22 Then Jesus went through the towns and villages, teaching as he made his way to Jerusalem.23 Someone asked him, "Lord, are only a few people going to be saved?" He said to them, 24"Make every effort to enter through the narrow door, because many, I tell you, will try to enter and will not be able to.(Luke 13:22-24)
My first attempt at college was an epic fail. (My mom hates it when I bring this up, but she isn't on the internet so, shhh...) I was 18, right out of high school, and consumed with the idea of starting a rock and roll band. Lacking maturity and any sign of self-discipline and living in a house with three other guys who also wanted to start a band, it was a recipe for disaster. I enrolled, paid my fees (well, may dad and Dolly Parton paid them--she funded a scholarship that I won), registered for my classes, and bought books. Everything was ready except me. Showing up for class was scary due to my insecurity in groups of unfamiliar people and staying there was tedious due to my very narrow attention span. College was turbulent, uncharted water--partying and making music with my close friends was my wheelhouse The result of my less-than-committed academic enterprise was a string of "Incompletes" that magically and tragically turned to Fs at the end of the term. I was jettisoned from campus at the end of the year for "failure to care." Simply being enrolled in school on your own terms with a low commitment to learning, and, applying yourself so that the experience can change you are two very different things.
This is one of those passages that is often interpreted through a narrow eschatological lens. (Sorry for the seminary word. Eschatological basically means related to end times or, if you will, heaven and hell issues for 21st century Christians.) As important as heaven and hell issues are, that will be then, and this is now. I don't believe Jesus came just to get us prepared for life after death, as important as that is. Jesus came to inaugurate the coming kingdom and get the ball rolling so that glimpses of the kingdom would start immediately appearing. His Sermon on the Mount not only delineated kingdom parameters, but actually began the transformational processes that those parameters are to create in the lives of Jesus' followers and, thus, in the lives of everyone within their circle of influence. That is, If we love our enemies, as Jesus commands, then our enemies will be changed and the people who observe will be changed.
A we try to makes sense of the troublesome passage it helps to remember that it comes on the heels of a confrontation with the religious elite who didn't like Jesus' new interpretations of the law. There were also many followers who were only in it for the miracles and others who were following from a distance, unwilling to get close enough to be changed (John 6:26, Luke 14:25-27). Undoubtedly, a lot of people had heard of Jesus as his reputation began spreading around Palestine. But, hearing about Jesus and even considering his teaching is not the same as committing to a transforming, kingdom-building journey. Jesus is using a little tough love to get the religious professionals to consider the people being hurt by their interpretations of the law and to help waffling followers come to grips with their indecisiveness and move closer. In the story of Jesus' exorcism of a demon from man we learn that even the demons knew who Jesus was, but they certainly had no intention of following him.
Today, we still have religious professionals who like to bind up people with the law. Also, their are lots of people know about Jesus and maybe have heard snippets about his life, and his death on a cross. Many people like his teachings and follow certain ones that seem appropriate and helpful. And to be sure, an effort to emulate Jesus by practicing his teachings will likely point us in a better life direction and have some sculpting effecting on who we are. But, Jesus doesn't want to just reshape our lives like an exercise regimen can reshape our bodies. Jesus wants to give us a heart transplant so that we can be kingdom-fit from the inside-out and able to live out the most difficult of his teachings allowing our lives to become transforming kingdom outposts. When we "enter through the narrow door" we open ourselves up to the great wide open of Jesus' salvation. We learn how big a word "saved" is and how it impacts us in so many wonderful ways on this side of the Jordan River and not simply (and mercifully) carrying us safely to the other side when our transplanted hearts stop beating.
Hear that? It's the bell. School's in session and Jesus is the teacher. The good news is that he is very patient, tells great stories, always brings snacks to share, and doesn't give grades. Participation is all that's required. Now, let's take a detour through that narrow door right there.
Blessings,
Larry
Monday, March 18, 2013
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Does Our Faith Cut the Mustard?
18 Then Jesus asked, "What is the kingdom of God like? What shall I compare it to? 19 It is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his garden. It grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air perched in its branches." (Luke 13:18-19 NIV)
I'm a lover, not a fighter, not that I need to tell anyone who knows me. I've never liked conflict, physical or verbal. I'm not strong enough for the former or thick-skinned enough for the later. I'm a Rodney King kind of guy. (Google his famous quote if you don't remember) That's what makes my fascination with karate such a disconnect. Years ago I read an article in Boy's Life about Ti Kwan Do and thought it would be so cool to know how to break boards and intimidate friends and, especially, enemies. I heard about a karate school Knoxville run by legendary Issihnryu practitioner Harold Long and begged my mom to take me there. With enough pestering and firmly against her better judgement she took me by his studio one evening to inquire about lessons. I think I was about 12 and probably weighed 80 pounds soaking wet. Mr. Long was gracious but told me to come back when I was 16 and eat a bag of Krystals on the way home.
Fast-forward 20 years or so. I worked at radio station U-102 with Mike Clark who happened to be a 3rd degree black belt in Isshinryu Karate. After some conversations he agreed to give me lessons after work behind the studios which were in Sevierville in the early days. It was a routine that always got a rise out of horn-honking motorists passing by who likely assumed a couple of DJs had "taken it outside." Later, Mike rented a space downtown and took on a number of students. Sometime after I had graduated to brown belt a new student came in who was a brown belt as well. By this time I was six-feet tall, weighed 160 pounds and was working out regularly. The new guy was maybe five-feet-five and 140 pounds and when he invited me to match (fight) I quickly agreed. (After losing so consistently to Mike and a couple of others more experienced than I was, I could smell victory due to my reach and height advantage.) Ten seconds into the match I couldn't smell anything after he broke my nose with a straight right I never saw coming. He was so small that I underestimated his effectiveness. My nose still goes in two different directions.
Followers of Jesus easily fall into the same trap of underestimating their own effectiveness because of the perceived size of their faith. We hear great preachers and teachers, read about committed missionaries who defy all odds to share Jesus' love in so many ways, and inevitably start comparing our own faith to that of the spiritual giants (or so we crown them). Jesus is trying to keep us out of that trap with his parable of the mustard seed which actually has a couple of layers of meaning. Mustard seeds are tiny--it takes about 750 to 800 to make up a gram--yet one seed can produce a bush eight or nine feet tall (New Interpreters Bible IX: Luke, R. Alan Culpepper). Jesus points out that the seed produces a tree that welcomes birds, perhaps a nod toward the welcoming DNA woven into the coming kingdom he is announcing. Later in Luke Jesus will use the mustard seed as a measuring stick for faith saying that faith even as small as a mustard see can accomplish great things in his kingdom.
There is an old saying that proclaims "It's not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog." As clumsy as the comparison may be, the idea of the inner motivation and commitment being more important than the outer size and strength may help us. **Our faith and its ability to create change, in us or the world around us, is not based upon our spiritual development, it's about the extent to which we are willing to yield to Jesus living within us. The coming kingdom is about his power and values being lived out in real time by real people. As we continue our journey toward Jerusalem with Jesus, let's not miss a kingdom-building detour because we're not sure our faith is big enough. True enough, it takes at least a little faith to walk this journey, but because we walk with Jesus, whatever the size of our faith will be just enough.
**In the kingdom faith that changes us will almost always change the world around us.
Blessings,
Larry
I'm a lover, not a fighter, not that I need to tell anyone who knows me. I've never liked conflict, physical or verbal. I'm not strong enough for the former or thick-skinned enough for the later. I'm a Rodney King kind of guy. (Google his famous quote if you don't remember) That's what makes my fascination with karate such a disconnect. Years ago I read an article in Boy's Life about Ti Kwan Do and thought it would be so cool to know how to break boards and intimidate friends and, especially, enemies. I heard about a karate school Knoxville run by legendary Issihnryu practitioner Harold Long and begged my mom to take me there. With enough pestering and firmly against her better judgement she took me by his studio one evening to inquire about lessons. I think I was about 12 and probably weighed 80 pounds soaking wet. Mr. Long was gracious but told me to come back when I was 16 and eat a bag of Krystals on the way home.
Fast-forward 20 years or so. I worked at radio station U-102 with Mike Clark who happened to be a 3rd degree black belt in Isshinryu Karate. After some conversations he agreed to give me lessons after work behind the studios which were in Sevierville in the early days. It was a routine that always got a rise out of horn-honking motorists passing by who likely assumed a couple of DJs had "taken it outside." Later, Mike rented a space downtown and took on a number of students. Sometime after I had graduated to brown belt a new student came in who was a brown belt as well. By this time I was six-feet tall, weighed 160 pounds and was working out regularly. The new guy was maybe five-feet-five and 140 pounds and when he invited me to match (fight) I quickly agreed. (After losing so consistently to Mike and a couple of others more experienced than I was, I could smell victory due to my reach and height advantage.) Ten seconds into the match I couldn't smell anything after he broke my nose with a straight right I never saw coming. He was so small that I underestimated his effectiveness. My nose still goes in two different directions.
Followers of Jesus easily fall into the same trap of underestimating their own effectiveness because of the perceived size of their faith. We hear great preachers and teachers, read about committed missionaries who defy all odds to share Jesus' love in so many ways, and inevitably start comparing our own faith to that of the spiritual giants (or so we crown them). Jesus is trying to keep us out of that trap with his parable of the mustard seed which actually has a couple of layers of meaning. Mustard seeds are tiny--it takes about 750 to 800 to make up a gram--yet one seed can produce a bush eight or nine feet tall (New Interpreters Bible IX: Luke, R. Alan Culpepper). Jesus points out that the seed produces a tree that welcomes birds, perhaps a nod toward the welcoming DNA woven into the coming kingdom he is announcing. Later in Luke Jesus will use the mustard seed as a measuring stick for faith saying that faith even as small as a mustard see can accomplish great things in his kingdom.
There is an old saying that proclaims "It's not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog." As clumsy as the comparison may be, the idea of the inner motivation and commitment being more important than the outer size and strength may help us. **Our faith and its ability to create change, in us or the world around us, is not based upon our spiritual development, it's about the extent to which we are willing to yield to Jesus living within us. The coming kingdom is about his power and values being lived out in real time by real people. As we continue our journey toward Jerusalem with Jesus, let's not miss a kingdom-building detour because we're not sure our faith is big enough. True enough, it takes at least a little faith to walk this journey, but because we walk with Jesus, whatever the size of our faith will be just enough.
**In the kingdom faith that changes us will almost always change the world around us.
Blessings,
Larry
Monday, March 11, 2013
Straighten Up and Fly Right!
10 On a Sabbath Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues, 11 and a woman was there who had been crippled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not straighten up at all. 12 When Jesus saw her, he called her forward and said to her, "Woman, you are set free from your infirmity." 13 Then he put his hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and praised God. (Luke 13:10-13 NIV)
In an earlier devotional post I mentioned that I grew up in a Methodist church, First Methodist church in our small town. I think I also mentioned that my father was the choir director, which could be a good thing and a bad thing. It was advantageous when the choir held holiday parties and other social gatherings. There were some phenomenal cooks (and singers) in the choir and they all brought their "A" dishes to these gatherings. As one of the choir director's sons I was always invited and often had the first shot at the buffet.
There was also a down side to my dad's, literally, elevated position. From the choir loft he had a birds eye view of the congregation, including my brother and me who, often, found ourselves disengaging from the minister's sermon. (see "Sparks Are Gonna Fly") On one particular Sunday, for whatever reason, maybe possession by a spirit, but probably driven by pure boredom at what was happening above the pews, my brother and I decided to go underground. We slipped off the pew when our aunt, with whom we sat because mom was in the choir loft with dad, wasn't looking, Crawling on all fours like a couple of mischievous puppies we started weaving our way among the jungle of legs, feet, purses, coats, and other hazards.
We actually cleared about five pews before the laughter among the mostly amused congregants rose to the level that my dad heard it in the choir loft. Ultimately, we ran into the wrong pair of feet belonging to one of the elder members, the head usher to be exact, who never knew the joy of having sweet little boys and never, thus, learned the difference between innocent mischief and wanton mayhem. He pulled us up out off the floor by our pants to the utter horror of our father who was already descending the choir loft.
I will spare the ugly details of what happened next but suffice it to say the first 30 seconds of correction didn't involve words. When my father finally did speak I'll never forget what he said. (turns out it wasn't the last time he said it, either) He held my trembling shoulders tightly, looked right into my eyes, and said, "Now I want you to straighten up and fly right!" There was no need for explanation or interpretation. His point was simply that he wanted me walk a path that led to higher ground and just because I was a little boy didn't mean i couldn't live into a better version of myself.
Without trivializing whatever might have been wrong with the woman in the synagogue we all can become crippled by a spirit that doesn't have our best interest at heart. In the passage the crippling effect of the spirit is usually interpreted as a physical disability. I once saw a very dramatic sermon preached on this passage where the preacher began stooped over to the degree that her head almost touched the platform. But as she moved to the part of the sermon where Jesus heals the woman she started to straighten up. At the end of the sermon she was jumping up and down and leaping across the platform. I can still feel the exhilaration of the Holy Spirit as her sermon sank deeply into my heart and the spirits that crippled my soul fled for higher ground.
What cripples you? What are the spirits that cause you to droop and stoop and sometimes crawl through the day on emotional hands and knees? Remember God's word through the prophet Isaiah to the stooping Israelites that now comes to you and me through Jesus, "...but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength.They will soar on wings like eagles..." (Isaiah 40:31 NIV) Jesus completed his journey to Jerusalem to defeat the spirits that beat us down. Though seemingly grounded on the cross, Jesus soared to new heights on the third day and lifted up all who will grasp his reaching hand.
As we continue our journey with Jesus, why not look for a path that leads to higher ground and a better version of ourselves. Let there be no more stooping and drooping! To paraphrase Isaiah, "Straighten up and fly right!"
Blessings,
Larry
In an earlier devotional post I mentioned that I grew up in a Methodist church, First Methodist church in our small town. I think I also mentioned that my father was the choir director, which could be a good thing and a bad thing. It was advantageous when the choir held holiday parties and other social gatherings. There were some phenomenal cooks (and singers) in the choir and they all brought their "A" dishes to these gatherings. As one of the choir director's sons I was always invited and often had the first shot at the buffet.
There was also a down side to my dad's, literally, elevated position. From the choir loft he had a birds eye view of the congregation, including my brother and me who, often, found ourselves disengaging from the minister's sermon. (see "Sparks Are Gonna Fly") On one particular Sunday, for whatever reason, maybe possession by a spirit, but probably driven by pure boredom at what was happening above the pews, my brother and I decided to go underground. We slipped off the pew when our aunt, with whom we sat because mom was in the choir loft with dad, wasn't looking, Crawling on all fours like a couple of mischievous puppies we started weaving our way among the jungle of legs, feet, purses, coats, and other hazards.
We actually cleared about five pews before the laughter among the mostly amused congregants rose to the level that my dad heard it in the choir loft. Ultimately, we ran into the wrong pair of feet belonging to one of the elder members, the head usher to be exact, who never knew the joy of having sweet little boys and never, thus, learned the difference between innocent mischief and wanton mayhem. He pulled us up out off the floor by our pants to the utter horror of our father who was already descending the choir loft.
I will spare the ugly details of what happened next but suffice it to say the first 30 seconds of correction didn't involve words. When my father finally did speak I'll never forget what he said. (turns out it wasn't the last time he said it, either) He held my trembling shoulders tightly, looked right into my eyes, and said, "Now I want you to straighten up and fly right!" There was no need for explanation or interpretation. His point was simply that he wanted me walk a path that led to higher ground and just because I was a little boy didn't mean i couldn't live into a better version of myself.
Without trivializing whatever might have been wrong with the woman in the synagogue we all can become crippled by a spirit that doesn't have our best interest at heart. In the passage the crippling effect of the spirit is usually interpreted as a physical disability. I once saw a very dramatic sermon preached on this passage where the preacher began stooped over to the degree that her head almost touched the platform. But as she moved to the part of the sermon where Jesus heals the woman she started to straighten up. At the end of the sermon she was jumping up and down and leaping across the platform. I can still feel the exhilaration of the Holy Spirit as her sermon sank deeply into my heart and the spirits that crippled my soul fled for higher ground.
What cripples you? What are the spirits that cause you to droop and stoop and sometimes crawl through the day on emotional hands and knees? Remember God's word through the prophet Isaiah to the stooping Israelites that now comes to you and me through Jesus, "...but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength.They will soar on wings like eagles..." (Isaiah 40:31 NIV) Jesus completed his journey to Jerusalem to defeat the spirits that beat us down. Though seemingly grounded on the cross, Jesus soared to new heights on the third day and lifted up all who will grasp his reaching hand.
As we continue our journey with Jesus, why not look for a path that leads to higher ground and a better version of ourselves. Let there be no more stooping and drooping! To paraphrase Isaiah, "Straighten up and fly right!"
Blessings,
Larry
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Jesus' Edgy Peace
51 Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division. (Luke 12:51 NIV)
When our younger daughter Christie was 10 she went to one of many sleepovers with her friends. (Perhaps one of the most fraudulently named events of childhood. The only sleep that occurs is the better part of the next day when they get home.) It is my understanding that these first forays into allnighters usually involved eight or ten 10-year-old girls, copious amounts of high-calorie snacks and highly-caffeinated beverages, plenty of makeup for makeovers, stacks of scratched and chipped CDs by the Backstreet Boys, NSYNC, the Spice Girls, and Hanson if any hipsters were invited. (Christie loved Hanson...the little hipster) All of these ingredients created a volatile environment for sure, but it was merely a precursor to the main event, the movies.
Every girl brought at least one of her favorite movies and delicate negotiations ensued to determine which movies made the cut and the order in which they would be watched. It was at this point that Christie was the catalyst for conflict. Generally speaking the unwritten rule in that era and in Christie's circle of friends was that movies would be G or PG. However, one girl had brought a particularly racy PG-13 title that the girls were going to watch "later." It happened to be a movie that Lynn and I and specifically said we didn't want her to see. So, as the night progressed and the time came to taste the forbidden fruit, Christie informed the girls that she was not allowed to watch hat movie. A couple of other girls agreed with Christie; others argued their point. To all the girls' credit they didn't gang up on Christie or kick her to the curb for throwing a wrench in the VCR. There was a risky appeal to the mom-in-residence--that's how we found out about it--but she supported Christie's protest and the movie went back in the girl's backpack. There was a little grumbling from the group and maybe a couple of eye rolls aimed at Christie, but they all survived the night.
Christie did not attend the sleepover for the purpose of causing a scene. Her plans did not include creating a division in the group. The division simply arose from Christie clinging to what she thought, in her precious heart-of-hearts, was the right thing.
Christie's opinion about the movie was based on her parent's opinion which was highly subjective. As we make the move from Christie and her pre-adolescent sleepover to to Jesus and his pre-second coming do-over we also make the move from subjective opinion to objective Truth. Jesus didn't come to the earth he created with another opinion about the right way to live to be tossed into the hopper for consideration. Jesus knew every nook and cranny of the planet and every crease and crevasse of the hearts of the people who inhabited it. Subjective opinions can be parsed and applied to a group like sharing M&Ms by colors. The objective Truth, however, will slice through a group of opinionated people like a warm knife slicing through an ice cream cake at a sleepover. But truth's intrinsic purpose is not to divide. Truth's purpose is to stand fast and let those who hear it and see it make a choice.
Luke refers to Jesus as God's peace seven times and yet, here, Jesus says he did not come to bring peace. While that seems patently contradictory, it really isn't. Jesus came to reveal the truth of God's love for all humankind. It was a love that would bring peace to human hearts that were waging a war against themselves from within. Unfortunately, the internal struggle often spills out into external relationships creating bitter dissension, harmful apathy, and cruel hate. The extent to which his peace would surface in the form of reconciliation among people would depend upon the choice people make about receiving his truth and letting it do its thing. Paradoxically, the division Jesus' truth creates internally can heal the divisions in our lives externally if we're willing to let his healing fire warm our hearts. Of course, it can also be a wedge to those who, thank you very much, prefer the fire down below. (For those who don't speak Classic Rock, that's a reference to a Bob Seger song, not hell, lest we get distracted and miss the point. We'll save hell for another day.)
Maybe this detour on our journey toward the cross should be a pause for a long look inside and an honest evaluation of our hearts. Is sin fanning the flames of war creating casualties among the people around us? Jesus wants to create a division between the dangerous subjective truths we learn from the world or create for ourselves and his redemptive objective Truth that has always been and will always be. When we lean toward the Truth of God's love in Jesus Christ it may create some division initially among those who prefer the old paradigm of calling our own shots--even when those shots hit people we love. But, eventually the division can bring wholeness that will draw people together, which was Jesus' purpose all along.
Blessings,
Larry
When our younger daughter Christie was 10 she went to one of many sleepovers with her friends. (Perhaps one of the most fraudulently named events of childhood. The only sleep that occurs is the better part of the next day when they get home.) It is my understanding that these first forays into allnighters usually involved eight or ten 10-year-old girls, copious amounts of high-calorie snacks and highly-caffeinated beverages, plenty of makeup for makeovers, stacks of scratched and chipped CDs by the Backstreet Boys, NSYNC, the Spice Girls, and Hanson if any hipsters were invited. (Christie loved Hanson...the little hipster) All of these ingredients created a volatile environment for sure, but it was merely a precursor to the main event, the movies.
Every girl brought at least one of her favorite movies and delicate negotiations ensued to determine which movies made the cut and the order in which they would be watched. It was at this point that Christie was the catalyst for conflict. Generally speaking the unwritten rule in that era and in Christie's circle of friends was that movies would be G or PG. However, one girl had brought a particularly racy PG-13 title that the girls were going to watch "later." It happened to be a movie that Lynn and I and specifically said we didn't want her to see. So, as the night progressed and the time came to taste the forbidden fruit, Christie informed the girls that she was not allowed to watch hat movie. A couple of other girls agreed with Christie; others argued their point. To all the girls' credit they didn't gang up on Christie or kick her to the curb for throwing a wrench in the VCR. There was a risky appeal to the mom-in-residence--that's how we found out about it--but she supported Christie's protest and the movie went back in the girl's backpack. There was a little grumbling from the group and maybe a couple of eye rolls aimed at Christie, but they all survived the night.
Christie did not attend the sleepover for the purpose of causing a scene. Her plans did not include creating a division in the group. The division simply arose from Christie clinging to what she thought, in her precious heart-of-hearts, was the right thing.
Christie's opinion about the movie was based on her parent's opinion which was highly subjective. As we make the move from Christie and her pre-adolescent sleepover to to Jesus and his pre-second coming do-over we also make the move from subjective opinion to objective Truth. Jesus didn't come to the earth he created with another opinion about the right way to live to be tossed into the hopper for consideration. Jesus knew every nook and cranny of the planet and every crease and crevasse of the hearts of the people who inhabited it. Subjective opinions can be parsed and applied to a group like sharing M&Ms by colors. The objective Truth, however, will slice through a group of opinionated people like a warm knife slicing through an ice cream cake at a sleepover. But truth's intrinsic purpose is not to divide. Truth's purpose is to stand fast and let those who hear it and see it make a choice.
Luke refers to Jesus as God's peace seven times and yet, here, Jesus says he did not come to bring peace. While that seems patently contradictory, it really isn't. Jesus came to reveal the truth of God's love for all humankind. It was a love that would bring peace to human hearts that were waging a war against themselves from within. Unfortunately, the internal struggle often spills out into external relationships creating bitter dissension, harmful apathy, and cruel hate. The extent to which his peace would surface in the form of reconciliation among people would depend upon the choice people make about receiving his truth and letting it do its thing. Paradoxically, the division Jesus' truth creates internally can heal the divisions in our lives externally if we're willing to let his healing fire warm our hearts. Of course, it can also be a wedge to those who, thank you very much, prefer the fire down below. (For those who don't speak Classic Rock, that's a reference to a Bob Seger song, not hell, lest we get distracted and miss the point. We'll save hell for another day.)
Maybe this detour on our journey toward the cross should be a pause for a long look inside and an honest evaluation of our hearts. Is sin fanning the flames of war creating casualties among the people around us? Jesus wants to create a division between the dangerous subjective truths we learn from the world or create for ourselves and his redemptive objective Truth that has always been and will always be. When we lean toward the Truth of God's love in Jesus Christ it may create some division initially among those who prefer the old paradigm of calling our own shots--even when those shots hit people we love. But, eventually the division can bring wholeness that will draw people together, which was Jesus' purpose all along.
Blessings,
Larry
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Sparks Are Gonna Fly
49 "I have come to bring fire on the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! (Luke 12:49 NIV)
I grew up in a very traditional, small-town Methodist church. There was beautiful stained glass, a majestic pipe organ, and a robed choir directed by my father. The music was a blend of high-church anthems from classical literature and spirited hymns from the little brown Cokesbury hymnals. We were quintessential mainstream Protestantism and worship was, well, very predictable, appropriate, and tame.
A block away from my house was a church that offered a completely different world. It was a small, Pentecostal congregation that met Sunday morning and evening and Wednesday night. Like most churches in the 1960s there was no air conditioning, so on hot summer Wednesday nights they opened the windows which allowed my friends and me a chance to catch a glimpse of a very different way of going to church. Though we couldn't see in the windows--they were too high off the ground--we could hear the singing and shouting that carried around the block on the moist, summer breeze. I distinctly remember hearing drums and guitars and people singing like their lives depended on it.
Then, when I was somewhere around 11 or 12, I got to see for myself. A couple of my friends from the neighborhood who went to that church invited me and a couple of other boys to attend a service just for young people. It was a hot summer night, but my mom insisted I wear a shirt with a tie because that's they way you dress when you go to church. (I think the same idea is behind always wearing new underwear with no holes when you travel--you know, in case you're in an accident) I remember walking in wide-eyed and tingling with expectation, if also a little embarrassed because I was the only person there wearing a tie. There was no stained glass, but, sure enough, there was a small set of drums on the platform right next to an amplifier with two guitars propped up against it. There were tambourines scattered on top of a small, electronic organ that didn't have a back so the tubes and wires were visible to the congregation.
The service started as most services start with a welcome and a prayer and an invitation for all the guests to stand up and be recognized. Then the song leader started a hymn a capella and the band found the key and took flight. One of the guitars was a bass and I remember feeling the sound thump my chest as we sang. It made we want to know the songs better so I could sing louder. In fact, I had never heard music like that in church. The singing from the congregation quickly overpowered the little PA system. The organ sounded wonderfully distorted as it tried to keep up with the climbing decibel level, the tubes glowing bright orange inside. It all blended into an edgy, cacophonous roar that made my heart race.
After 30 minutes or so of singing the band stopped and the minister took the platform to pray accompanied by the prayers of the congregation creating a different kind of roar that was mysterious and very rich. Suddenly, the minister began to preach, and I say suddenly because he, at once, stomped back from the pulpit and shouted that his "Helper" had arrived. The next hour was confusing, frightening, exhilarating, and totally fascinating. I have no real recollection of what was said, but I vividly remember how it was said and the transforming effect it had on the congregation. My fixation on the preacher and his passionate shouts and wails was only broken by my friends' mom who had been sitting with us but was now crawling on her hands and knees to the altar crying and shouting her son's names.
Please don't read this as a cynical attempt at humor or a derisive analysis of a different manner of worship. There was never even a momentary impulse to elbow my fellow visitors and snicker. I was all-in, emotionally and spiritually, and left there transformed at some level I still can't deny or explain. But I am convinced of this much. The fire that Jesus said he had come to ignite swept through that little church and warmed every soul in the place. The fire Jesus is anxious to light is the same fire John the Baptist spoke of in Luke 3:16. John, and every other preacher who came after him including this one, applied the water of baptism which is a sign of what Jesus came to do: to ignite the world with the fire of baptism which is nothing less than the transforming power and presence of Almighty God through the person of his Holy Spirit. It was this same Spirit who blazed through that little church in my neighborhood and longs to blaze through every church that features a cross on its steeple.
Of course, we don't have to shout and dance in worship to give evidence of the Holy Spirit's presence. Seems like there is a story about a "still, small voice" that transforms with whispers. But the lasting impression from that Pentecostal service years ago is that the people in that church checked their inhibitions, their inappropriate sense of propriety, and their preconceived limitations of what God might do at the door. If a fire were going to break out, they were committed to be kindling, not water. As we continue our journey toward the cross and the baptism of sacrifice Jesus had reserved for only him, could we commit to checking our preconceived notions of what God can and can't or will and won't do at the door and just be kindling in a world that needs transforming fire?
Blessings,
Larry
I grew up in a very traditional, small-town Methodist church. There was beautiful stained glass, a majestic pipe organ, and a robed choir directed by my father. The music was a blend of high-church anthems from classical literature and spirited hymns from the little brown Cokesbury hymnals. We were quintessential mainstream Protestantism and worship was, well, very predictable, appropriate, and tame.
A block away from my house was a church that offered a completely different world. It was a small, Pentecostal congregation that met Sunday morning and evening and Wednesday night. Like most churches in the 1960s there was no air conditioning, so on hot summer Wednesday nights they opened the windows which allowed my friends and me a chance to catch a glimpse of a very different way of going to church. Though we couldn't see in the windows--they were too high off the ground--we could hear the singing and shouting that carried around the block on the moist, summer breeze. I distinctly remember hearing drums and guitars and people singing like their lives depended on it.
Then, when I was somewhere around 11 or 12, I got to see for myself. A couple of my friends from the neighborhood who went to that church invited me and a couple of other boys to attend a service just for young people. It was a hot summer night, but my mom insisted I wear a shirt with a tie because that's they way you dress when you go to church. (I think the same idea is behind always wearing new underwear with no holes when you travel--you know, in case you're in an accident) I remember walking in wide-eyed and tingling with expectation, if also a little embarrassed because I was the only person there wearing a tie. There was no stained glass, but, sure enough, there was a small set of drums on the platform right next to an amplifier with two guitars propped up against it. There were tambourines scattered on top of a small, electronic organ that didn't have a back so the tubes and wires were visible to the congregation.
The service started as most services start with a welcome and a prayer and an invitation for all the guests to stand up and be recognized. Then the song leader started a hymn a capella and the band found the key and took flight. One of the guitars was a bass and I remember feeling the sound thump my chest as we sang. It made we want to know the songs better so I could sing louder. In fact, I had never heard music like that in church. The singing from the congregation quickly overpowered the little PA system. The organ sounded wonderfully distorted as it tried to keep up with the climbing decibel level, the tubes glowing bright orange inside. It all blended into an edgy, cacophonous roar that made my heart race.
After 30 minutes or so of singing the band stopped and the minister took the platform to pray accompanied by the prayers of the congregation creating a different kind of roar that was mysterious and very rich. Suddenly, the minister began to preach, and I say suddenly because he, at once, stomped back from the pulpit and shouted that his "Helper" had arrived. The next hour was confusing, frightening, exhilarating, and totally fascinating. I have no real recollection of what was said, but I vividly remember how it was said and the transforming effect it had on the congregation. My fixation on the preacher and his passionate shouts and wails was only broken by my friends' mom who had been sitting with us but was now crawling on her hands and knees to the altar crying and shouting her son's names.
Please don't read this as a cynical attempt at humor or a derisive analysis of a different manner of worship. There was never even a momentary impulse to elbow my fellow visitors and snicker. I was all-in, emotionally and spiritually, and left there transformed at some level I still can't deny or explain. But I am convinced of this much. The fire that Jesus said he had come to ignite swept through that little church and warmed every soul in the place. The fire Jesus is anxious to light is the same fire John the Baptist spoke of in Luke 3:16. John, and every other preacher who came after him including this one, applied the water of baptism which is a sign of what Jesus came to do: to ignite the world with the fire of baptism which is nothing less than the transforming power and presence of Almighty God through the person of his Holy Spirit. It was this same Spirit who blazed through that little church in my neighborhood and longs to blaze through every church that features a cross on its steeple.
Of course, we don't have to shout and dance in worship to give evidence of the Holy Spirit's presence. Seems like there is a story about a "still, small voice" that transforms with whispers. But the lasting impression from that Pentecostal service years ago is that the people in that church checked their inhibitions, their inappropriate sense of propriety, and their preconceived limitations of what God might do at the door. If a fire were going to break out, they were committed to be kindling, not water. As we continue our journey toward the cross and the baptism of sacrifice Jesus had reserved for only him, could we commit to checking our preconceived notions of what God can and can't or will and won't do at the door and just be kindling in a world that needs transforming fire?
Blessings,
Larry
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
We're Going On A Treasure Hunt
34 "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." (Luke 12:34 NIV)
What is your treasure? What is my treasure? Jesus' words prompted me to take a spontaneous inventory of my life. I've never given much though to my treasure because by conventional standards I'm not sure I qualify as one who holds treasure. So I thought I would initiate a little treasure hunt to see what I might come up with.
Where to start? In a scene from O Brother Where Art Thou, Delmar O'Donnell sighed, "You ain't no kinda man if you ain't got land." So let's see, I have a modest split-foyer on slightly less than a third of an acre of land. The roof is good, but the house needs painting, and moss constitutes most of the green in my yard. Home, sweet, home? Yes! Treasure? Not so much.
Cars, maybe! Cars can be a good way to spot someone's treasure. I was behind a guy in a Lamborghini a couple of weeks ago and his vanity tag said simply, "Me." Treasure, for sure. Do a 2009 Malibu and a 2000 Corolla qualify as treasure? Terrifically reliable transportation for which I am very grateful, but probably not treasure.
Hmmm, real estate, cars, oh, how about investments? I do have a little IRA from a 401K rollover from my radio days. And the United Methodist Church offers a really good retirement plan if you get in early. But I got in at 43 and it's a good news-bad news proposition. The bad news is, the beachfront bungalow in Key West is out. The good news is, we did graduate from cat food to spam with the recent growth in the stock market. Woo hoo!
Treasure? O wait, I do have a few guitars that I have picked up over 40 years of playing. But, they're really tools-of-the-trade more than collectibles. A couple of them have great sentimental value. And others hold some fascinating memories from my days on the road...if I could just remember them.
Maybe I'd better explore the heart angle. I think a good way to verify the contents of the heart is to see what's coming out of it. If conversations with my wife and friends and Facebook posts are any indication, my heart is full of my family, especially now that I have a grandson. Have I mentioned that I have a grandson? If it weren't for my family I'm not sure I would have much of anything to talk (or post) about. I have a reasonably-sized ego and am prone to bouts of selfishness and self-absorption. But, honestly, there is nothing I would not do or anything would not give up if it meant gain for my family. I've already verbally given the house to my grandson. But hey, he smiled and called me grandpa. What was I supposed to do?
More to the matter at hand, I would love to say that I think about God and heavenly things even more than I think about my family. But, that wouldn't be completely true, though it's truer today than a few years ago and, hopefully, will be even truer in the years to come. (Wesley called that sanctification, I think) I do, however, love God as best I can and I treasure his amazing love for me and would do anything in return (I think, I hope) for his kingdom. And I think that's what Jesus is getting at with his connection of treasure and heart. It's hard to be all-in to the things of the world and all-in to God, as well.
Maybe your own spontaneous treasure hunt would be an instructive detour on our journey to Jerusalem with Jesus. If you're like me you probably don't need an accountant or a lawyer. A little quiet time, some pictures, a history of your Facebook posts, and a good friend to bring perspective should help you find your treasure.
Blessings,
Larry
What is your treasure? What is my treasure? Jesus' words prompted me to take a spontaneous inventory of my life. I've never given much though to my treasure because by conventional standards I'm not sure I qualify as one who holds treasure. So I thought I would initiate a little treasure hunt to see what I might come up with.
Where to start? In a scene from O Brother Where Art Thou, Delmar O'Donnell sighed, "You ain't no kinda man if you ain't got land." So let's see, I have a modest split-foyer on slightly less than a third of an acre of land. The roof is good, but the house needs painting, and moss constitutes most of the green in my yard. Home, sweet, home? Yes! Treasure? Not so much.
Cars, maybe! Cars can be a good way to spot someone's treasure. I was behind a guy in a Lamborghini a couple of weeks ago and his vanity tag said simply, "Me." Treasure, for sure. Do a 2009 Malibu and a 2000 Corolla qualify as treasure? Terrifically reliable transportation for which I am very grateful, but probably not treasure.
Hmmm, real estate, cars, oh, how about investments? I do have a little IRA from a 401K rollover from my radio days. And the United Methodist Church offers a really good retirement plan if you get in early. But I got in at 43 and it's a good news-bad news proposition. The bad news is, the beachfront bungalow in Key West is out. The good news is, we did graduate from cat food to spam with the recent growth in the stock market. Woo hoo!
Treasure? O wait, I do have a few guitars that I have picked up over 40 years of playing. But, they're really tools-of-the-trade more than collectibles. A couple of them have great sentimental value. And others hold some fascinating memories from my days on the road...if I could just remember them.
Maybe I'd better explore the heart angle. I think a good way to verify the contents of the heart is to see what's coming out of it. If conversations with my wife and friends and Facebook posts are any indication, my heart is full of my family, especially now that I have a grandson. Have I mentioned that I have a grandson? If it weren't for my family I'm not sure I would have much of anything to talk (or post) about. I have a reasonably-sized ego and am prone to bouts of selfishness and self-absorption. But, honestly, there is nothing I would not do or anything would not give up if it meant gain for my family. I've already verbally given the house to my grandson. But hey, he smiled and called me grandpa. What was I supposed to do?
More to the matter at hand, I would love to say that I think about God and heavenly things even more than I think about my family. But, that wouldn't be completely true, though it's truer today than a few years ago and, hopefully, will be even truer in the years to come. (Wesley called that sanctification, I think) I do, however, love God as best I can and I treasure his amazing love for me and would do anything in return (I think, I hope) for his kingdom. And I think that's what Jesus is getting at with his connection of treasure and heart. It's hard to be all-in to the things of the world and all-in to God, as well.
Maybe your own spontaneous treasure hunt would be an instructive detour on our journey to Jerusalem with Jesus. If you're like me you probably don't need an accountant or a lawyer. A little quiet time, some pictures, a history of your Facebook posts, and a good friend to bring perspective should help you find your treasure.
Blessings,
Larry
Monday, March 4, 2013
Work Is For the Birds
22 Then Jesus said to his disciples: "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. 23 Life is more than food, and the body more than clothes. 24 Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds! (Luke 12:22-24 NIV)
Some years ago I had a friend who was obsessed with making money. Now we all like to have money and most of us work pretty hard for what we have. Nothing wrong with that. But my friend had what I thought was an unhealthy need to be deemed successful in the eyes of friends and, especially, his father, whom he was convinced didn't think he would ever amount to much. My friend had a good job and took on two small businesses on the side, one of which grew to be much bigger than he ever imagined. He made a lot of money which he invested in houses which, in his imaginary spare time, he flipped to make even more money.
The problem was that work became his life. Family and friends faded into the shadow cast by the next big project looming in the distance. Rest was something unsuccessful people did because they didn't have enough ambition to keep them busy 24-7. However, his very human heart forced him to slow down and re-prioritize his attempt at a super-human life. I'm happy to report that he has been able to maintain the slower pace dictated by his health and seems to be happier now with what he has than he was during his perilous quest for what he didn't have (or really need).
Jesus' words above are often misconstrued. At face value they can be taken either as a pointless platitude that doesn't work in the real world or a naive suggestion that we can just sit down and wait for God to bless us with whatever we need. When we're dealing with the very real prospects of having more month than money the last thing we need is someone telling us not to worry. And it's either laziness (sloth is a good biblical term) or bad theology that says we don't really have to work, God will just drop whatever we need in our laps.
So how do we read this? Is there anything that connects with our reality or is Jesus teasing us with more of his patented hyperbole? (think about a camel going through the eye of a needle, Luke 18:24-25) Let's take Jesus' challenge and consider the ravens. Birds spend their days doing what birds do, singing, making nests, and searching for food. These are all very reasonable activities for birds. However, sewing and reaping are not. Birds don't sew seeds then water and fertilize them. They don't later reap the harvest of grain or whatever the seeds produce. Birds don't build storage facilities and then store up a winter's worth of food. It's way beyond their ability. They don't need to. They spend their days doing what God gave them the ability to do, then they rest and get up and do it again in the morning.
My friend was trying to do things far beyond his abilities, beyond anyone's reasonable abilities. God gives us the ability and opportunity to work and he wants us to stay busy. To be sure, sometimes our work takes more time and effort and we all have to spend some long days or nights discharging our responsibilities and obligations to our work. But, there is a line that we all stand in danger of crossing. Are we working to sustain life, or is our work draining us of life? Is something inside driving us to reach for more than we really need? Are we operating beyond our abilities and assuming that our equipment will hold up under the strain?
I don't think Jesus is offering platitudes or hyperbole. I think he's keeping it real and wants us to as well. Lent is a time for inward examination. Honest examination. Maybe this detour has a bench with a view. Maybe we should sit down for a while and think about how we're spending the time God gives us. Maybe we should take some time to re-prioritize our lives and stay within the boundaries of what we are reasonably able to do. Or, maybe we should just lay down a take nap.
Blessings,
Larry
Some years ago I had a friend who was obsessed with making money. Now we all like to have money and most of us work pretty hard for what we have. Nothing wrong with that. But my friend had what I thought was an unhealthy need to be deemed successful in the eyes of friends and, especially, his father, whom he was convinced didn't think he would ever amount to much. My friend had a good job and took on two small businesses on the side, one of which grew to be much bigger than he ever imagined. He made a lot of money which he invested in houses which, in his imaginary spare time, he flipped to make even more money.
The problem was that work became his life. Family and friends faded into the shadow cast by the next big project looming in the distance. Rest was something unsuccessful people did because they didn't have enough ambition to keep them busy 24-7. However, his very human heart forced him to slow down and re-prioritize his attempt at a super-human life. I'm happy to report that he has been able to maintain the slower pace dictated by his health and seems to be happier now with what he has than he was during his perilous quest for what he didn't have (or really need).
Jesus' words above are often misconstrued. At face value they can be taken either as a pointless platitude that doesn't work in the real world or a naive suggestion that we can just sit down and wait for God to bless us with whatever we need. When we're dealing with the very real prospects of having more month than money the last thing we need is someone telling us not to worry. And it's either laziness (sloth is a good biblical term) or bad theology that says we don't really have to work, God will just drop whatever we need in our laps.
So how do we read this? Is there anything that connects with our reality or is Jesus teasing us with more of his patented hyperbole? (think about a camel going through the eye of a needle, Luke 18:24-25) Let's take Jesus' challenge and consider the ravens. Birds spend their days doing what birds do, singing, making nests, and searching for food. These are all very reasonable activities for birds. However, sewing and reaping are not. Birds don't sew seeds then water and fertilize them. They don't later reap the harvest of grain or whatever the seeds produce. Birds don't build storage facilities and then store up a winter's worth of food. It's way beyond their ability. They don't need to. They spend their days doing what God gave them the ability to do, then they rest and get up and do it again in the morning.
My friend was trying to do things far beyond his abilities, beyond anyone's reasonable abilities. God gives us the ability and opportunity to work and he wants us to stay busy. To be sure, sometimes our work takes more time and effort and we all have to spend some long days or nights discharging our responsibilities and obligations to our work. But, there is a line that we all stand in danger of crossing. Are we working to sustain life, or is our work draining us of life? Is something inside driving us to reach for more than we really need? Are we operating beyond our abilities and assuming that our equipment will hold up under the strain?
I don't think Jesus is offering platitudes or hyperbole. I think he's keeping it real and wants us to as well. Lent is a time for inward examination. Honest examination. Maybe this detour has a bench with a view. Maybe we should sit down for a while and think about how we're spending the time God gives us. Maybe we should take some time to re-prioritize our lives and stay within the boundaries of what we are reasonably able to do. Or, maybe we should just lay down a take nap.
Blessings,
Larry
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Failure Is Not An Option
16 And he told them this parable: "The ground of a certain rich man produced a good crop. 17 He thought to himself, 'What shall I do? I have no place to store my crops.' 18 "Then he said, 'This is what I'll do. I will tear down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. 19 And I'll say to myself, "You have plenty of good things laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry." ' 20 "But God said to him, 'You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself ?' 21 "This is how it will be with anyone who stores up things for himself but is not rich toward God." (Luke 12:16-21 NIV)
I am so proud of the way our church is reaching out to young adults in our community, and the way they are responding. The Church in general is struggling with how to keep youth from falling through the cracks after graduation from high school. Our church has struggled, too. I was an active part of young adult ministries through two cycles of waxing and waning. During those periods of retraction which inevitably followed any period of traction I became discouraged. We were expending a lot of energy for what would be considered by the world's standards very little gain. Then, one night as I drove home from one of our gatherings for food and worship that had only three young adult participants (fewer than the number of support staff) I broke down. I was fussing with God in my spirit, holding a pity-party of epic proportions. "Why, God, are you letting this fail? Don't young adults matter to you? What about these volunteers who are even more crestfallen than me?" I wailed and moaned all the way home.
Then, that night as I lay in bed, disappointment and frustration walling off any chance for sleep, God broke through. No, I didn't hear the audible voice of God booming from the heavens or even the still small voice of His Spirit whispering in my ear. There was, however, a very clear sense of God's presence inside and this was the message. "Was I not there tonight in your midst? Remember the 'wherever two or more are gathered' thing? Didn't one of those young adults tell you through tears that he had broken up with his girlfriend and the worship reminded him that he wasn't alone? Didn't that young woman share an insight into the Scripture from her life for, perhaps, the first time? The time you spend with me has eternal significance that cannot be measured in numbers.This was a great night for the kingdom. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and go to sleep." I did.
Most of us are aware of the most obvious truth from the passage. We can't take it with us. Thus, we shouldn't spend so much time fretting over stuff that sickness, death, or one bad decision can rip from our fingers in an instant. But what about the corollary that can easily be missed? Things we do for God can never be taken from us and in fact are "saved to the cloud" if you will, or, indelibly inked (for those more comfortable with a Gutenberg metaphor) in the archives of heaven. Every single thing we do for God will reap some sort of harvest that will benefit someone else. In fact, the only time we ever fail in the kingdom of God, is when we fail to try.
In the kingdom of God. failure is not an option because God is working with and through us in all that we do, And, in the kingdom, God determines the ultimate worth of the outcome. (See Romans 8:28) As we continue our journey, never miss a chance for a kingdom detour. There may be someone or a situation just around the corner that the world has labeled "Failure" that God is just waiting to stamp "Victory." All he needs is someone to try.
Blessings,
Larry
I am so proud of the way our church is reaching out to young adults in our community, and the way they are responding. The Church in general is struggling with how to keep youth from falling through the cracks after graduation from high school. Our church has struggled, too. I was an active part of young adult ministries through two cycles of waxing and waning. During those periods of retraction which inevitably followed any period of traction I became discouraged. We were expending a lot of energy for what would be considered by the world's standards very little gain. Then, one night as I drove home from one of our gatherings for food and worship that had only three young adult participants (fewer than the number of support staff) I broke down. I was fussing with God in my spirit, holding a pity-party of epic proportions. "Why, God, are you letting this fail? Don't young adults matter to you? What about these volunteers who are even more crestfallen than me?" I wailed and moaned all the way home.
Then, that night as I lay in bed, disappointment and frustration walling off any chance for sleep, God broke through. No, I didn't hear the audible voice of God booming from the heavens or even the still small voice of His Spirit whispering in my ear. There was, however, a very clear sense of God's presence inside and this was the message. "Was I not there tonight in your midst? Remember the 'wherever two or more are gathered' thing? Didn't one of those young adults tell you through tears that he had broken up with his girlfriend and the worship reminded him that he wasn't alone? Didn't that young woman share an insight into the Scripture from her life for, perhaps, the first time? The time you spend with me has eternal significance that cannot be measured in numbers.This was a great night for the kingdom. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and go to sleep." I did.
Most of us are aware of the most obvious truth from the passage. We can't take it with us. Thus, we shouldn't spend so much time fretting over stuff that sickness, death, or one bad decision can rip from our fingers in an instant. But what about the corollary that can easily be missed? Things we do for God can never be taken from us and in fact are "saved to the cloud" if you will, or, indelibly inked (for those more comfortable with a Gutenberg metaphor) in the archives of heaven. Every single thing we do for God will reap some sort of harvest that will benefit someone else. In fact, the only time we ever fail in the kingdom of God, is when we fail to try.
In the kingdom of God. failure is not an option because God is working with and through us in all that we do, And, in the kingdom, God determines the ultimate worth of the outcome. (See Romans 8:28) As we continue our journey, never miss a chance for a kingdom detour. There may be someone or a situation just around the corner that the world has labeled "Failure" that God is just waiting to stamp "Victory." All he needs is someone to try.
Blessings,
Larry
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Caveat Hospes
37 When Jesus had finished speaking, a Pharisee invited him to eat with him; so he went in and reclined at the table. 38 But the Pharisee, noticing that Jesus did not first wash before the meal, was surprised. (Luke 11:37-38 NIV)
As an empty-nester I sometimes reflect on those days when our two girls were home. It was a wonderful era of laughing, crying, singing, teaching, learning, bonding, and so much more. I don't know how it is at your house, but for us, the locus of our most joyous moments and the most poignant memories was the dinner table. We called it "eight feet under the table" and it was full contact dining. We shared the day's activities, quoted movies, sang songs, told jokes and occasionally (okay, frequently) threw wadded up napkins at each other.
There was, however, one caveat to our time around the table: no TV and, later, no texting/social media. Mealtime was community time for our little of community of four and we wanted everyone to be "present" at the table. Meals were the time for us to look each other in the eyes and share at the deepest levels. The caveat enhanced community and it was rarely questioned or resisted, Tennessee football games on TV notwithstanding.
Our community-building caveat stands in tension with a community-wrecking caveat embedded in the verses above. To be fair to the Pharisee, no alliteration intended, hand-washing before a meal was part of the law as interpreted by the Scribes and enforced by the Pharisees. However, the Law as given to Moses was intended to enhance community-building relationships, not creates barriers. The fact that Jesus uses the Pharisee's surprise at his failure to wash up to launch into a full-blown rebuke reveals the hidden motive behind the Pharisee's tongue-clucking and eye-rolling (my interpretation).
Jesus goes on to accuse the Pharisee and his colleagues of greed, wickedness, injustice, self-aggrandizement, and placing the people under the burden of a divisive matrix of law crafted from the Law that God intended to bind them together and set them free. The Pharisee's response to Jesus' lapse in hygiene indicated a caveat attached to the dinner invitation. Jesus was only welcome in the club to the extent he would abide by their rules. But a rule that puts ritual before hospitality is a misreading of the law of which Jesus would have no part.
As we continue our Lenten journey we have to be aware of the premium Jesus placed on hospitality and how he welcomed people into his presence and availed himself of other folks' hospitality as a portal into relationship. Do we place hidden caveats in our invitations to others to join us on our journey? Do we tell them come along, as long as you walk like we walk, talk like we talk, and think like we think? Do we value the rules we establish to protect our little world more than the people all around we might invite to join us? If so, we need to put a sign around our neck that says, "Caveat Hospes." Go ahead, Google it.
Blessings,
Larry
As an empty-nester I sometimes reflect on those days when our two girls were home. It was a wonderful era of laughing, crying, singing, teaching, learning, bonding, and so much more. I don't know how it is at your house, but for us, the locus of our most joyous moments and the most poignant memories was the dinner table. We called it "eight feet under the table" and it was full contact dining. We shared the day's activities, quoted movies, sang songs, told jokes and occasionally (okay, frequently) threw wadded up napkins at each other.
There was, however, one caveat to our time around the table: no TV and, later, no texting/social media. Mealtime was community time for our little of community of four and we wanted everyone to be "present" at the table. Meals were the time for us to look each other in the eyes and share at the deepest levels. The caveat enhanced community and it was rarely questioned or resisted, Tennessee football games on TV notwithstanding.
Our community-building caveat stands in tension with a community-wrecking caveat embedded in the verses above. To be fair to the Pharisee, no alliteration intended, hand-washing before a meal was part of the law as interpreted by the Scribes and enforced by the Pharisees. However, the Law as given to Moses was intended to enhance community-building relationships, not creates barriers. The fact that Jesus uses the Pharisee's surprise at his failure to wash up to launch into a full-blown rebuke reveals the hidden motive behind the Pharisee's tongue-clucking and eye-rolling (my interpretation).
Jesus goes on to accuse the Pharisee and his colleagues of greed, wickedness, injustice, self-aggrandizement, and placing the people under the burden of a divisive matrix of law crafted from the Law that God intended to bind them together and set them free. The Pharisee's response to Jesus' lapse in hygiene indicated a caveat attached to the dinner invitation. Jesus was only welcome in the club to the extent he would abide by their rules. But a rule that puts ritual before hospitality is a misreading of the law of which Jesus would have no part.
As we continue our Lenten journey we have to be aware of the premium Jesus placed on hospitality and how he welcomed people into his presence and availed himself of other folks' hospitality as a portal into relationship. Do we place hidden caveats in our invitations to others to join us on our journey? Do we tell them come along, as long as you walk like we walk, talk like we talk, and think like we think? Do we value the rules we establish to protect our little world more than the people all around we might invite to join us? If so, we need to put a sign around our neck that says, "Caveat Hospes." Go ahead, Google it.
Blessings,
Larry
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
This Little Light of Mine
33 "No one lights a lamp and puts it in a place where it will be hidden, or under a bowl. Instead he puts it on its stand, so that those who come in may see the light. 34 Your eye is the lamp of your body. When your eyes are good, your whole body also is full of light. But when they are bad, your body also is full of darkness. 35 See to it, then, that the light within you is not darkness. 36 Therefore, if your whole body is full of light, and no part of it dark, it will be completely lighted, as when the light of a lamp shines on you." (Luke 11:33-36 NIV)
Years ago I agreed to help a friend of mine who does fireworks with a show he wanted to choreograph to a live symphony. The idea was to put the fireworks cues in the appropriate places on the musical scores so that the fireworks would accent the dynamics of the music. I would sit with the orchestra during the performance and read the scores, calling the cue numbers over a walkie-talkie to the guys in the bunker firing the show. It was a good plan. To differentiate the cues from any musical markings on the score I decided to write the numbers with a red sharpie. That was not a good plan.
Rehearsal was earlier in the afternoon with plenty of daylight and reading the cue numbers presented no problems. However, fireworks shows need to happen at night, right? When showtime rolled around all the lights were turned out except for the stage lighting which, for dramatic effect, utilized mostly red lights. The effect of the red lights on my red cues was to essentially render them invisible. I was able to call the first few cues by memory while my friend borrowed a flashlight from a nearby policeman. The pure white light from the flashlight was able to overcome the red glow and save the show. The red lighting looked great on stage, but it almost ruined the fireworks because it hid the things I needed to see the most.
Jesus' words from Luke 11 are likely familiar to people who know little or nothing about other parts of the Bible. Most of us remember the words to the Vacation Bible School classic, "This Little Light of Mine," which takes its inspiration from Jesus' words. But let's not take time for the familiar part of the passage that is practically self-explanatory. Let's consider verse 35 which has a "what's wrong with this picture" quality.
"See to it, then, that the light within you is not darkness." What? How can light be darkness? Didn't we learn in sixth-grade science class that darkness is an absence of light? And isn't the light in question, the light within us, really the light of Jesus? How can that be darkness? How do we make sense of this? We start by going back 2,000 years to explore the original context. The way people understood sight in Jesus' day was that the eye actually emitted light which then made contact with whatever was around us. When the light that was coming from inside us made contact with something around us, we could see it. It wasn't light coming in, as we now know, it was light going out.
Thus, if the light that was shining from within was being reflected from the pure light of Jesus living inside, then it would reveal everything outside including harmful things that could trip us up. However, if there was no light from Jesus inside and, instead, our eyes emitted a self-generated light that merely reflected the shadowy light of the world that we allowed in (understanding "the world" from a New Testament perspective as a reality apart from the things of God), then the harmful things of the world would disappear in that light and we would be subject to them becoming stumbling blocks. And let's be real. The world can cast a very appealing light on very some dangerous things and make them look irresistible.
As we continue on our journey we should consider what is lighting our path. The shadowy light of the world can obscure danger like the blurry light of three o'clock in the morning can obscure the leg of a chair on the way to the bathroom. The light of Jesus and his brilliant kingdom of truth and compassion will illuminate those things upon which we can stub not just our toes but our lives. All together now, "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine..."
Blessings,
Larry
Years ago I agreed to help a friend of mine who does fireworks with a show he wanted to choreograph to a live symphony. The idea was to put the fireworks cues in the appropriate places on the musical scores so that the fireworks would accent the dynamics of the music. I would sit with the orchestra during the performance and read the scores, calling the cue numbers over a walkie-talkie to the guys in the bunker firing the show. It was a good plan. To differentiate the cues from any musical markings on the score I decided to write the numbers with a red sharpie. That was not a good plan.
Rehearsal was earlier in the afternoon with plenty of daylight and reading the cue numbers presented no problems. However, fireworks shows need to happen at night, right? When showtime rolled around all the lights were turned out except for the stage lighting which, for dramatic effect, utilized mostly red lights. The effect of the red lights on my red cues was to essentially render them invisible. I was able to call the first few cues by memory while my friend borrowed a flashlight from a nearby policeman. The pure white light from the flashlight was able to overcome the red glow and save the show. The red lighting looked great on stage, but it almost ruined the fireworks because it hid the things I needed to see the most.
Jesus' words from Luke 11 are likely familiar to people who know little or nothing about other parts of the Bible. Most of us remember the words to the Vacation Bible School classic, "This Little Light of Mine," which takes its inspiration from Jesus' words. But let's not take time for the familiar part of the passage that is practically self-explanatory. Let's consider verse 35 which has a "what's wrong with this picture" quality.
"See to it, then, that the light within you is not darkness." What? How can light be darkness? Didn't we learn in sixth-grade science class that darkness is an absence of light? And isn't the light in question, the light within us, really the light of Jesus? How can that be darkness? How do we make sense of this? We start by going back 2,000 years to explore the original context. The way people understood sight in Jesus' day was that the eye actually emitted light which then made contact with whatever was around us. When the light that was coming from inside us made contact with something around us, we could see it. It wasn't light coming in, as we now know, it was light going out.
Thus, if the light that was shining from within was being reflected from the pure light of Jesus living inside, then it would reveal everything outside including harmful things that could trip us up. However, if there was no light from Jesus inside and, instead, our eyes emitted a self-generated light that merely reflected the shadowy light of the world that we allowed in (understanding "the world" from a New Testament perspective as a reality apart from the things of God), then the harmful things of the world would disappear in that light and we would be subject to them becoming stumbling blocks. And let's be real. The world can cast a very appealing light on very some dangerous things and make them look irresistible.
As we continue on our journey we should consider what is lighting our path. The shadowy light of the world can obscure danger like the blurry light of three o'clock in the morning can obscure the leg of a chair on the way to the bathroom. The light of Jesus and his brilliant kingdom of truth and compassion will illuminate those things upon which we can stub not just our toes but our lives. All together now, "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine..."
Blessings,
Larry
Monday, February 25, 2013
Silence is [Not] Golden
14 Jesus was driving out a demon that was mute. When the demon left, the man who had been mute spoke, and the crowd was amazed. (Luke 11:14 NIV)
Near the end of the movie Mrs. Doubtfire, Robin Williams is not allowed to see his children without supervision after his disguise as a nanny is uncovered. The judge presiding over the custody battle makes the unfair (based on what is really true) assumption that Robin Williams' is unstable after appearing before his children in drag. His estranged wife (Sally Field) knew the truth but remained silent at the hearing because of her anger at being deceived by her husband's act. An unfair decision was made because someone who knew the truth remained silent.
I remember being in church when I was little and hearing the preacher talk about sins of omission. After church I asked my mom what that meant. She said it was when we made God unhappy because we didn't do what we should have done. My mom's explanation has haunted me many times when I missed a chance to do the right thing and remained silent or withheld action because I made an unfair decision about someone or a situation.
Stories about demons and exorcisms are tricky because they create handy loopholes for 21st century, post-enlightenment Christians. To be sure the world was understood very differently 20 centuries ago. The earth was flat and many medical and probably all emotional and mental disorders were attributed to demonic possession. While it's fairly safe to assume that many of the seizures that were blamed on demons might very well have resulted from epilepsy or other related conditions, it's unsafe to dismiss the evil in all of us and its potential to harm others, particularly when the evil stifles an urge to speak out against injustice against a person or a group of people.
The verse above says that the demon had rendered the man mute and when Jesus cast it out the man spoke. If we can open ourselves up to the spirit-rich world of the first century and bring that forward into our contemporary perspective, maybe we can allow for the possibility that evil does visit us (if not takes up residence). And while that evil often manifests as dangerous, hurtful words spewing forth like foul water from a tainted spring, it can also manifest as a spring that has simply dried up and offers no sweet, living water.
As we continue on our journey perhaps we should carefully consider sudden opportunities to take a detour to be Jesus, the advocate, in the lives of people whom we know are being unfairly judged. We risk the possibility of catching an arrow meant for the person next to us, but at least if water comes out the hole the arrow makes, it will be the living water Jesus wants us to offer and not the brackish swill that is far too abundant. Or, and maybe even worse, no water comes out and we wind up like an annoying broken faucet that offers nothing at all.
Blessings,
Larry
Near the end of the movie Mrs. Doubtfire, Robin Williams is not allowed to see his children without supervision after his disguise as a nanny is uncovered. The judge presiding over the custody battle makes the unfair (based on what is really true) assumption that Robin Williams' is unstable after appearing before his children in drag. His estranged wife (Sally Field) knew the truth but remained silent at the hearing because of her anger at being deceived by her husband's act. An unfair decision was made because someone who knew the truth remained silent.
I remember being in church when I was little and hearing the preacher talk about sins of omission. After church I asked my mom what that meant. She said it was when we made God unhappy because we didn't do what we should have done. My mom's explanation has haunted me many times when I missed a chance to do the right thing and remained silent or withheld action because I made an unfair decision about someone or a situation.
Stories about demons and exorcisms are tricky because they create handy loopholes for 21st century, post-enlightenment Christians. To be sure the world was understood very differently 20 centuries ago. The earth was flat and many medical and probably all emotional and mental disorders were attributed to demonic possession. While it's fairly safe to assume that many of the seizures that were blamed on demons might very well have resulted from epilepsy or other related conditions, it's unsafe to dismiss the evil in all of us and its potential to harm others, particularly when the evil stifles an urge to speak out against injustice against a person or a group of people.
The verse above says that the demon had rendered the man mute and when Jesus cast it out the man spoke. If we can open ourselves up to the spirit-rich world of the first century and bring that forward into our contemporary perspective, maybe we can allow for the possibility that evil does visit us (if not takes up residence). And while that evil often manifests as dangerous, hurtful words spewing forth like foul water from a tainted spring, it can also manifest as a spring that has simply dried up and offers no sweet, living water.
As we continue on our journey perhaps we should carefully consider sudden opportunities to take a detour to be Jesus, the advocate, in the lives of people whom we know are being unfairly judged. We risk the possibility of catching an arrow meant for the person next to us, but at least if water comes out the hole the arrow makes, it will be the living water Jesus wants us to offer and not the brackish swill that is far too abundant. Or, and maybe even worse, no water comes out and we wind up like an annoying broken faucet that offers nothing at all.
Blessings,
Larry
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Praying with Shameless Audacity
5 Then he said to them, "Suppose one of you has a friend, and he goes to him at midnight and says, 'Friend, lend me three loaves of bread, 6 because a friend of mine on a journey has come to me, and I have nothing to set before him.' 7 "Then the one inside answers, 'Don't bother me. The door is already locked, and my children are with me in bed. I can't get up and give you anything.' 8 I tell you, though he will not get up and give him the bread because he is his friend, yet because of the man's shameless audacity he will get up and give him as much as he needs. (Luke 11:5-8 NIV)
Ok, show of hands, who completely expected shameless audacity to be a desirable virtue in the Bible? In Genesis Jacob had the audacity to wrestle with God and wound up with a bad limp for for his trouble. In Exodus Moses had the audacity to argue with God that he wasn't qualified to lead a rescue operation and wound up face to face with Pharaoh. And what about Jesus? Wasn't humility a hallmark Jesus modeled for his followers? Didn't Jesus rebuke Peter for shamelessly claiming he would follow him anywhere?
And yet, if we read Jesus' example allegorically (reading God into the narrative), we seem to hear Jesus saying that good prayer technique includes pestering God into submission so that we get what we want. While that presents on the surface as profoundly flawed theology, the idea is not without precedent. In Genesis 18 Abraham negotiates with God over how many righteous people it would take to spare the whole city of Sodom. Abraham keeps lowering the number until God relents. Had Abraham opened God's eyes to an error in judgment? Or, did God let Abraham walk right into a new understanding of grace?
Again, if we see Jesus' example pointing toward our relationship with God, we can come away with the idea that God can be moved to action. But, there is an important feature of the friend's midnight request. The bread wasn't really for him as much as it was for the guest who had come for a visit. We remember that in the culture of first century Palestine it would have been a humiliating faux pas to have nothing to set before a house guest. E would have had cameras in the guy's front yard catching the scandal on video. People magazine would have done an expose'. Geraldo would have investigated. Hospitality was huge. Guests were honored. To be sure, the host and the guest would be served by the bread, and, God's value on hospitality would be honored.
Prayers are honored, as well, especially prayers that ask God to do something that is completely within God's character. That is explicit in the model for prayer Jesus gives the disciples in the verses that come just before today's passage. When we pray, "Thy will be done..." we are setting up a framework for our prayers that makes God's will the filter. If God sometimes "seems" unresponsive to us, it may be because we are asking for something that God can't honor because it is contrary to his will. As we keep asking we have an opportunity to hear the request again and, perhaps, refine or retract our petition and rethink the motivation behind our request.
What are we praying for? Why are we praying for it? Can God, to the extent we can understand his will, support our request? If not, maybe we should reconsider the prayer. If it is something that reflects God's character then go for it. Keep praying. God's listening to what we are saying, and he wants us to listen to what we're saying, too.
Blessings,
Larry
Ok, show of hands, who completely expected shameless audacity to be a desirable virtue in the Bible? In Genesis Jacob had the audacity to wrestle with God and wound up with a bad limp for for his trouble. In Exodus Moses had the audacity to argue with God that he wasn't qualified to lead a rescue operation and wound up face to face with Pharaoh. And what about Jesus? Wasn't humility a hallmark Jesus modeled for his followers? Didn't Jesus rebuke Peter for shamelessly claiming he would follow him anywhere?
And yet, if we read Jesus' example allegorically (reading God into the narrative), we seem to hear Jesus saying that good prayer technique includes pestering God into submission so that we get what we want. While that presents on the surface as profoundly flawed theology, the idea is not without precedent. In Genesis 18 Abraham negotiates with God over how many righteous people it would take to spare the whole city of Sodom. Abraham keeps lowering the number until God relents. Had Abraham opened God's eyes to an error in judgment? Or, did God let Abraham walk right into a new understanding of grace?
Again, if we see Jesus' example pointing toward our relationship with God, we can come away with the idea that God can be moved to action. But, there is an important feature of the friend's midnight request. The bread wasn't really for him as much as it was for the guest who had come for a visit. We remember that in the culture of first century Palestine it would have been a humiliating faux pas to have nothing to set before a house guest. E would have had cameras in the guy's front yard catching the scandal on video. People magazine would have done an expose'. Geraldo would have investigated. Hospitality was huge. Guests were honored. To be sure, the host and the guest would be served by the bread, and, God's value on hospitality would be honored.
Prayers are honored, as well, especially prayers that ask God to do something that is completely within God's character. That is explicit in the model for prayer Jesus gives the disciples in the verses that come just before today's passage. When we pray, "Thy will be done..." we are setting up a framework for our prayers that makes God's will the filter. If God sometimes "seems" unresponsive to us, it may be because we are asking for something that God can't honor because it is contrary to his will. As we keep asking we have an opportunity to hear the request again and, perhaps, refine or retract our petition and rethink the motivation behind our request.
What are we praying for? Why are we praying for it? Can God, to the extent we can understand his will, support our request? If not, maybe we should reconsider the prayer. If it is something that reflects God's character then go for it. Keep praying. God's listening to what we are saying, and he wants us to listen to what we're saying, too.
Blessings,
Larry
Thursday, February 21, 2013
A "Certain" Prayer
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. He said to them, "when you pray, say:
"'Father," hallowed be you name your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. Forgive us our sins, for we also forgive everyone who sins against us. And leads us not into temptation.'"
(Luke 11:1-4 NIV)
I often catch myself lingering over words as one would linger over some new feature on a familiar landscape. There is a large vacant field behind the Walmart at Walker Springs and there is a mailbox on a post right in the middle of it. Why? There are no buildings; there is no access road, just a mailbox. Why is it there? What does it mean?
The word in question is "certain" in today's passage. Why does it say that he prayed in a "certain" place. He had to have been in a certain place, as opposed to several places at once (though Jesus could have pulled that off if you consider whole omnipresence thing). But Luke clearly is up to something with this word because it's not the first time he used it. In the story of the Good Samaritan there is a "certain" lawyer."There is a "certain" man who was traveling to a "certain" village. In the story of Mary and Martha there was a "certain" woman.
All of these "certain" people and places would play key interpretive roles in Jesus' journey toward Jerusalem. This "certain" place where Jesus had paused to pray is the location where Jesus shared with the disciples a "certain" way to pray in the prayer that follows. In Jesus' day it was common for teachers to share particular prayers or patterns of prayer with their disciples. Apparently John the Baptist had given his disciples a prayer, so Jesus' followers wanted one.
So what is the pattern that emerges from Jesus' prayer? If I might borrow a neat acronym from the Alpha course we offer twice each year, Jesus has given them a pattern that can be summed up with ACTS: adoration, confession, thanksgiving, and supplication. Jesus suggests that whenever and wherever we pray we include praise and adoration to God, the Father, a confession of sins, thanks for all that God provides (which is always just enough every day), and supplication, or simply asking God for help with particular needs.
When we pray this way we find our selves moving, not to a certain physical location, but to a certain spiritual and emotional location. Jesus' prayer can move us from a place of anxiety, frustration, despair, guilt, (name the places where you get stuck emotionally and spiritually) to a certain place of peace that flows from our certain place of humble submission (in the highest sense of that word) to a loving Father who will tenderly listen, speak, and comfort.
Do you have a "certain" place to pray? Wherever that may be, consider the pattern of the Lord's Prayer as a way of moving to a "certain" place of intimacy with the God who will always find us, wherever we are.
Blessings,
Larry
"'Father," hallowed be you name your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. Forgive us our sins, for we also forgive everyone who sins against us. And leads us not into temptation.'"
(Luke 11:1-4 NIV)
I often catch myself lingering over words as one would linger over some new feature on a familiar landscape. There is a large vacant field behind the Walmart at Walker Springs and there is a mailbox on a post right in the middle of it. Why? There are no buildings; there is no access road, just a mailbox. Why is it there? What does it mean?
The word in question is "certain" in today's passage. Why does it say that he prayed in a "certain" place. He had to have been in a certain place, as opposed to several places at once (though Jesus could have pulled that off if you consider whole omnipresence thing). But Luke clearly is up to something with this word because it's not the first time he used it. In the story of the Good Samaritan there is a "certain" lawyer."There is a "certain" man who was traveling to a "certain" village. In the story of Mary and Martha there was a "certain" woman.
All of these "certain" people and places would play key interpretive roles in Jesus' journey toward Jerusalem. This "certain" place where Jesus had paused to pray is the location where Jesus shared with the disciples a "certain" way to pray in the prayer that follows. In Jesus' day it was common for teachers to share particular prayers or patterns of prayer with their disciples. Apparently John the Baptist had given his disciples a prayer, so Jesus' followers wanted one.
So what is the pattern that emerges from Jesus' prayer? If I might borrow a neat acronym from the Alpha course we offer twice each year, Jesus has given them a pattern that can be summed up with ACTS: adoration, confession, thanksgiving, and supplication. Jesus suggests that whenever and wherever we pray we include praise and adoration to God, the Father, a confession of sins, thanks for all that God provides (which is always just enough every day), and supplication, or simply asking God for help with particular needs.
When we pray this way we find our selves moving, not to a certain physical location, but to a certain spiritual and emotional location. Jesus' prayer can move us from a place of anxiety, frustration, despair, guilt, (name the places where you get stuck emotionally and spiritually) to a certain place of peace that flows from our certain place of humble submission (in the highest sense of that word) to a loving Father who will tenderly listen, speak, and comfort.
Do you have a "certain" place to pray? Wherever that may be, consider the pattern of the Lord's Prayer as a way of moving to a "certain" place of intimacy with the God who will always find us, wherever we are.
Blessings,
Larry
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
"(your name here), (your name here)"
38 As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. 39 She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. 40 But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”
41 “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, 42 but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:38-42 NIV)
My father's sister, Nellie, lived with my parents from the time they were married until she had to go to a nursing home in the last few years of her life. She loved my brother and me like her own children and was very much a part of our upbringing, which was fine by us because she was much better at spoiling us than disciplining us--an attribute my brother and I understood early on and took full advantage of.
When I balked at accomplishing some task like homework or picking up my clothes because I had "better" things to do, she would call my name twice, for emphasis. I can still hear her saying, "Larry, Larry, your daddy is going to be put out with you if you get bad grades because you didn't do your homework." She wasn't angry, really, just concerned because I was not making the best choice. The repetition of my name was closer to a term of endearment than an admonishment because she loved me so much and wanted me to do the right thing. God bless you, Aunt Nellie, for caring that much about me.
Jesus does something similar with Martha because she is not making the best choice. His repeating of her name is an intriguing feature of the story. It points toward a relationship beyond that of a first meeting that the passage indicates. It would seem fairly certain that Jesus had never seen her before, but my guess is she had seen him, perhaps when he was teaching or had healed someone she knew. Only a few verses before, a lawyer in the synagogue who had an adversarial relationship with Jesus, had addressed him as "teacher." Martha called him "Lord." She clearly had already begun to be drawn by his true identity.
So, apparently, had her sister, Mary, who had the audacity to assume the role of a man in that culture and sit at Jesus' feet to learn. That must have pleased Jesus because he loved blowing up traditional roles, particularly when they limited people. But Martha was not doing a bad thing by serving Jesus (and probably an entourage of disciples). It would have been rude to invite people in and not take their coats, pour some sweet tea, and get some chips and salsa out pronto. And I think Jesus appreciated her hospitality, but he wanted her to put down the tea and take some time to drink deeply of Living Water. So with a sense of urgency tempered by the language of love he called to her, "Martha, Martha," perhaps patting a cushion on the floor near where he was reclining.
Jesus calls us to serve as he was called to serve. But one of the ways he serves us is to pour us tumblers sloshing over with Living Water as we sit at his feet and listen. So, as we continue our Lenten journey, let's listen. Why don't we make the best choice right now, regardless of the press of needs that keeps us hustling. Stop. Listen. Say your name twice out loud and imagine that it's Jesus calling and he's patting a cushion on the floor, or the car seat, or a chair in your cubicle. Go on, sit down and listen. I'm going to.
Blessings,
Larry
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Aw, Come On, Jesus! Not them.
On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
“What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”
He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”
“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”
But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”
In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’
“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”
The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”
Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:25-37 NIV)
One of my favorite professors from my time at Candler School of Theology is Dr. William Mallard. He is frighteningly intelligent and disarmingly charming. He can, seemingly without effort, bring a disturbing or confusing passage of Scripture to life and make you think you had it figured out all along while at the same time causing you rethink your conclusions. I'll never forget the day he lectured (preached, really) on this passage. It's so familiar to many that we can miss new understanding because we think we have it figured out.
He presented the story as a one-man drama. The setting was a synagogue where Jesus would go to study and discuss the Scriptures, often with a contingent of disciples in tow. On this particular occasion a lawyer (Dr. Mallard's words) confronts Jesus, most likely in an attempt to make him look bad in front of the community and blunt his sharply increasing popularity. When he asks a loaded question Jesus turns it on him and asks what he thinks. The disciples are standing behind Jesus wondering how this will turn out (no doubt remembering the first time he spoke in a Synagogue and made the people so mad they tried to throw him off a cliff).
The lawyer immediately recites the Shema Yisrael which is Deuteronomy 6:4-5 and happens to be the first passage of Scripture little Hebrew children learn. At this the disciples are a little tense knowing that he answered well. But Jesus essentially pats him on the head and says, "Good boy, you remember," which was more than a little humiliating for the lawyer. The disciples are all high-fiving each other and giving Jesus lots of "attaboys."
Feeling a flush of embarrassment the lawyer looks to save face so he asks Jesus, "Who is my neighbor," hoping to lure him into an answer that would make him look bad. To answer, Jesus does what Jesus does best. He tells a story. He has everyone in the room in the palm of his hand as he spins the tale about a hapless traveler on a dangerous road. When Jesus says that the priest, a religious professional often unpopular with the masses, walks right past without helping, the disciples are grinning and elbowing each other, watching the priest who would have been present for the service churn with anger.
Then when Jesus suggests that a Levite, an often even more widely despised, higher order of priest, walks by without helping the victim the disciples are chest-bumping each other and slapping Jesus on the back. "You tell 'em, Jesus (woot woot)."
Then, disaster strikes. Jesus begins to describe the hero of the story, and he's a...a...a...Samaritan? "Jesus," they think or maybe whisper, "Are you crazy? Really, a Samaritan? What were you thinking? You had the religious elites on the ropes and the crowd ready to crown you king. Now...we may be lucky to get out of here alive." The disciples slip Jesus out a side door and head for a bookstore to find of copy of "How to Win Friends and Influence People."
But Jesus didn't come to win friends and he certainly didn't need to learn how to influence people. Jesus came to influence his people, the Jews, and the Gentiles to rethink the whole idea of neighbor. It was, perhaps, the centerpiece of his larger mission to restore all creation. It's a lesson that was unpopular then and still is. Everyone wants to co-opt Jesus for their own agendas, especially determining who is in and who is out and who is beyond the reach of the kingdom. Jesus' dramatic story leaves us with an unsettling truth. The very one that we think is persona non grata in God's kingdom (or anyone else's) may be the very one who comes along and helps us up from our ditch of discrimination and leads us to wholeness of heart.
Who are the Samaritans in our lives? Are we willing to let Jesus' story sink in deeply and do some redemptive work? (sigh)
Blessings,
Larry
On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
“What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”
He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”
“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”
But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”
In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’
“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”
The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”
Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:25-37 NIV)
One of my favorite professors from my time at Candler School of Theology is Dr. William Mallard. He is frighteningly intelligent and disarmingly charming. He can, seemingly without effort, bring a disturbing or confusing passage of Scripture to life and make you think you had it figured out all along while at the same time causing you rethink your conclusions. I'll never forget the day he lectured (preached, really) on this passage. It's so familiar to many that we can miss new understanding because we think we have it figured out.
He presented the story as a one-man drama. The setting was a synagogue where Jesus would go to study and discuss the Scriptures, often with a contingent of disciples in tow. On this particular occasion a lawyer (Dr. Mallard's words) confronts Jesus, most likely in an attempt to make him look bad in front of the community and blunt his sharply increasing popularity. When he asks a loaded question Jesus turns it on him and asks what he thinks. The disciples are standing behind Jesus wondering how this will turn out (no doubt remembering the first time he spoke in a Synagogue and made the people so mad they tried to throw him off a cliff).
The lawyer immediately recites the Shema Yisrael which is Deuteronomy 6:4-5 and happens to be the first passage of Scripture little Hebrew children learn. At this the disciples are a little tense knowing that he answered well. But Jesus essentially pats him on the head and says, "Good boy, you remember," which was more than a little humiliating for the lawyer. The disciples are all high-fiving each other and giving Jesus lots of "attaboys."
Feeling a flush of embarrassment the lawyer looks to save face so he asks Jesus, "Who is my neighbor," hoping to lure him into an answer that would make him look bad. To answer, Jesus does what Jesus does best. He tells a story. He has everyone in the room in the palm of his hand as he spins the tale about a hapless traveler on a dangerous road. When Jesus says that the priest, a religious professional often unpopular with the masses, walks right past without helping, the disciples are grinning and elbowing each other, watching the priest who would have been present for the service churn with anger.
Then when Jesus suggests that a Levite, an often even more widely despised, higher order of priest, walks by without helping the victim the disciples are chest-bumping each other and slapping Jesus on the back. "You tell 'em, Jesus (woot woot)."
Then, disaster strikes. Jesus begins to describe the hero of the story, and he's a...a...a...Samaritan? "Jesus," they think or maybe whisper, "Are you crazy? Really, a Samaritan? What were you thinking? You had the religious elites on the ropes and the crowd ready to crown you king. Now...we may be lucky to get out of here alive." The disciples slip Jesus out a side door and head for a bookstore to find of copy of "How to Win Friends and Influence People."
But Jesus didn't come to win friends and he certainly didn't need to learn how to influence people. Jesus came to influence his people, the Jews, and the Gentiles to rethink the whole idea of neighbor. It was, perhaps, the centerpiece of his larger mission to restore all creation. It's a lesson that was unpopular then and still is. Everyone wants to co-opt Jesus for their own agendas, especially determining who is in and who is out and who is beyond the reach of the kingdom. Jesus' dramatic story leaves us with an unsettling truth. The very one that we think is persona non grata in God's kingdom (or anyone else's) may be the very one who comes along and helps us up from our ditch of discrimination and leads us to wholeness of heart.
Who are the Samaritans in our lives? Are we willing to let Jesus' story sink in deeply and do some redemptive work? (sigh)
Blessings,
Larry
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