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
Thursday, February 28, 2013
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
Monday, February 18, 2013
A Little Help From Our Friends
"After this The Lord appointed seventy-two others and sent them two by two ahead of him to every town and place he was about to go." (Luke 10:1 NIV)
"After this..." After what? A good place to begin an examination of a passage is to stop and look ahead and behind. In this case if we look behind we see conflict among Jesus' still naive followers. John and another (probably James) had been arguing about which one was the greatest. In the next scene, perhaps in an effort to prove their worth and gain an advantage over the others, John and James volunteer to wipe out an entire village for failing to show what they deemed was a proper level of respect and hospitality. And, of course, they were those redneck Samaritans--most likely the real reason they wanted to burn them out.
There are numerous interpretations for the above verse and the mission it announces.Missionaries (and we all are missionaries) should be good guests. Missionaries should speak the truth in love and not berate folks for not accepting it. Missionaries should leave the success/failure evaluation of the mission to God. But for me, today at least, I can't get past the fact that Jesus sent them out two by two. If they had each gone to a different village Jesus could have double the coverage--perhaps twice the harvest yielded by the mission.
But the people in the surrounding towns weren't the only people Jesus was trying to reach. His followers needed to learn that the mission was God's, not theirs. Given John and James' propensity to make it all about them, the disciples needed a little accountability. By going in twos they could remind each other about Jesus' rebuke for bad attitude toward Samaritans. They also needed to learn to work together. Jesus' band of followers would include fishermen, tax collectors, physicians, religious zealots, and who knows what else. Jesus wanted them to present a sign of the coming kingdom, not reflect the dysfunctional world he came to renew.
When I went to Sudan in in 2009 I remember feeling very intimidated at the first team meeting because I didn't really know any of the other team members My insecurity in a group of unfamiliar people caused me to immediately start forming opinions about them, most of which proved to be way off the mark. (I have since repented of my neurotic judgments.) Though some of us still don't have a lot in common, we learned to love and respect each other through our common bond as followers of Jesus and our shared commitment to the mission.
Are you actively involved with others in Jesus' mission to transform the world? When was the last time any of us did something for Jesus along side someone we hardly know, if at all? Following Jesus is not intended to be an individual endeavor. We need the accountability (a very Wesleyan notion). We also need encouragement and occasional correction. Perhaps we could enrich our Lenten journey by walking a while with someone we don't really know. And don't worry if you're not sure how it will turn out. Just relax and enjoy the walk. God will determine the outcome.
Blessings,
Larry
"After this..." After what? A good place to begin an examination of a passage is to stop and look ahead and behind. In this case if we look behind we see conflict among Jesus' still naive followers. John and another (probably James) had been arguing about which one was the greatest. In the next scene, perhaps in an effort to prove their worth and gain an advantage over the others, John and James volunteer to wipe out an entire village for failing to show what they deemed was a proper level of respect and hospitality. And, of course, they were those redneck Samaritans--most likely the real reason they wanted to burn them out.
There are numerous interpretations for the above verse and the mission it announces.Missionaries (and we all are missionaries) should be good guests. Missionaries should speak the truth in love and not berate folks for not accepting it. Missionaries should leave the success/failure evaluation of the mission to God. But for me, today at least, I can't get past the fact that Jesus sent them out two by two. If they had each gone to a different village Jesus could have double the coverage--perhaps twice the harvest yielded by the mission.
But the people in the surrounding towns weren't the only people Jesus was trying to reach. His followers needed to learn that the mission was God's, not theirs. Given John and James' propensity to make it all about them, the disciples needed a little accountability. By going in twos they could remind each other about Jesus' rebuke for bad attitude toward Samaritans. They also needed to learn to work together. Jesus' band of followers would include fishermen, tax collectors, physicians, religious zealots, and who knows what else. Jesus wanted them to present a sign of the coming kingdom, not reflect the dysfunctional world he came to renew.
When I went to Sudan in in 2009 I remember feeling very intimidated at the first team meeting because I didn't really know any of the other team members My insecurity in a group of unfamiliar people caused me to immediately start forming opinions about them, most of which proved to be way off the mark. (I have since repented of my neurotic judgments.) Though some of us still don't have a lot in common, we learned to love and respect each other through our common bond as followers of Jesus and our shared commitment to the mission.
Are you actively involved with others in Jesus' mission to transform the world? When was the last time any of us did something for Jesus along side someone we hardly know, if at all? Following Jesus is not intended to be an individual endeavor. We need the accountability (a very Wesleyan notion). We also need encouragement and occasional correction. Perhaps we could enrich our Lenten journey by walking a while with someone we don't really know. And don't worry if you're not sure how it will turn out. Just relax and enjoy the walk. God will determine the outcome.
Blessings,
Larry
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Is It Worth It?
57 As they were walking along the road, a man said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.”
58 Jesus replied, “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.” 59 He said to another man, “Follow me.” But he replied, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” 60 Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” 61 Still another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but first let me go back and say goodbye to my family.” 62 Jesus replied, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.” (Luke 9:57-62 NIV, biblegateway.com)
Everyone who wants to have children will, at some point, come to this crossroad. It's a meandering thought process that goes something like this. We really want a child, but children are expensive. There will be new, ongoing medical expenses. How much is our deductible? We'll need to equip and decorate a nursery. (Thoughts come faster about here) Food, diapers, clothes,
childcare, school supplies, backpack, more clothes, lunch money, piano lessons, soccer uniform (more medical expenses), dance class, karate (even more medical expenses), money for field trips, more clothes, prom dress/tux, (frantic thoughts impossible to stop) college tuition (accepted to Harvard!? why yes, honey, that's...won...der...[gulp]...ful...), wedding, money to spoil the grand-kids (!!!). Then the inevitable question flies out of our mouth before we can stop it, "Can we afford it?"That is the question that is bubbling under the passage. Compared with what's coming it's been a pony ride so far for Jesus' followers. Miraculous healings, fabulous teaching, and growing crowds are creating an intoxicating buzz of celebrity for the disciples. (See Barney Fife Syndrome) When the man said, "I will follow you wherever you go," Jesus might have been thinking, "Sure, up to this point." But the man couldn't see the jealous religious leaders, the angry crowds, and the cross that were looming just beyond the horizon that was creeping closer and closer.
This is the first of two occasions when Jesus breaks out the calculator and presents the crowd with a subtotal of what it will cost to follow him all the way. What about when the needs of family and friends press? What about when your family and friends start questioning your thinking? Will you still follow when there is no place to sleep, no place to turn? It wasn't that Jesus wasn't concerned about their families. It's just that the kingdom would have to come first. Later he would be even more direct when he says unless you hate your mother and father you can't follow me. It's not likely he would abrogate the Fifth Commandment considering that he wrote it. But, he knows that if they put him and the kingdom first, they will be able to more rightly and fully love family and friends.
But they were just going to have to trust him on this one. The time would come when the resurrection would prove that everything he said about giving all creation, including them, a makeover was true. Any cost incurred along the way would be absorbed into the price Jesus would pay to bring the plan to fruition. Only then would humankind be able to begin to imagine the incalculable love of God for his children.
It's impossible to accurately answer the question of whether we can afford children until we have looked into their squinting, moments-old eyes and see the reflection of God's eternal love shining back. It's impossible to calculate the cost of following Jesus without looking deeply into his eternal love as it is reflected in the cross. But once we do, we realize there truly is no place else to turn, and we're all in.
Blessings.
Larry
Friday, February 15, 2013
Barney Fife Syndrome
52And he sent messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to make ready for him; 53but they did not receive him, because his face was set towards Jerusalem. 54When his disciples James and John saw it, they said, ‘Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?’ 55But he turned and rebuked them. 56Then they went on to another village. (Luke 9:52-56 NIV)
I realize that an Andy Griffith Show reference is dicey 50-plus years removed from its initial run. But, for the purposes of this post, my hope is that cable TV is making it fresh for subsequent generations. Having said that, I couldn't help but think of Barney and his bullet as I considered the two disciples and their request to napalm a Samaritan village because the residents reacted to Jesus out of hundreds of years of tradition. It's unfortunate that hatred becomes institutionalized in religious and cultural traditions, but it is sadly so. Blood is still being spilled and lives are lived in oppressive fear and limitation because people operate out of a centuries-old sense of authorization to hate certain groups because, doggone it, that's what we do, it's what we've always done.
What's interesting is that Jesus' disciples were responding out of the same sense of religious and cultural authorization, only they were coming from the other side of the barbed wire. Jews and Samaritans hated each other, mostly because each group continued to drag suitcases and steamer trunks full of musty ill-will through each successive generation. The problem is that Jesus had come to pry this destructive baggage out of clinched fists and suggest that hatred doesn't have to be the motivating factor in relationships, either personal or communal. But the disciples apparently had been sleeping the day he preached about loving our enemies and not judging others (Luke 6:27-42). Perhaps they did hear the part about "authority" and shaking the dust off their sandals in unwelcoming villages when Jesus sent them on their first mission trip. But you can't separate the two teachings. Love is the primary principle, the first identifying mark of Jesus follower.
What is really telling about this is the fact that just before they came to the village some disciples had been arguing about who would be the greatest among them. All the attention Jesus was receiving was infecting them with a case of swollen sense of self. John is mentioned explicitly, but Peter and James are placed at the scene only a few verses earlier. I'm thinking that James and John, who are identified in the passage, may have been thinking about their "bullet" and feeling pretty full of themselves. I can just see Barney patting his gun as he goes off on one of his patented rants about how law violators would not be tolerated in Mayberry. James and John may have been thinking about the story in 1 Kings 18 when Elijah intimidated Ahab by calling down fire during a duel with Ahab's prophets. I can also see James and John sticking out their chests and saying, "Hey Jesus, do you want us to go Elijah on them? heheheh."
Now, here's the part we don't want to hear. How many times have we done the same thing? We see people who come from different religious or cultural traditions, feel threatened, start judging, we menacingly pat the Jesus we keep in our pocket, and call for air support from heaven. We take out our bullet and take aim for anyone or anything that threatens our sense of authority. To be sure it's not that we have to simply go along with everyone we meet and overlook things we don't agree with. I don't think Jesus rebuked the disciples because they were hurt that the Samaritan village had rejected them. Jesus was upset that they wanted to retaliate.
We bump into people every day who scare us, confuse us, infuriate us. I think Jesus would like for us to be sure we don't have the same effect on them. We are not authorized to pull a hate bullet out of our pocket and load up with fiery speech and actions. We are authorized to pull a love arrow out of our quivering heart and aim for theirs.
That's what I'm thinking. What about you?
Blessings,
Larry
I realize that an Andy Griffith Show reference is dicey 50-plus years removed from its initial run. But, for the purposes of this post, my hope is that cable TV is making it fresh for subsequent generations. Having said that, I couldn't help but think of Barney and his bullet as I considered the two disciples and their request to napalm a Samaritan village because the residents reacted to Jesus out of hundreds of years of tradition. It's unfortunate that hatred becomes institutionalized in religious and cultural traditions, but it is sadly so. Blood is still being spilled and lives are lived in oppressive fear and limitation because people operate out of a centuries-old sense of authorization to hate certain groups because, doggone it, that's what we do, it's what we've always done.
What's interesting is that Jesus' disciples were responding out of the same sense of religious and cultural authorization, only they were coming from the other side of the barbed wire. Jews and Samaritans hated each other, mostly because each group continued to drag suitcases and steamer trunks full of musty ill-will through each successive generation. The problem is that Jesus had come to pry this destructive baggage out of clinched fists and suggest that hatred doesn't have to be the motivating factor in relationships, either personal or communal. But the disciples apparently had been sleeping the day he preached about loving our enemies and not judging others (Luke 6:27-42). Perhaps they did hear the part about "authority" and shaking the dust off their sandals in unwelcoming villages when Jesus sent them on their first mission trip. But you can't separate the two teachings. Love is the primary principle, the first identifying mark of Jesus follower.
What is really telling about this is the fact that just before they came to the village some disciples had been arguing about who would be the greatest among them. All the attention Jesus was receiving was infecting them with a case of swollen sense of self. John is mentioned explicitly, but Peter and James are placed at the scene only a few verses earlier. I'm thinking that James and John, who are identified in the passage, may have been thinking about their "bullet" and feeling pretty full of themselves. I can just see Barney patting his gun as he goes off on one of his patented rants about how law violators would not be tolerated in Mayberry. James and John may have been thinking about the story in 1 Kings 18 when Elijah intimidated Ahab by calling down fire during a duel with Ahab's prophets. I can also see James and John sticking out their chests and saying, "Hey Jesus, do you want us to go Elijah on them? heheheh."
Now, here's the part we don't want to hear. How many times have we done the same thing? We see people who come from different religious or cultural traditions, feel threatened, start judging, we menacingly pat the Jesus we keep in our pocket, and call for air support from heaven. We take out our bullet and take aim for anyone or anything that threatens our sense of authority. To be sure it's not that we have to simply go along with everyone we meet and overlook things we don't agree with. I don't think Jesus rebuked the disciples because they were hurt that the Samaritan village had rejected them. Jesus was upset that they wanted to retaliate.
We bump into people every day who scare us, confuse us, infuriate us. I think Jesus would like for us to be sure we don't have the same effect on them. We are not authorized to pull a hate bullet out of our pocket and load up with fiery speech and actions. We are authorized to pull a love arrow out of our quivering heart and aim for theirs.
That's what I'm thinking. What about you?
Blessings,
Larry
Thursday, February 14, 2013
High Definition Christians
"As the time approached for him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem." (Luke 9:51 NIV)
For me, "resolutely" is the key word in this pivotal (in a literal sense) moment in Luke's account of Jesus' life. The mission to reveal "the Father," implicated in Luke 10:22, had turned a corner. Up to this point Jesus had revealed numerous dimensions of God's character as he passionately preached about kingdom values such as forgiveness and justice, and compassionately healed broken bodies, fractured relationships, and tortured spirits. Now, he resolutely steps out on the last leg of a journey that will end at a cross where the depth of the Father's love will be revealed in a vivid image of sacrifice.
"Resolutely" comes from "resolve" which means, among other things, "to come to a definite or earnest decision..." according to Dictionary.com. Jesus had made an earnest decision to see the mission through to its ultimate conclusion. But consider this. "Resolution" also comes from "resolve" and has interesting implications for our 21st century sensibilities. In this digital age resolution has a new meaning: the amount of detail from an original image that is captured and stored in a copy of the image. If our TVs and smartphones aren't HD, we look the other way because higher resolution means a clearer, more realistic copy of the original image. We demand it.
Jesus came to offer a uniquely perfect, high resolution image of the Father that would be seen in its highest and purest rendering on the cross. While you and I are not called to the type of sacrifice Jesus accepted, perhaps our lives could become higher resolution images of the Father as we follow Jesus daily. Maybe we could resolve to put more pixels in the picture of Jesus that, hopefully, appears when people look at how we live our lives. Could we be bold enough to demand HD from the image of Jesus our lives represent? May we pray daily to offer a world that is often gray and blurry a more colorful, higher resolution image of Jesus' compassionate and unconditional love.
For me, "resolutely" is the key word in this pivotal (in a literal sense) moment in Luke's account of Jesus' life. The mission to reveal "the Father," implicated in Luke 10:22, had turned a corner. Up to this point Jesus had revealed numerous dimensions of God's character as he passionately preached about kingdom values such as forgiveness and justice, and compassionately healed broken bodies, fractured relationships, and tortured spirits. Now, he resolutely steps out on the last leg of a journey that will end at a cross where the depth of the Father's love will be revealed in a vivid image of sacrifice.
"Resolutely" comes from "resolve" which means, among other things, "to come to a definite or earnest decision..." according to Dictionary.com. Jesus had made an earnest decision to see the mission through to its ultimate conclusion. But consider this. "Resolution" also comes from "resolve" and has interesting implications for our 21st century sensibilities. In this digital age resolution has a new meaning: the amount of detail from an original image that is captured and stored in a copy of the image. If our TVs and smartphones aren't HD, we look the other way because higher resolution means a clearer, more realistic copy of the original image. We demand it.
Jesus came to offer a uniquely perfect, high resolution image of the Father that would be seen in its highest and purest rendering on the cross. While you and I are not called to the type of sacrifice Jesus accepted, perhaps our lives could become higher resolution images of the Father as we follow Jesus daily. Maybe we could resolve to put more pixels in the picture of Jesus that, hopefully, appears when people look at how we live our lives. Could we be bold enough to demand HD from the image of Jesus our lives represent? May we pray daily to offer a world that is often gray and blurry a more colorful, higher resolution image of Jesus' compassionate and unconditional love.
Blessings,
Larry
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
First Steps
(Deep breath...okay...I've got this...here we go...)
I have avoided participating in the blogosphere, at least as a blogger, for several reasons. One, I know me. To blog with any consistency requires discipline and some degree of planning, neither of which are necessarily native to my nature. Two, blogging runs the risk of appearing with a blush, if not a downright luminescent paint job, of arrogance. Do my thoughts really merit space on someones server sealed with a permalink? And third, blogging invites criticism and I am fragile to a fault. The idea of tossing up an idea like a sunny yellow balloon only to have cold-hearted cynics with pellet guns trying to bring it down is not appealing.
That said, I'm taking the plunge for a specific reason. I do a daily (well, almost) devotional at breakfast. Eating a bowl of something that looks more like coarse mulch than cereal I peruse some Scripture and try to spend a few minutes thinking about what difference the ancient words might have on my present situation. Rarely does the sun set without some degree of scriptural relevance finding experiential residence somewhere in my day. Sometimes I wonder if other people might make similar connections that could cast a beam of light into a darkened corner.
So here's what I'm thinking. I could toss out a Scripture and an angle for reflection and then anyone who wants to could beam back a reflection that we could all see. Think of it as an informal Bible study at Starbuck's only you can make our own coffee and save $5 and stay in your pajamas.
To get started I thought we would play off our Lenten sermon series "On the Way to the Cross" and take a series of daily "Detours." (clever, right?) We will use Luke's gospel because it has that wonderfully profound moment in Chapter Nine when it says, "...Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem." It was the beginning of his last journey to Jerusalem and includes some dramatic detours that hold rich treasures for those willing to stop and check out the scenery.
For easy access I'll post links on Facebook and Twitter that will take you directly to the blog. All you need to do is sign into the blog and you can post your reflections and questions which we'll consider as a group. Of course, you can also just read the blog and comments without posting. It's up to you.
The first post will be tomorrow morning. I hope this will be enriching for all of us as we consider Jesus' love and sacrifice, and all the implications they have for our world.
Blessings,
Larry
I have avoided participating in the blogosphere, at least as a blogger, for several reasons. One, I know me. To blog with any consistency requires discipline and some degree of planning, neither of which are necessarily native to my nature. Two, blogging runs the risk of appearing with a blush, if not a downright luminescent paint job, of arrogance. Do my thoughts really merit space on someones server sealed with a permalink? And third, blogging invites criticism and I am fragile to a fault. The idea of tossing up an idea like a sunny yellow balloon only to have cold-hearted cynics with pellet guns trying to bring it down is not appealing.
That said, I'm taking the plunge for a specific reason. I do a daily (well, almost) devotional at breakfast. Eating a bowl of something that looks more like coarse mulch than cereal I peruse some Scripture and try to spend a few minutes thinking about what difference the ancient words might have on my present situation. Rarely does the sun set without some degree of scriptural relevance finding experiential residence somewhere in my day. Sometimes I wonder if other people might make similar connections that could cast a beam of light into a darkened corner.
So here's what I'm thinking. I could toss out a Scripture and an angle for reflection and then anyone who wants to could beam back a reflection that we could all see. Think of it as an informal Bible study at Starbuck's only you can make our own coffee and save $5 and stay in your pajamas.
To get started I thought we would play off our Lenten sermon series "On the Way to the Cross" and take a series of daily "Detours." (clever, right?) We will use Luke's gospel because it has that wonderfully profound moment in Chapter Nine when it says, "...Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem." It was the beginning of his last journey to Jerusalem and includes some dramatic detours that hold rich treasures for those willing to stop and check out the scenery.
For easy access I'll post links on Facebook and Twitter that will take you directly to the blog. All you need to do is sign into the blog and you can post your reflections and questions which we'll consider as a group. Of course, you can also just read the blog and comments without posting. It's up to you.
The first post will be tomorrow morning. I hope this will be enriching for all of us as we consider Jesus' love and sacrifice, and all the implications they have for our world.
Blessings,
Larry
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