. "We have no more than ..." Truth is they had much more than fish and bread, but forgot what they'd been given.
Need another example? While Peter, James, and John are with Jesus as he's transfigured before their eyes, the other disciples are with others, maybe even alone at the foot of that mountain. And, one of those others is a man whose son has been tormented maybe his whole life. He begs the disciples to deliver his son from this disease/demon and it just doesn't happen. Truth is they had been given the power and authority (the ability and the permission, even invitation) to heal ... and they just couldn't do it.
Maybe the deeper understanding of the gap we experience in the disciples' faith journeys is found in our own encounters with the world as Jesus-followers. Power is most often defined or lived out in the world as power OVER something or someone. Authority, in cultural perspective, is about being the expert voice ... with little regard, if any, for the invitation or permission to speak into a situation or to a person as if we had authority. We want to exert control, to manage the people and the circumstances of our lives; we want to be powerful, but it is my conviction that we don't see our power as a gift from God for the greater good, for ushering in the kingdom. We want to be strong enough to persevere, yes. But, that's about ourselves, and rarely about anyone else, much less the full kingdom of God.
And, authority. We're experts on everything ... on the self-inflicted plight of Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus; on keeping up with the Kardashians and every other celebrity personality; on political squabbles within and beyond our own country; and, certainly on what's wrong with the Church today. We're mouthy but we do not live with authority. As you may have read in my Luke 7 post, I believe our biggest challenge is that we do not live a life of faith in an authoritative way because we have little idea at all what it means to be under authority. We're our own bosses. It's not their own authority that Jesus intended that the disciples live by ... he gave them his. That's the only way healing and wholeness are found, that the Truth is spoken, that those bound and captivated by other than God are set free. Not by our strength, but by God's through us.
Bottom line - you cannot give away what you do not have. The disciples couldn't feed those hungry people because they couldn't see that they had at their disposal (not for their own good, but for the good of the world) the Bread of Life. They couldn't deliver that boy from his demons because they had to be delivered from their own first, that of fear. We think of young David as audacious in his faith as he found his way in front of Goliath, but really he was living into the power and authority given to God's people by their Creator. The promise had already been made, all the Israelite army had to do was step into the promise and pick up their armor. Nobody remembered the promise but David; he was only there to deliver groceries, but seems he was the only agent of God who could pronounce deliverance by defeating Goliath. It was his stone alright, but thrown in God's power and authority that brought Goliath down.
Lord Jesus, I want to live an authoritative, powerful life. Not as if I'm some superhero with my cape flapping in the breeze ready to tackle anything and anyone in life. No, but as a child of yours, standing firm in your tender grace because that's enough. Give me power, not for myself or for my life circumstance, but power for your kingdom, your world because mine is not enough. Not enough to stand against evil, to speak your Truth over the voices of compromise, to remember and claim victory in the uphill battle that is life on this side of glory. But, YOU are enough. And, you are audacious enough to share your power and authority with folks like little ol' me. Help me live a life worthy of your love and mercy, sweet Jesus. Let it be so.
"He replied, 'You give them something to eat.' But they said, 'We have no more than ...' " Luke 9:13 (CEB)
" 'I begged your disciples to throw [the spirit] out, but they couldn't.' " Luke 9:40 (CEB)
[Words appearing in italics and emboldened appear so by my own choice.]
As defined by Webster, power is "the ability to do or act; vigor; force; strength." And authority? Permission, invitation, or the right to act. Jesus gave his disciples both. Through Christ, they had the ability and the invitation to act on his behalf, to do things that only Christ could do. I would argue that all Jesus' disciples have been given those two 'things." Ability and permission, invitation.
Funny how the picture of the Twelve reflects the very struggle that you and I live in as modern-day disciples. Having been blessed, empowered, and dispatched, they lived for a short season in that power and authority and, then, forgot who and whose they were. The disciples recognized the people's physical hunger as surely as they witnessed the spiritual hunger being fed in Jesus' presence that day. Jesus says, in essence, YOU do it, YOU feed them ... and all they could see was their lack. "We have no more than ..." Truth is they had much more than fish and bread, but forgot what they'd been given.
Need another example? While Peter, James, and John are with Jesus as he's transfigured before their eyes, the other disciples are with others, maybe even alone at the foot of that mountain. And, one of those others is a man whose son has been tormented maybe his whole life. He begs the disciples to deliver his son from this disease/demon and it just doesn't happen. Truth is they had been given the power and authority (the ability and the permission, even invitation) to heal ... and they just couldn't do it.
Maybe the deeper understanding of the gap we experience in the disciples' faith journeys is found in our own encounters with the world as Jesus-followers. Power is most often defined or lived out in the world as power OVER something or someone. Authority, in cultural perspective, is about being the expert voice ... with little regard, if any, for the invitation or permission to speak into a situation or to a person as if we had authority. We want to exert control, to manage the people and the circumstances of our lives; we want to be powerful, but it is my conviction that we don't see our power as a gift from God for the greater good, for ushering in the kingdom. We want to be strong enough to persevere, yes. But, that's about ourselves, and rarely about anyone else, much less the full kingdom of God.
And, authority. We're experts on everything ... on the self-inflicted plight of Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus; on keeping up with the Kardashians and every other celebrity personality; on political squabbles within and beyond our own country; and, certainly on what's wrong with the Church today. We're mouthy but we do not live with authority. As you may have read in my Luke 7 post, I believe our biggest challenge is that we do not live a life of faith in an authoritative way because we have little idea at all what it means to be under authority. We're our own bosses. It's not their own authority that Jesus intended that the disciples live by ... he gave them his. That's the only way healing and wholeness are found, that the Truth is spoken, that those bound and captivated by other than God are set free. Not by our strength, but by God's through us.
Bottom line - you cannot give away what you do not have. The disciples couldn't feed those hungry people because they couldn't see that they had at their disposal (not for their own good, but for the good of the world) the Bread of Life. They couldn't deliver that boy from his demons because they had to be delivered from their own first, that of fear. We think of young David as audacious in his faith as he found his way in front of Goliath, but really he was living into the power and authority given to God's people by their Creator. The promise had already been made, all the Israelite army had to do was step into the promise and pick up their armor. Nobody remembered the promise but David; he was only there to deliver groceries, but seems he was the only agent of God who could pronounce deliverance by defeating Goliath. It was his stone alright, but thrown in God's power and authority that brought Goliath down.
Lord Jesus, I want to live an authoritative, powerful life. Not as if I'm some superhero with my cape flapping in the breeze ready to tackle anything and anyone in life. No, but as a child of yours, standing firm in your tender grace because that's enough. Give me power, not for myself or for my life circumstance, but power for your kingdom, your world because mine is not enough. Not enough to stand against evil, to speak your Truth over the voices of compromise, to remember and claim victory in the uphill battle that is life on this side of glory. But, YOU are enough. And, you are audacious enough to share your power and authority with folks like little ol' me. Help me live a life worthy of your love and mercy, sweet Jesus. Let it be so.
Friday, February 28, 2014
If I Could Just ...
"In front of everyone, she explained why she had touched him and how she had been immediately healed. 'Daughter, your faith has healed you,' Jesus said. 'Go in peace.' " Luke 8:47b-48
The worship design team had planned a particular worship experience around the central theme of recognizing the presence of God in our daily living. We all agreed that asking some of our congregants to share their 'cardboard testimony' would be a great witness to such recognition of the transforming presence of God. There are no adequate words to describe the emotions behind the words in those conversations I had with about 40 folks, explaining what we wanted to do, why I was calling them, etc. In essence, I knew a little of their stories and was God's choice in helping them tell it more fully.
The Sunday morning came and at the close of the sermon, everyone took their place ... and it didn't look like the start of a livestock sale as about 40 folks got up and took their place just stage left of the worship platform. When the music began, so did their little parade. It was amazing! Each person walked to center-platform and held for their church family to read the few words or phrase that described his/her life before the presence of Christ. After a few seconds, they flipped the cardboard over to reveal the transformation in them because of Christ. One by one our friends bore witness to the transformation that Jesus brought to their lives; there are so many stories still etched in my minds with those scant words matched to faces that represent such journeys!! But, one in particular stops me in my tracks every time I hear this story of this encounter in scripture.
That Sunday morning, Jamie took center stage. She was a young mom facing her third recurrence of cancer. Struggling to figure out how to stay strong, to try hard yet again. She showed us the first side of her testimony: SCARED TO DEATH. No joke, who wouldn't be. Those who knew Jamie that morning began to cry because they were scared, too. As she turned her piece of cardboard over to reveal the impact of Christ's presence in her life, you could see it on her face and in her body before we read the words. As sick as she was, her backbone straightened a bit and that broad, beautiful smile of hers lit up the whole sanctuary. "TOUCHED THE HEM OF HIS ROBE." We all felt it, even those who didn't know her; we felt the victory that Jamie was claiming in Jesus Christ.
Jamie knew that healing was hers if she could just touch the hem of his robe. And, Jesus lets us do that. Man-handle him, that is. Touch, tug on, plead with, question and lean on ... he lets us do that just like he let that woman in the marketplace and the young woman dying because of cancer. But, Jamie learned that day when she felt the power of Jesus course through her that physical healing was but a smidgen of what Jesus is offering you and me ... and Jamie.
I know this: if I could just... is possible when I step out in faith. Jamie showed me how.
Lord Jesus, I feel you smiling on me, on us with the same kind of smile you gave Jamie. I am so very blessed that I got to see that marketplace walk right in front of me with her courage and determination to get to you no matter what. Give me what you gave Jamie, please? Not just for my own healing, but so that I can be that same example of courage and strength can mean. Amen.
The worship design team had planned a particular worship experience around the central theme of recognizing the presence of God in our daily living. We all agreed that asking some of our congregants to share their 'cardboard testimony' would be a great witness to such recognition of the transforming presence of God. There are no adequate words to describe the emotions behind the words in those conversations I had with about 40 folks, explaining what we wanted to do, why I was calling them, etc. In essence, I knew a little of their stories and was God's choice in helping them tell it more fully.
The Sunday morning came and at the close of the sermon, everyone took their place ... and it didn't look like the start of a livestock sale as about 40 folks got up and took their place just stage left of the worship platform. When the music began, so did their little parade. It was amazing! Each person walked to center-platform and held for their church family to read the few words or phrase that described his/her life before the presence of Christ. After a few seconds, they flipped the cardboard over to reveal the transformation in them because of Christ. One by one our friends bore witness to the transformation that Jesus brought to their lives; there are so many stories still etched in my minds with those scant words matched to faces that represent such journeys!! But, one in particular stops me in my tracks every time I hear this story of this encounter in scripture.
That Sunday morning, Jamie took center stage. She was a young mom facing her third recurrence of cancer. Struggling to figure out how to stay strong, to try hard yet again. She showed us the first side of her testimony: SCARED TO DEATH. No joke, who wouldn't be. Those who knew Jamie that morning began to cry because they were scared, too. As she turned her piece of cardboard over to reveal the impact of Christ's presence in her life, you could see it on her face and in her body before we read the words. As sick as she was, her backbone straightened a bit and that broad, beautiful smile of hers lit up the whole sanctuary. "TOUCHED THE HEM OF HIS ROBE." We all felt it, even those who didn't know her; we felt the victory that Jamie was claiming in Jesus Christ.
Jamie knew that healing was hers if she could just touch the hem of his robe. And, Jesus lets us do that. Man-handle him, that is. Touch, tug on, plead with, question and lean on ... he lets us do that just like he let that woman in the marketplace and the young woman dying because of cancer. But, Jamie learned that day when she felt the power of Jesus course through her that physical healing was but a smidgen of what Jesus is offering you and me ... and Jamie.
I know this: if I could just... is possible when I step out in faith. Jamie showed me how.
Lord Jesus, I feel you smiling on me, on us with the same kind of smile you gave Jamie. I am so very blessed that I got to see that marketplace walk right in front of me with her courage and determination to get to you no matter what. Give me what you gave Jamie, please? Not just for my own healing, but so that I can be that same example of courage and strength can mean. Amen.
Do You See ...?
"Jesus turned to the woman and said to Simon, 'Do you see this woman? ..." Luke 7:44a (CEB)
Most folks who know me know that this experience with Jesus is one of my favorites. A Pharisee has invited Jesus to his own home for dinner (with a hidden agenda not named in scripture, I'm certain). Surrounded by his friends and co-workers at this dinner party, he's not much of a host. Perhaps they're all accustomed to his cutting of corners in the hospitality department, but Jesus takes note of it. Not because the world would stop spinning just because Simon didn't provide a basin for Jesus to wash his feet or didn't greet him with a kiss. The hidden agenda was held, it seems, against most everybody Simon determined to be less than him.
A woman whose has been rescued by Jesus' love and grace makes her way into the party to love Jesus with her very best. She washes his feet with her tears, dries them with her hair, anoints him with what could very well be the key to her livelihood ... what she used to make herself attractive to her business partners, shall we say, she now lavished on Jesus only for the sake of love. It's Jesus' question that slays me ... do you see this woman? Really?!? She's probably the only one in the room, she's got the ugly girl-cry going on, and she's broken open an entire box of perfume. Yet, they didn't see her.
They didn't see her love for Jesus, they didn't see her bent toward hospitality when it wasn't even her turf, and they didn't see who she was becoming ... because they thought they already knew her and had judged her accordingly.
Hmmm.
Help me see your children, Lord, for who and whose they really are. We're all wrestling with something and somedays on the losing side of it. Those who stand on corners with cardboard signs, those who show up for the second time this week at a food pantry, those who are angry and defensive at every system that robs them of themselves and makes them a number or a category ... Thank you, Lord Jesus, for seeing me when others can't or won't.
I've heard it said that what others think of me is not my business. But, what I think of others is nobody's business BUT mine. Give me eyes that see like you see and a heart full of love for others, all others. A heart after your own. Deeper still, help me understand the full measure of love you hold for me, God, and be willing to share that with others no matter what, no strings attached. Let it be so.
Most folks who know me know that this experience with Jesus is one of my favorites. A Pharisee has invited Jesus to his own home for dinner (with a hidden agenda not named in scripture, I'm certain). Surrounded by his friends and co-workers at this dinner party, he's not much of a host. Perhaps they're all accustomed to his cutting of corners in the hospitality department, but Jesus takes note of it. Not because the world would stop spinning just because Simon didn't provide a basin for Jesus to wash his feet or didn't greet him with a kiss. The hidden agenda was held, it seems, against most everybody Simon determined to be less than him.
A woman whose has been rescued by Jesus' love and grace makes her way into the party to love Jesus with her very best. She washes his feet with her tears, dries them with her hair, anoints him with what could very well be the key to her livelihood ... what she used to make herself attractive to her business partners, shall we say, she now lavished on Jesus only for the sake of love. It's Jesus' question that slays me ... do you see this woman? Really?!? She's probably the only one in the room, she's got the ugly girl-cry going on, and she's broken open an entire box of perfume. Yet, they didn't see her.
They didn't see her love for Jesus, they didn't see her bent toward hospitality when it wasn't even her turf, and they didn't see who she was becoming ... because they thought they already knew her and had judged her accordingly.
Hmmm.
Help me see your children, Lord, for who and whose they really are. We're all wrestling with something and somedays on the losing side of it. Those who stand on corners with cardboard signs, those who show up for the second time this week at a food pantry, those who are angry and defensive at every system that robs them of themselves and makes them a number or a category ... Thank you, Lord Jesus, for seeing me when others can't or won't.
I've heard it said that what others think of me is not my business. But, what I think of others is nobody's business BUT mine. Give me eyes that see like you see and a heart full of love for others, all others. A heart after your own. Deeper still, help me understand the full measure of love you hold for me, God, and be willing to share that with others no matter what, no strings attached. Let it be so.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Under Authority, With Authority
"Just say the word and my servant will be healed. I'm also a man appointed under authority, with soldiers under me. I say to one, 'Go,' and he goes, and to another, 'Come,' and he comes. I say to my servant, 'Do this,' and the servant does it." When Jesus heard these words, he was impressed with the centurion. He turned to the crowd following him and said, 'I tell you, even in Israel I haven't found faith like this.' " Luke 7:7b-9 (CEB)
I think this experience, Jesus with the centurion, is crucial for anyone who calls himself or herself a disciple of Jesus Christ. For, in it the centurion boldly recognizes what many of us fail to recognize, or at best wrestle with, the length of our spiritual journey. Jesus is a man who lives in the balance of being under authority and wielding authority. The centurion is a man who lives in the balance of being under authority and wielding authority. We have evidence of Jesus living in that balance with grace and courage even when his expression of authority is challenging to the reader of the Word (even more so to the one who decides to follow). We don't have evidence of the centurion doing that, but the One who can and did discern the thoughts and attitudes of those who come to him is impressed. Just lip service by the centurion? I don't think so.
Leaves me wondering ... what does it look like for you and me, regular Joes and Janes, to live under authority? Two things, just to get started:
Once we can begin to figure out what living UNDER authority looks and feels like, we are expected to live OUT OF the authority that's been shared with us as those-who-follow-Jesus. Jesus gave his first disciples the authority to cast out demons, to heal, and to speak transforming Truth when they were sent out in Jesus' name. I'm thinking our marching orders are the same. Yes, we're to make disciples (not members!!), baptizing and teaching them. Are we teaching and modeling a tender-yet-bold way of living out our authority ... listening to people, loving people, but never fearing to speak the Truth, the bind and cast out all that is not of God, claiming healing and wholeness in the name of Jesus, and trusting His peace? Seems to me you can't speak the Truth if you don't know it, you can't give away that of God that you have not experienced, and you cannot claim for another person that of which you are not convinced is God's dream for each of us.
Guess we've gotta work on that ... if we're gonna get this authority balance down.
Lord Jesus, I cannot do what you do. Yet, you invite me, push me, trust me to try. Like Peter climbing out of the boat, I would rather figure it out and know how the healing, the truth-telling, the bold living, and the water-walking is gonna work BEFORE I step out there. I am coming to understand that living under your authority is a simply a life of surrender ... I give you my heart, my mind, my hands and feet and mouth so that through me you can love this world in all the ways it needs to be loved. I know that means I'll change in the process. For in surrendering I will know a new power from you, through you, that will propel me to love you more deeply, think like you, love like you as I stay connected to you. I'm getting it ... in surrendering to your authority, you enable to live with your authority. Help me keep that straight, my Savior, that your authority is a gift, not a perk and it all begins with surrender. I place myself under your authority, Jesus, even now. Amen.
I think this experience, Jesus with the centurion, is crucial for anyone who calls himself or herself a disciple of Jesus Christ. For, in it the centurion boldly recognizes what many of us fail to recognize, or at best wrestle with, the length of our spiritual journey. Jesus is a man who lives in the balance of being under authority and wielding authority. The centurion is a man who lives in the balance of being under authority and wielding authority. We have evidence of Jesus living in that balance with grace and courage even when his expression of authority is challenging to the reader of the Word (even more so to the one who decides to follow). We don't have evidence of the centurion doing that, but the One who can and did discern the thoughts and attitudes of those who come to him is impressed. Just lip service by the centurion? I don't think so.
Leaves me wondering ... what does it look like for you and me, regular Joes and Janes, to live under authority? Two things, just to get started:
- I'm not THE authority on anything no matter how long I've walked with Jesus, how deep my education, or THAT I've been ordained to work on His behalf. My experience, and so my knowledge, are limited at best. So, not everything or everybody is my business.
- I have been, according to scripture, been gifted with skills, talents, passions that are from God and, along with the fruits that the Spirit is growing in me, I am called and blessed to serve. But, I'm not ALL that ... there are great gaps in what I bring and what I do. It's my responsibility and privilege to receive what others bring to our common work and to celebrate how God works outside of me, too.
Once we can begin to figure out what living UNDER authority looks and feels like, we are expected to live OUT OF the authority that's been shared with us as those-who-follow-Jesus. Jesus gave his first disciples the authority to cast out demons, to heal, and to speak transforming Truth when they were sent out in Jesus' name. I'm thinking our marching orders are the same. Yes, we're to make disciples (not members!!), baptizing and teaching them. Are we teaching and modeling a tender-yet-bold way of living out our authority ... listening to people, loving people, but never fearing to speak the Truth, the bind and cast out all that is not of God, claiming healing and wholeness in the name of Jesus, and trusting His peace? Seems to me you can't speak the Truth if you don't know it, you can't give away that of God that you have not experienced, and you cannot claim for another person that of which you are not convinced is God's dream for each of us.
Guess we've gotta work on that ... if we're gonna get this authority balance down.
Lord Jesus, I cannot do what you do. Yet, you invite me, push me, trust me to try. Like Peter climbing out of the boat, I would rather figure it out and know how the healing, the truth-telling, the bold living, and the water-walking is gonna work BEFORE I step out there. I am coming to understand that living under your authority is a simply a life of surrender ... I give you my heart, my mind, my hands and feet and mouth so that through me you can love this world in all the ways it needs to be loved. I know that means I'll change in the process. For in surrendering I will know a new power from you, through you, that will propel me to love you more deeply, think like you, love like you as I stay connected to you. I'm getting it ... in surrendering to your authority, you enable to live with your authority. Help me keep that straight, my Savior, that your authority is a gift, not a perk and it all begins with surrender. I place myself under your authority, Jesus, even now. Amen.
Monday, February 17, 2014
He did WHAT?!
"Looking around at them all, [Jesus] said to the man, 'Stretch our your hand.' So he did and his hand was made healthy. They were furious and began talking with each other about what to do to Jesus." Luke 6:10-11 (CEB)
All of this business started because Jesus perceived a need and was determined to meet it ... on the Sabbath. Actually, there were many needs that Sabbath day; Jesus could perceive the withered hearts gathered in the same space as that withered hand. What he offered could have been healing salve for them, too, but they couldn't receive. Thought they were too good. That they were right.
Secretly, I feel the need to acknowledge what has always bothered me: at first read, the man with the withered hand is almost manhandled for the sake of healing. He didn't ask for it, the Pharisees in the crowd were using his need to bait Jesus, and Jesus called him out without any discussion (or seeming compassion either). That said, Jesus knows he has/is what the man needs. He is what all of us need desperately. And, I'm glad that Jesus doesn't wait for me to call on Him to offer what I need that only He can provide.
Back to the fella and his hand. The lesson that haunts me is hidden in verse 11. They watch this "friend" restored in front of their very eyes and that restoration wasn't just a physical restoration. The healing would, in fact, have restored him to his family, to his faith community, and possibly to work and some new level of civic life. Yet ... they would not celebrate with their friend or praise God as the Source of this healing. They couldn't because they simply couldn't get past the rules that, in their minds, were broken to get to the place of redemption and renewal.
Be honest. It's the rules, mostly unwritten or scribed only in our own minds, that trip us up, too. "She" doesn't deserve the accolades, the attention, the appreciation that she's receiving; "he" shouldn't have been picked or promoted; don't you know who he is and what he's done ... where he's been?! I don't mean the Pharisees thought this fella didn't deserve healing. But again, isn't that what they mean by asserting that the Sabbath and its rules are more important than this broken man. The lesson haunts me because what's hidden in that closing verse is the reflection of my own sin, the sin of believing I know better that God.
Lord Jesus, I am so very glad that you don't wait on me to ask for all that I need. I am forever grateful that you pour yourself out for me and into me that I can know healing and hope for brokenness that I can't even name yet. My brother that Luke talks about ... he reminds me that there is more pharisee in me than I am comfortable admitting. And, so I'm asking ... restore my withered attitudes and hopes and fit me with blinders. Blinders that will keep me keenly focused on your healing presence and no longer distracted by extraneous rules, expectations, and false wisdom that would lead me to believe that I know better. You wisdom is always higher and I yield myself to you. The truth is I want to learn to celebrate all healing, all redemption, and all restoration. Refresh my withered spirit and I can ... let it be. Let it be.
All of this business started because Jesus perceived a need and was determined to meet it ... on the Sabbath. Actually, there were many needs that Sabbath day; Jesus could perceive the withered hearts gathered in the same space as that withered hand. What he offered could have been healing salve for them, too, but they couldn't receive. Thought they were too good. That they were right.
Secretly, I feel the need to acknowledge what has always bothered me: at first read, the man with the withered hand is almost manhandled for the sake of healing. He didn't ask for it, the Pharisees in the crowd were using his need to bait Jesus, and Jesus called him out without any discussion (or seeming compassion either). That said, Jesus knows he has/is what the man needs. He is what all of us need desperately. And, I'm glad that Jesus doesn't wait for me to call on Him to offer what I need that only He can provide.
Back to the fella and his hand. The lesson that haunts me is hidden in verse 11. They watch this "friend" restored in front of their very eyes and that restoration wasn't just a physical restoration. The healing would, in fact, have restored him to his family, to his faith community, and possibly to work and some new level of civic life. Yet ... they would not celebrate with their friend or praise God as the Source of this healing. They couldn't because they simply couldn't get past the rules that, in their minds, were broken to get to the place of redemption and renewal.
Be honest. It's the rules, mostly unwritten or scribed only in our own minds, that trip us up, too. "She" doesn't deserve the accolades, the attention, the appreciation that she's receiving; "he" shouldn't have been picked or promoted; don't you know who he is and what he's done ... where he's been?! I don't mean the Pharisees thought this fella didn't deserve healing. But again, isn't that what they mean by asserting that the Sabbath and its rules are more important than this broken man. The lesson haunts me because what's hidden in that closing verse is the reflection of my own sin, the sin of believing I know better that God.
Lord Jesus, I am so very glad that you don't wait on me to ask for all that I need. I am forever grateful that you pour yourself out for me and into me that I can know healing and hope for brokenness that I can't even name yet. My brother that Luke talks about ... he reminds me that there is more pharisee in me than I am comfortable admitting. And, so I'm asking ... restore my withered attitudes and hopes and fit me with blinders. Blinders that will keep me keenly focused on your healing presence and no longer distracted by extraneous rules, expectations, and false wisdom that would lead me to believe that I know better. You wisdom is always higher and I yield myself to you. The truth is I want to learn to celebrate all healing, all redemption, and all restoration. Refresh my withered spirit and I can ... let it be. Let it be.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
In This Together
"When Jesus saw their faith, he said, 'Friend, your sins are forgiven." Luke 5:20
This story of healing has always been a rich experience for me. From the beginning I've been bowled over by the selfless friends that carried this man into the presence of Jesus, especially since it involved a little craftiness and some drama. The feat of getting him to the roof ... digging through the ceiling (someone else's ceiling!). Now that's love for your friend. And, either desperation that grows from that love, or faith in Jesus. It couldn't hurt to try after all they'd heard; but trying was no small feat. Perhaps the combination of love and hope is what carried all the power.
But, I've been thinking about this. And, the verse above still baffles me. THEIR faith is what got Jesus' attention. At first read, that flies in the face of what I was taught growing up. I couldn't ride the faith-coattails of Mama or Daddy. It was up to me to work out my own salvation, get face-to-face with Jesus myself. So, what gives here?
Well, first, I believe that the fella on the pallet is a part of the 'they' and 'their.' He may not have been able to help himself get to the house or get to the roof, much less through it. But, he was an active participant. Imagine yourself lying on that pallet unable to help your friends as they determine they're gonna get you before this man, Jesus. Imagine the exertion of strength and energy along the journey however short or long; imagine the disappointment to find 'the place' only to see the crowd spilling out of the house leaving no room for them; imagine the determination of your friends as they work on plan B. Imagine receiving all that love. All of that ... not knowing what might or might not happen even if you get to meet this Jesus. So, second, I believe that the fella on the pallet is just as self-sacrificing as the others. His pride had to go; his ego had to go; he had to recognize that he had as much control of this effort as he had over his legs ... and, they didn't work. He participated by remaining open to the love of his friends, healing in its own rite, and the possibility of complete healing from Jesus. That, I'm convinced, is the hardest work of all. We ARE in this together and it is a right, even a righteous thing to experience someone else's love for you.
Lord, you know already how hard it is for me to be still and let your love for me seep deep inside me. Even tougher, it is, to be still and let someone else love me. I'd rather get busy showing them my gratitude, proving my love for them right back. But, I confess, that pulls me out of the moment and I miss feeling, seeing, knowing bits of that love because I'm already busy working on something else. Help me be still ... and know not only that you are God, but that you are loving me more than I could ever imagine. Especially through wonderful people. I'm glad I'm in it with the folks you've raised up in my life. I do want to love them faithfully and fully. But, today, I'm asking for a nudge or two that will help me receive fully their love for me. For, I count it as a gift from you! Let it be so, Lord. Let it be so.
This story of healing has always been a rich experience for me. From the beginning I've been bowled over by the selfless friends that carried this man into the presence of Jesus, especially since it involved a little craftiness and some drama. The feat of getting him to the roof ... digging through the ceiling (someone else's ceiling!). Now that's love for your friend. And, either desperation that grows from that love, or faith in Jesus. It couldn't hurt to try after all they'd heard; but trying was no small feat. Perhaps the combination of love and hope is what carried all the power.
But, I've been thinking about this. And, the verse above still baffles me. THEIR faith is what got Jesus' attention. At first read, that flies in the face of what I was taught growing up. I couldn't ride the faith-coattails of Mama or Daddy. It was up to me to work out my own salvation, get face-to-face with Jesus myself. So, what gives here?
Well, first, I believe that the fella on the pallet is a part of the 'they' and 'their.' He may not have been able to help himself get to the house or get to the roof, much less through it. But, he was an active participant. Imagine yourself lying on that pallet unable to help your friends as they determine they're gonna get you before this man, Jesus. Imagine the exertion of strength and energy along the journey however short or long; imagine the disappointment to find 'the place' only to see the crowd spilling out of the house leaving no room for them; imagine the determination of your friends as they work on plan B. Imagine receiving all that love. All of that ... not knowing what might or might not happen even if you get to meet this Jesus. So, second, I believe that the fella on the pallet is just as self-sacrificing as the others. His pride had to go; his ego had to go; he had to recognize that he had as much control of this effort as he had over his legs ... and, they didn't work. He participated by remaining open to the love of his friends, healing in its own rite, and the possibility of complete healing from Jesus. That, I'm convinced, is the hardest work of all. We ARE in this together and it is a right, even a righteous thing to experience someone else's love for you.
Lord, you know already how hard it is for me to be still and let your love for me seep deep inside me. Even tougher, it is, to be still and let someone else love me. I'd rather get busy showing them my gratitude, proving my love for them right back. But, I confess, that pulls me out of the moment and I miss feeling, seeing, knowing bits of that love because I'm already busy working on something else. Help me be still ... and know not only that you are God, but that you are loving me more than I could ever imagine. Especially through wonderful people. I'm glad I'm in it with the folks you've raised up in my life. I do want to love them faithfully and fully. But, today, I'm asking for a nudge or two that will help me receive fully their love for me. For, I count it as a gift from you! Let it be so, Lord. Let it be so.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Just What DO You Want For Me?
"When he saw Jesus, he fell on his face and begged, 'Lord, if you want, you can make me clean.' " Luke 5:12b (CEB)
What dangerous faith! The kind of faith that, I believe, God desires for each of us. I try to imagine myself in my brother's position ... small town life absolutely disrupted for this fellow of faith. Disrupted by disease that defined him as unclean. Once defined as unclean, he was isolated from most life-giving parts of his life (family, friends, work, faith family, ...) for fear that he would contaminate, corrupt, or endanger life for others through those circles.
So, it's not a stretch for any of us to imagine hitting our face and begging. Restore me!! Restore my life!! But, our brother went even farther in stating his belief about Jesus. That's why I describe his faith as dangerous. He didn't hedge his bets at all. Instead, he put himself in Jesus' face even as his was on the ground. Capability is not the Divine issue. Willingness, desire, availability ... those are the issues.
IF YOU WANT, Lord ... well, what if he doesn't want?! What does that brother do with that reality, that Jesus didn't want to make him clean. For that matter, isn't that the reason why you and I are willing to hedge our bets with Jesus, if we even come limping before him at all? I'll own it. It would be crushing to recognize that with God nothing is impossible, but God just chooses to withold that blessing from me. (There's another side to the risk, too: what if Jesus chooses to fix what's wrong with me, what's wrong in me, but it costs me something? Maybe even alot!)
Yep. This brother lived from a place of courage that I would dare say most of us only get to because of desperation. Joyce Rupp deals with the reality of courage in her book, Fresh Bread, in the February chapter and I highly recommend the comforting challenge she offers. She reminds us that courage doesn't come from knuckling down, holding our breath, or just getting through the difficulty, the challenge, the affront. No, courage comes in leaving space for God to be, move, speak, work in ways that only God can - and will - work. The danger is in trusting that God will work to our benefit. And, that's faith.
Lord Jesus, indeed, with you nothing is impossible. That's what I count on when I'm staring "impossibility" in the face. But, I confess that complete dependence on you is frightening. I hear myself wondering ... what if Jesus doesn't notice or care enough to work in me, for me, on me, through me? What if He's willing to help, but the change and healing I'm desperate for are gonna cost me more than I'm willing to pay? I've got nothing else but my own power. Maybe that's the enemy wanting me to doubt your love for me, your promises to me. At any rate, I'm asking for courageous, dangerous faith like this brother. The kind of faith that will drive me to my face in your presence, confident of your ability and willingness to love me well. Make me faithful to know your promises, your nature, your character, and your presence. Let it be, Lord; let it be.
What dangerous faith! The kind of faith that, I believe, God desires for each of us. I try to imagine myself in my brother's position ... small town life absolutely disrupted for this fellow of faith. Disrupted by disease that defined him as unclean. Once defined as unclean, he was isolated from most life-giving parts of his life (family, friends, work, faith family, ...) for fear that he would contaminate, corrupt, or endanger life for others through those circles.
So, it's not a stretch for any of us to imagine hitting our face and begging. Restore me!! Restore my life!! But, our brother went even farther in stating his belief about Jesus. That's why I describe his faith as dangerous. He didn't hedge his bets at all. Instead, he put himself in Jesus' face even as his was on the ground. Capability is not the Divine issue. Willingness, desire, availability ... those are the issues.
IF YOU WANT, Lord ... well, what if he doesn't want?! What does that brother do with that reality, that Jesus didn't want to make him clean. For that matter, isn't that the reason why you and I are willing to hedge our bets with Jesus, if we even come limping before him at all? I'll own it. It would be crushing to recognize that with God nothing is impossible, but God just chooses to withold that blessing from me. (There's another side to the risk, too: what if Jesus chooses to fix what's wrong with me, what's wrong in me, but it costs me something? Maybe even alot!)
Yep. This brother lived from a place of courage that I would dare say most of us only get to because of desperation. Joyce Rupp deals with the reality of courage in her book, Fresh Bread, in the February chapter and I highly recommend the comforting challenge she offers. She reminds us that courage doesn't come from knuckling down, holding our breath, or just getting through the difficulty, the challenge, the affront. No, courage comes in leaving space for God to be, move, speak, work in ways that only God can - and will - work. The danger is in trusting that God will work to our benefit. And, that's faith.
Lord Jesus, indeed, with you nothing is impossible. That's what I count on when I'm staring "impossibility" in the face. But, I confess that complete dependence on you is frightening. I hear myself wondering ... what if Jesus doesn't notice or care enough to work in me, for me, on me, through me? What if He's willing to help, but the change and healing I'm desperate for are gonna cost me more than I'm willing to pay? I've got nothing else but my own power. Maybe that's the enemy wanting me to doubt your love for me, your promises to me. At any rate, I'm asking for courageous, dangerous faith like this brother. The kind of faith that will drive me to my face in your presence, confident of your ability and willingness to love me well. Make me faithful to know your promises, your nature, your character, and your presence. Let it be, Lord; let it be.
Monday, February 3, 2014
I Spy With My Little Eye ...
"Every eye in the synagogue was fixed on him." Luke 4:20b (CEB)
When I read this closing sentence in v20 in the Common English Bible, I could see myself in the floor-length white seersucker dress with delicate yellow tulips on it that my mom made for me. That's what I wore to what would be my last piano recital at 15. That dress conjured up everything about summer that fashion could and I felt beautiful in it. Problem is, that didn't necessarily translate to my fingers. Looking a little better while sitting on the piano bench doesn't mean you can play the piece any better. I wrestled with that dilemma at every recital. Take my music away from me and, all of a sudden, I didn't feel the music nearly so much as I felt every eye in the place on me. Would I be able to pull it off? Would I crumble under the pressure? Regardless of how I performed, would they like me? That pressure wasn't the only reason I was done with piano lessons after all those years. But, I confess it was good to be rid of that pressure.
I fancy no notion that, in the synagogue that day, Jesus felt like I did while sitting on the recital piano bench. But, I'm pretty certain he FELT every eye in the place on him. When we're in the spotlight, it's natural - I think - to wonder about our performance. Will we be received? Will we be appreciated? Will we choke or excell? I get the sense that Jesus wasn't preoccupied with delivery or performance because he was focused on the importance of the truth he would declare.
Still, the verse reads that every eye was on him. So, what did they expect to witness ... to hear? to see? Were they ready to receive what he offered? Or, would that depend on whether his words were comforting, his presence soothing?
I'll tell you what this verse really leads me to ... because I've been in that moment when I felt every eye on me (whether they were or not), now I'm conscious about what catches my eye. Do I really see or pay attention to the power of the moment? Or do I rush right past the beauty, the brokenness, the opportunity, the hope simply because I am busy with my own stuff?
More specifically, is my eye on Jesus? You can read the rest of the chapter ... they didn't like what they heard and because they were offended by the truth, they decided to be offended by the messenger. Perhaps the Church would be more offended if our eyes were actually on Jesus, searching Him out in every moment, in every place, in every person.
What catches your eye? On who or what do you fix your gaze these days?
When I read this closing sentence in v20 in the Common English Bible, I could see myself in the floor-length white seersucker dress with delicate yellow tulips on it that my mom made for me. That's what I wore to what would be my last piano recital at 15. That dress conjured up everything about summer that fashion could and I felt beautiful in it. Problem is, that didn't necessarily translate to my fingers. Looking a little better while sitting on the piano bench doesn't mean you can play the piece any better. I wrestled with that dilemma at every recital. Take my music away from me and, all of a sudden, I didn't feel the music nearly so much as I felt every eye in the place on me. Would I be able to pull it off? Would I crumble under the pressure? Regardless of how I performed, would they like me? That pressure wasn't the only reason I was done with piano lessons after all those years. But, I confess it was good to be rid of that pressure.
I fancy no notion that, in the synagogue that day, Jesus felt like I did while sitting on the recital piano bench. But, I'm pretty certain he FELT every eye in the place on him. When we're in the spotlight, it's natural - I think - to wonder about our performance. Will we be received? Will we be appreciated? Will we choke or excell? I get the sense that Jesus wasn't preoccupied with delivery or performance because he was focused on the importance of the truth he would declare.
Still, the verse reads that every eye was on him. So, what did they expect to witness ... to hear? to see? Were they ready to receive what he offered? Or, would that depend on whether his words were comforting, his presence soothing?
I'll tell you what this verse really leads me to ... because I've been in that moment when I felt every eye on me (whether they were or not), now I'm conscious about what catches my eye. Do I really see or pay attention to the power of the moment? Or do I rush right past the beauty, the brokenness, the opportunity, the hope simply because I am busy with my own stuff?
More specifically, is my eye on Jesus? You can read the rest of the chapter ... they didn't like what they heard and because they were offended by the truth, they decided to be offended by the messenger. Perhaps the Church would be more offended if our eyes were actually on Jesus, searching Him out in every moment, in every place, in every person.
What catches your eye? On who or what do you fix your gaze these days?
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Knowing My 'Place'
"Produce fruit that shows you have changed your hearts and lives. And don't even think about saying to yourselves, Abraham is our father. I tell you that God is able to raise up Abraham's children from these stones." Luke 3:8 (CEB)
No doubt, John's version of 'show me the money.' John is talking with the crowds ('you children of snakes'), not the Pharisees or scribes or other religious leaders (the snakes). As quickly as he tells them to make their lives match their words, he shreds their primary excuse, the one they use when they just don't get around to doing/being Godly. But, I'm with Abraham; I'm under the promise. John isn't dissing Abraham, just pointing out that it's not who you know but who lives in you that matters. What difference does it make that you're a child of Abraham, or of Lynn and Becky Leatherwood for that matter? What difference does it make whose leadership you sit under or what church you attend? Their faith - whoever 'they' is - is their faith. You only have responsibility and benefit from your own. No way around it.
Which leads me to the most troubling part of this verse. Troubling only because I confess, I'd like to find the shortcut, the easy way around, the formula for success and ease ... but there is none. John makes it clear that the baptism he preached and offered was about desire for a new beginning, a desire to be forgiven and set right (or, righteous) before God. And that desire will be evidenced by the kind of fruit that grows from a changed heart and life. Sounds great, but see, here's the problem ... I don't have it in me (and you don't have it in you) to produce that kind of fruit. I've got the desire down pat. But, the only thing I can do to show that kind of fruit is to let God's Spirit grow it in me.
Why am I powerless to produce that kind of fruit?
I want badly to produce the kind of fruit that pleases God and brings glory to Him ... fruit that's beautiful to look at and delicious (read: nourishing). Can't do it on my own no matter how hard I try. But, God can and will do it in me, for me if I'll let Him.
Creator God, all your works are beautiful, glorious to behold, and beneficial to your people. Make me fruitful, not for my own satisfaction and certainly not for my pride (not for decoration), but that the evidence of the transformation you are working in me will be an encouraging sign to others. May the fruit produced in me be nourishing to us all. Amen.
No doubt, John's version of 'show me the money.' John is talking with the crowds ('you children of snakes'), not the Pharisees or scribes or other religious leaders (the snakes). As quickly as he tells them to make their lives match their words, he shreds their primary excuse, the one they use when they just don't get around to doing/being Godly. But, I'm with Abraham; I'm under the promise. John isn't dissing Abraham, just pointing out that it's not who you know but who lives in you that matters. What difference does it make that you're a child of Abraham, or of Lynn and Becky Leatherwood for that matter? What difference does it make whose leadership you sit under or what church you attend? Their faith - whoever 'they' is - is their faith. You only have responsibility and benefit from your own. No way around it.
Which leads me to the most troubling part of this verse. Troubling only because I confess, I'd like to find the shortcut, the easy way around, the formula for success and ease ... but there is none. John makes it clear that the baptism he preached and offered was about desire for a new beginning, a desire to be forgiven and set right (or, righteous) before God. And that desire will be evidenced by the kind of fruit that grows from a changed heart and life. Sounds great, but see, here's the problem ... I don't have it in me (and you don't have it in you) to produce that kind of fruit. I've got the desire down pat. But, the only thing I can do to show that kind of fruit is to let God's Spirit grow it in me.
Why am I powerless to produce that kind of fruit?
- I want to do Godly stuff, I want to "be" good, but the very things I say I'm not gonna do anymore ... that's the stuff I do and the stuff I intend to do, the stuff I WANT to do, I don't. (the Sandra translation of Romans 7:14-15)
- The natural consequences (read: fruit) of living as a human being are ugly because on my own I'm selfish. (Galatians 5:16) But, the 'fruit' of the Spirit (read: Spirit living in me and producing in me) is beautiful: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (Galatians 5:22-23)
I want badly to produce the kind of fruit that pleases God and brings glory to Him ... fruit that's beautiful to look at and delicious (read: nourishing). Can't do it on my own no matter how hard I try. But, God can and will do it in me, for me if I'll let Him.
Creator God, all your works are beautiful, glorious to behold, and beneficial to your people. Make me fruitful, not for my own satisfaction and certainly not for my pride (not for decoration), but that the evidence of the transformation you are working in me will be an encouraging sign to others. May the fruit produced in me be nourishing to us all. Amen.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Listening, Loving, and Learning
"After three days they found him in the temple. He was sitting among the teachers, listening to them and putting questions to them." Luke 2:46 (CEB)
He was 12. And Mary and Joseph were desperate to find their son. Relieved to see him safe but surprised to see him like this. They assumed him to be among the community/family traveling to and from Jerusalem for Passover; they find him instead smack dab in the middle of a surprising community. Surprising because he's 12 ... and they were not. This is the only experience we have a glimpse of from Jesus' adolescence and, in my opinion, it is our first "sighting" of that glorious authority that disrupts, changes, heals, and brings life.
This is what I see as I look on that surprising expression of community. I notice that Jesus was not teaching, at least not in the ways that cause our suspicion; he wasn't lecturing, lining people out, or preaching at folks. He was listening, asking questions, and, no doubt, watching. At 12 years of age, the Son of God was engaging those with more education, more experience in the 'church,' more experience in the role of teacher, and more respect from those around the circle, so to speak. I have no difficulty in assuming that Jesus was engaged in the community and absorbed in the exchange; he'd been present with them for 3 days! Why stick it out if you're not engaged?!
The more amazing picture my imagination paints is this one: an almost-grown Jesus listening, learning, and teaching in his own way over-against a picture of a 30-something Jesus challenging the Teachers, in general, because of their misunderstanding and misappropriation of the truth. It may look as if Jesus' authority was exercised only in that second picture, but I believe there was - and is - a beautiful reality of power and authority in that quiet exchange that was rooted in listening and asking questions.
Makes me consider my own experiences of community and how I participate in those communities. How much listening and watching and asking questions do I do in order to learn more or to invite others to find their rightful place in the community? Or, am I more concerned with getting my point across, defending my position, presenting a winning argument? Am I attentive to recognize and receive the Truth no matter who speaks it? Or, can I recognize that being in the room is not the same as being in the community gathered in the room?
Jesus, My Lord, I am very aware that your example of being in relationship with others, especially being in community with others, is often different than my own. I long to be more comfortable with asking questions, truly listening, and trusting what I observe around me instead of holding my breath until my contribution is welcomed and received. I commit myself to be concerned first with welcoming and receiving you as you present yourself through others and the gift of community. Let it be so.
He was 12. And Mary and Joseph were desperate to find their son. Relieved to see him safe but surprised to see him like this. They assumed him to be among the community/family traveling to and from Jerusalem for Passover; they find him instead smack dab in the middle of a surprising community. Surprising because he's 12 ... and they were not. This is the only experience we have a glimpse of from Jesus' adolescence and, in my opinion, it is our first "sighting" of that glorious authority that disrupts, changes, heals, and brings life.
This is what I see as I look on that surprising expression of community. I notice that Jesus was not teaching, at least not in the ways that cause our suspicion; he wasn't lecturing, lining people out, or preaching at folks. He was listening, asking questions, and, no doubt, watching. At 12 years of age, the Son of God was engaging those with more education, more experience in the 'church,' more experience in the role of teacher, and more respect from those around the circle, so to speak. I have no difficulty in assuming that Jesus was engaged in the community and absorbed in the exchange; he'd been present with them for 3 days! Why stick it out if you're not engaged?!
The more amazing picture my imagination paints is this one: an almost-grown Jesus listening, learning, and teaching in his own way over-against a picture of a 30-something Jesus challenging the Teachers, in general, because of their misunderstanding and misappropriation of the truth. It may look as if Jesus' authority was exercised only in that second picture, but I believe there was - and is - a beautiful reality of power and authority in that quiet exchange that was rooted in listening and asking questions.
Makes me consider my own experiences of community and how I participate in those communities. How much listening and watching and asking questions do I do in order to learn more or to invite others to find their rightful place in the community? Or, am I more concerned with getting my point across, defending my position, presenting a winning argument? Am I attentive to recognize and receive the Truth no matter who speaks it? Or, can I recognize that being in the room is not the same as being in the community gathered in the room?
Jesus, My Lord, I am very aware that your example of being in relationship with others, especially being in community with others, is often different than my own. I long to be more comfortable with asking questions, truly listening, and trusting what I observe around me instead of holding my breath until my contribution is welcomed and received. I commit myself to be concerned first with welcoming and receiving you as you present yourself through others and the gift of community. Let it be so.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
How long, God?
Bishop Bill McAlilly has challenged those of us in the Nashville Area of the United Methodist Church to give ourselves to the daily reading of Scripture as a united body. Bishop Ken Carter, resident Bishop of the Florida Conference, has suggested reading Luke and Acts, tackling one chapter each week of the year. I've taken on that challenge and encourage you to join me. What's more, I'm taking on the frightening task - one I choose for myself - of sharing my thoughts in this form. I hope that you will not only join us in engaging the scriptures through Luke's window, but that you will share - here or otherwise - your own discoveries. Starting a week behind, here goes ...
"[Anna] was now an 84-year-old widow. She never left the temple area but worshipped God with fasting and prayer night and day. She approached at that very moment and began to praise God and to speak about Jesus to everyone who was looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem." Luke 2:37-38 (CEB)
Except for seven years of her "adult" life, Anna had been right there. In that sanctuary. Constantly before God, offering her worship, intervening for God's people, and listening. Waiting. I often get frustrated in a matter of minutes when things don't happen the way I expect, want, or hope. But, 60-70 years?! Now, that's an example of faith and servanthood we would all do well to follow.
In the face of Anna's faithful commitment, I find myself staring at two questions. First, for what of God's promised revelation am I waiting? I am waiting for God to fix this world ... who am I kidding, I'm waiting for God to fix the Church! But, focusing on (read: obsessing over, wringing hands about) what's wrong is not the Anna way. No, I think Anna would be watching the horizon and the far corners of that familiar sanctuary for God to show up. Because that's what God promised to do.
Leaves me with that second question. How will I wait for God's promises to be realized? Anna waited with patience and confident hope. She could wait unwaveringly because she stayed in constant contact with God. C'mon, really... How long do you wait before you begin to wonder if you got it wrong, that God didn't mean it, or before you try to hurry the revelation along?
These days can be challenging enough, O God, but I often make it more difficult still by the way I wait on you. Forgive me for those times I second-guess your attention, your timing, even your intention. Teach me trust you the way Anna did and be content to simply give myself over you in every moment, waiting on you with unwaivering trust and hope. I want to know the same glorious celebration you allowed Anna to know, even after all those years! Let it be,God. Amen.
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