Isaiah 51:1-8 is, among other things, a glorious announcement of God’s future salvation. It doesn’t get much better than the words of verse three: “For the Lord will comfort Zion; he will comfort all her waste places, and will make her wilderness like Eden, her desert like the garden of the Lord; joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the voice of song.” (NRSV)
In a bold reminder to remember where they have come from, which is how the chapter begins, Isaiah includes the only reference to Sarah outside the Genesis narrative. In the NRSV verse two begins like this, “Look to Abraham your father and to Sarah who bore you.” The NASB translates the verse “Look to Abraham your father and to Sarah who gave birth to you in pain.”
Obviously there would have been no Isaac without Sarah! If the rest of the Abraham narrative is taken to heart, it seems to me that the real miracle of Isaac’s birth was performed on Sarah, not Abraham. After all, he was able to have children with other women. But Sarah seems to have been lost in the story in terms of memory. Abraham’s name is mentioned 41 times in the Hebrew Bible outside of the Genesis narrative; Sarah’s once!
I would love to be able to ask Isaiah what caused him to mention Sarah this one time. Not to suggest that the Bible has some sort of unfortunate sexist agenda, nor that I have failed to understand the patriarchal nature of the culture in which the Hebrew Bible was written. Counting the number of times a word/name appears does not necessarily speak to the value of Abraham over Sarah.
But, with Mother’s Day approaching this weekend, I am drawn to that Isaiah phrase, “look to Sarah who bore you.” Or, in the more literal language of the NASB, “who gave birth to you in pain.” For those of us blessed with godly and loving mothers, it is pretty good advice to be reminded of the importance of our mothers. Having been blessed with both a godly father and mother – were my father still living, he would be concerned about me if I didn’t “remember my mother who gave birth to me in pain.”
That makes me think about stories I’ve heard about my birth. My mother is barely five feet tall and probably weighed 100 pounds when my life began. When I was born, I weighed ten pounds and 13 ounces. Apparently, Caesarean births weren’t all that available in the little county hospital in which I was born, and I came into this world with a broken right arm. I don’t remember a thing about that day just over 60 years ago, but I’m guessing my mother does. Had she not been the godly mother she was, I think I would still owe her some respect!
Having watched my own wife be a godly mother to my two daughters, I’ve often thought about the incredibly difficult task of being a mother. I’ve thought about the spiritual formation that goes on, so very often, on the lap of godly mothers. I’ve thought a lot about the protection and care, the efforts to keep Dad under control, and the whole list of “stuff” that comes with motherhood.
“Look to Sarah who bore you” is right there in Isaiah. Whatever Isaiah’s intent for Israel to think when they read those words, they will forever remind me not to forget that were it not for my own mother, I wouldn’t be here and wouldn’t be the person I am! And were it not for my wife, the mother of my two daughters, they wouldn’t be here and wouldn’t be the fine young women they are.
The word for today: don’t forget your mother! Or the mother of your children!
06 May 2011
03 May 2011
Us and Them
In his wonderful book, Simply Christian, N.T. Wright suggests that one of the “echoes of a voice” that perhaps speaks to the existence of God is the echo we hear and call justice. It just doesn’t seem to feel as though things are “right” and that sense of “not right” is the echo of the voice of justice. In one of the more convicting parts of that chapter, Wright notes how easy it is to adopt and kind of “us and them” approach to justice. For me, that can easily come out as seeing “us” as more just and “them” as less just, if just at all. Wright brings the lens of our observation in to extraordinarily clear focus when he notes that the line between justice and injustice runs right through our own hearts.
Ouch! Not sure I wanted to be reminded of that, especially at a point in time when the cries “justice has been done” inundate the news. That’s not to suggest that bin Laden and the average American are equally unjust – just wanting to be careful not to fail to look in the proverbial mirror, even if dimly.
The first time I realized how sensitive of an issue this could be was in the first course I taught as a college professor. It was an ethics class and the topic that week was war, violence, and the Christian point of view about such subjects. In was the fall of 1976 and merely saying the word Viet Nam poked at nerves that were still prickly and very sensitive. Of course one of the students asked about those who dodged the draft and went to Canada. I felt a little sensitive to the question for a number of reasons; among them was the fact that as a college student studying for ministry I had an exemption from the draft, despite having a draft lottery number in the teens. All I said in answer that question was that knowing what we knew at that point in time, I thought we should be very careful in not being too critical of those who practiced a kind of civil disobedience our Constitution allows.
I thought that was a pretty reasonable response to the question, especially in view of the fact that the class was made up of college seniors at a school focused on preparing men and women for ministry. Most of the males in that class had the same selective service exemption I did. How naïve. There was one student in the class who had served in Viet Nam, and he took serious exception to my statement. While I still thought (and still think) my statement was reasonable, I easily understood his objection. What I didn’t understand (and still don’t) is how many of the males in the class were offended. Apparently the obviously failed “us and them” of the crisis in Southeast Asia was now transferred to those who chose to go to Canada instead of enrolling in a college preparing men for ministry.
So, here I go again with some more naivety. While I understand the sense of “justice has been done” with the death of the one who may be the Hitler of our age, I’m not too sure that it is quite that simple. Some very bright and committed Christians would argue, using Scripture to support their conclusions, that capital punishment is a just response to awful crimes and that there is such a thing as a just war. Other equally bright and committed Christians would argue just as passionately that neither capital punishment nor any war is consistent with the kind of life Jesus calls us to live. I can hardly blog an answer to that debate!
However, it wouldn’t hurt a single one of us to think a little about the back story that produced bin Laden and those of his ilk of humanity. That doesn’t mean that back story gives excuse for bad behavior, but it can at least help us understand it better.
Not trying to pretend to be an historian, it nevertheless seems to me that the resettlement of Israel with Jewish people from Europe and Central Asia was, at least to some degree, an effort to provide a little ointment for otherwise seared consciences of bad Western European leaders. There is no debate that the treatment of Jews at the hand and leadership of Adolf Hitler will forever be a blight on human nature. But do we really think that the abysmal treatment of Palestinians at the hands of western leaders and Jewish settlers is the way to solve that injustice? Two wrongs never add up to one right.
As a southern boy who grew up on a farm and in a culture where “land” was in the category of nearly sacred, I can’t imagine what my reaction – and even more so of those with whom I grew up and who still live on that sacred land – would be should there be some international settlement effort to re-populate the lands my family has owned for centuries with the native Americans who once thought they were theirs. That might make relatively peaceful Huxford a terrorist.
Western political support for a mostly secular Jewish state at the expense of Palestinians in general and Palestinian Christians in particular has not helped with the “us and them” issues of geopolitical conflicts. In fact, it has exasperated the problem to the point that it is relatively easy for the bin Ladens of the world to manipulate frustration into abject hatred of the west. Does that make it acceptable that bin Laden was the mastermind behind the murder or 3000+ people who did nothing personally to him or Palestinians? Of course not. No sane person would suggest that it does.
But it might mean that the desire of some to celebrate the death of an evil man should be tempered by the realization that it hasn’t solved the problem that made it possible for bin Laden to become the depraved individual he was. The false hope that the politicians of the world offer us with bin Laden’s death at best fit in the category of wishful thinking, unless those promises of hope are accompanied by a commitment to solve the chronic problems of the Middle East. That means, in real terms, dealing with the problem of Jewish settlements in land Palestinians once lived upon, among other rather serious challenges.
Who among us isn’t happy that bin Laden can no longer mastermind mass murder? But I hope an equal number of us are unhappy that the geo-political issues of the last half of the twentieth century and in this first decade of the twenty-first century pretty much assured bin Laden of never seeing what Jesus is really like. Those same policies have made it extraordinarily difficult to be a Christian in the land in which our faith was first preached – without regard to gender, geography, or groups. God is no respecter of persons! But our politics have made it appear that He is.
N.T. Wright is exactly on target – the line is not an “us and them” line – it runs right through our own hearts.
Ouch! Not sure I wanted to be reminded of that, especially at a point in time when the cries “justice has been done” inundate the news. That’s not to suggest that bin Laden and the average American are equally unjust – just wanting to be careful not to fail to look in the proverbial mirror, even if dimly.
The first time I realized how sensitive of an issue this could be was in the first course I taught as a college professor. It was an ethics class and the topic that week was war, violence, and the Christian point of view about such subjects. In was the fall of 1976 and merely saying the word Viet Nam poked at nerves that were still prickly and very sensitive. Of course one of the students asked about those who dodged the draft and went to Canada. I felt a little sensitive to the question for a number of reasons; among them was the fact that as a college student studying for ministry I had an exemption from the draft, despite having a draft lottery number in the teens. All I said in answer that question was that knowing what we knew at that point in time, I thought we should be very careful in not being too critical of those who practiced a kind of civil disobedience our Constitution allows.
I thought that was a pretty reasonable response to the question, especially in view of the fact that the class was made up of college seniors at a school focused on preparing men and women for ministry. Most of the males in that class had the same selective service exemption I did. How naïve. There was one student in the class who had served in Viet Nam, and he took serious exception to my statement. While I still thought (and still think) my statement was reasonable, I easily understood his objection. What I didn’t understand (and still don’t) is how many of the males in the class were offended. Apparently the obviously failed “us and them” of the crisis in Southeast Asia was now transferred to those who chose to go to Canada instead of enrolling in a college preparing men for ministry.
So, here I go again with some more naivety. While I understand the sense of “justice has been done” with the death of the one who may be the Hitler of our age, I’m not too sure that it is quite that simple. Some very bright and committed Christians would argue, using Scripture to support their conclusions, that capital punishment is a just response to awful crimes and that there is such a thing as a just war. Other equally bright and committed Christians would argue just as passionately that neither capital punishment nor any war is consistent with the kind of life Jesus calls us to live. I can hardly blog an answer to that debate!
However, it wouldn’t hurt a single one of us to think a little about the back story that produced bin Laden and those of his ilk of humanity. That doesn’t mean that back story gives excuse for bad behavior, but it can at least help us understand it better.
Not trying to pretend to be an historian, it nevertheless seems to me that the resettlement of Israel with Jewish people from Europe and Central Asia was, at least to some degree, an effort to provide a little ointment for otherwise seared consciences of bad Western European leaders. There is no debate that the treatment of Jews at the hand and leadership of Adolf Hitler will forever be a blight on human nature. But do we really think that the abysmal treatment of Palestinians at the hands of western leaders and Jewish settlers is the way to solve that injustice? Two wrongs never add up to one right.
As a southern boy who grew up on a farm and in a culture where “land” was in the category of nearly sacred, I can’t imagine what my reaction – and even more so of those with whom I grew up and who still live on that sacred land – would be should there be some international settlement effort to re-populate the lands my family has owned for centuries with the native Americans who once thought they were theirs. That might make relatively peaceful Huxford a terrorist.
Western political support for a mostly secular Jewish state at the expense of Palestinians in general and Palestinian Christians in particular has not helped with the “us and them” issues of geopolitical conflicts. In fact, it has exasperated the problem to the point that it is relatively easy for the bin Ladens of the world to manipulate frustration into abject hatred of the west. Does that make it acceptable that bin Laden was the mastermind behind the murder or 3000+ people who did nothing personally to him or Palestinians? Of course not. No sane person would suggest that it does.
But it might mean that the desire of some to celebrate the death of an evil man should be tempered by the realization that it hasn’t solved the problem that made it possible for bin Laden to become the depraved individual he was. The false hope that the politicians of the world offer us with bin Laden’s death at best fit in the category of wishful thinking, unless those promises of hope are accompanied by a commitment to solve the chronic problems of the Middle East. That means, in real terms, dealing with the problem of Jewish settlements in land Palestinians once lived upon, among other rather serious challenges.
Who among us isn’t happy that bin Laden can no longer mastermind mass murder? But I hope an equal number of us are unhappy that the geo-political issues of the last half of the twentieth century and in this first decade of the twenty-first century pretty much assured bin Laden of never seeing what Jesus is really like. Those same policies have made it extraordinarily difficult to be a Christian in the land in which our faith was first preached – without regard to gender, geography, or groups. God is no respecter of persons! But our politics have made it appear that He is.
N.T. Wright is exactly on target – the line is not an “us and them” line – it runs right through our own hearts.
27 April 2011
The Breaking of Bread
My favorite resurrection story is Luke’s telling of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. The story begins with the two disciples “talking with each other about all these things that had happened” (Luke 24:14) and ends with their telling the disciples “how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.” (Luke 24:35) Between those two markers, an amazing story of defeat and despair morphs into the joy of knowing that the Lord has been raised!
One of the things in the story – in addition to the obvious joy of Jesus’ resurrection – that draws my attention and makes it a favorite is the phrase “the breaking of the bread.” Even more intriguing, in the earliest description of the Kingdom of God after Pentecost (Acts 2:42), Luke uses the same language as one of his descriptors of what life in the earliest, early church looked like. If you know the text, “they devoted themselves to . . . the breaking of bread . . .” And just a few verses later, again using the same vocabulary, Luke tells us “. . . they broke bread at home. . .”
The burning hearts of two sorrowful disciples were renewed and reinvigorated by “the breaking of bread.” Perhaps the “remembering” of “do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19) is more than merely a recollection of a man named Jesus. As Paul would remind the disciples of Christ at Corinth, “as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” (1 Corinthians 11:26) For Luke, Paul’s companion, it was the “breaking of bread” that was the motivation for believers to gather on the first day of the week. (Acts 20:7) Almost incidentally, Luke mentions that Paul preached a rather long sermon on that occasion – but the meeting together was “to break bread.”
Think about that story of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. The yet unidentified, but risen, Jesus began “with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.” (Luke 24:27) That sounds very much like “proclaiming the Lord’s death until he comes.” Their eyes were opened to the risen Christ as together they ate the bread that Luke describes with these words: “When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them.” (Luke 24:30) It is hard to read this story without thinking that it was in “the breaking of the bread” that the veracity of the stories of resurrection was made real.
Having grown up in a tradition of weekly “breaking of the bread,” I do not remember ever thinking that communion (as we called it) was not important. It was so important in my little country church, that it was unheard of to think that grape juice was an appropriate substitute for wine. I remember one discussion of that subject when my grandfather (with the rather authentic sounding Christian Church name of Thomas Campbell Huxford) declared that if they changed to grape juice, my grandmother, who had been washing the glass communion cups for decades, would no longer “fix communion!”
What I am not sure about is whether or not our emphasis on “weekly” has not somehow disrupted the emphasis of the New Testament on the “passion play nature” of the Lord’s Supper. Is it possible that the weekly focus – in some sectors of our Stone-Campbell tradition a test of fellowship – has somehow made us less likely to focus on the reminder that even with Jesus as the teacher, it was in “the breaking of bread” that the two forlorn disciples headed to Emmaus had their eyes opened.
In a class I was teaching last night, a part of our discussion reviewed all the statistics that come out of groups like the Barna Group suggesting that the moral behavior of Christians in western cultures is not particularly distinguishable from non-Christians. Our discussion revolved around the need of good preachers to find ways to make better, more appealing, more compelling application in sermons.
This story makes me wonder. Is a part of our challenge here in the tendency of western Christians – even those of us who insist on “doing communion weekly” – to not pay enough attention to “the breaking of bread?”
I am not sure I know the answer to that question, but I am sure it is a question we ought to think about!
One of the things in the story – in addition to the obvious joy of Jesus’ resurrection – that draws my attention and makes it a favorite is the phrase “the breaking of the bread.” Even more intriguing, in the earliest description of the Kingdom of God after Pentecost (Acts 2:42), Luke uses the same language as one of his descriptors of what life in the earliest, early church looked like. If you know the text, “they devoted themselves to . . . the breaking of bread . . .” And just a few verses later, again using the same vocabulary, Luke tells us “. . . they broke bread at home. . .”
The burning hearts of two sorrowful disciples were renewed and reinvigorated by “the breaking of bread.” Perhaps the “remembering” of “do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19) is more than merely a recollection of a man named Jesus. As Paul would remind the disciples of Christ at Corinth, “as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” (1 Corinthians 11:26) For Luke, Paul’s companion, it was the “breaking of bread” that was the motivation for believers to gather on the first day of the week. (Acts 20:7) Almost incidentally, Luke mentions that Paul preached a rather long sermon on that occasion – but the meeting together was “to break bread.”
Think about that story of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. The yet unidentified, but risen, Jesus began “with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.” (Luke 24:27) That sounds very much like “proclaiming the Lord’s death until he comes.” Their eyes were opened to the risen Christ as together they ate the bread that Luke describes with these words: “When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them.” (Luke 24:30) It is hard to read this story without thinking that it was in “the breaking of the bread” that the veracity of the stories of resurrection was made real.
Having grown up in a tradition of weekly “breaking of the bread,” I do not remember ever thinking that communion (as we called it) was not important. It was so important in my little country church, that it was unheard of to think that grape juice was an appropriate substitute for wine. I remember one discussion of that subject when my grandfather (with the rather authentic sounding Christian Church name of Thomas Campbell Huxford) declared that if they changed to grape juice, my grandmother, who had been washing the glass communion cups for decades, would no longer “fix communion!”
What I am not sure about is whether or not our emphasis on “weekly” has not somehow disrupted the emphasis of the New Testament on the “passion play nature” of the Lord’s Supper. Is it possible that the weekly focus – in some sectors of our Stone-Campbell tradition a test of fellowship – has somehow made us less likely to focus on the reminder that even with Jesus as the teacher, it was in “the breaking of bread” that the two forlorn disciples headed to Emmaus had their eyes opened.
In a class I was teaching last night, a part of our discussion reviewed all the statistics that come out of groups like the Barna Group suggesting that the moral behavior of Christians in western cultures is not particularly distinguishable from non-Christians. Our discussion revolved around the need of good preachers to find ways to make better, more appealing, more compelling application in sermons.
This story makes me wonder. Is a part of our challenge here in the tendency of western Christians – even those of us who insist on “doing communion weekly” – to not pay enough attention to “the breaking of bread?”
I am not sure I know the answer to that question, but I am sure it is a question we ought to think about!
14 April 2011
Who Would Have Thought?
What can I say? If thinking that as a follower of Jesus I should be concerned about the poor, even to the point of being willing to invest my own resources in making a poor person’s life better – if that makes me a socialist – count me in! And while you are counting, don’t forget Jesus.
The uncomfortable reality is that for many of the followers of Jesus in the world of American Christianity, we have far more than we need. I don’t say that in the sense that if you have more than one suit, or you are a two-car family, or you actually own a Kindle and buy books to read, etc. that you are somehow beyond redemption. I’m all of that and more, but will gladly say I follow Jesus. I have friends who whose possessions make mine look meager, and I gladly describe them as followers of Jesus.
But it seems to me that thoughtful Christians will always wonder about not only the more appropriate use of our resources, but also about how we might help alleviate the awful circumstances into which some children are born, grow up, and die. For the sake of eliminating some of the protests I hear, let’s forget about the adults who are lazy, the adults who are criminals, the adults who have babies as single mothers, and all the other road blocks that seem to be placed in the way of helping the poor. Let’s just think about the innocent children who are born in that world and have little or no chance of becoming anything but lazy, criminal, unwed mothers who will repeat the cycle over and over.
What are we doing about them? How can we do something that would make it less likely that such children will grow up in what seems to be the destiny of futility? Only the most casual of glances at statistics will inform us that “once in poverty, always in poverty” is more often than not true. Not unlike “once in prison, always in prison.”
It seems to me worth noting that in the earliest picture of the church in Acts, Luke says things like “there were no needy people among them.” Remember, we aren’t talking about a little country church with 13 people as members, all of whom are cousins. The first number Luke uses is 3000, and that is followed by 2000 – and most likely in both cases he is only counting the men. The preaching of the gospel at Pentecost created a mega-church in one day and their taking seriously the gospel created a community of faith where there were no needy people.
It makes me wonder, especially when you read stories like that of Barnabas at the end of Acts 4, if perhaps they didn’t take that story from Jesus’ life where He tells the rich young ruler to sell all and give to the poor more seriously than we do! Words like “having all things in common,” again found in the earliest picture of the church in Acts, would suggest a kind of commitment to the gospel that saw that story as one to implement.
If suggesting that concern for the poor at a level that makes my resources available makes me a socialist, then what will those people call the apostles and early Christians who managed to create a community of faith in which there were no needy people?
Who would have thought we would become so entrenched in our own capitalist world that to dare call the church out for not caring for the poor as we should might move us to attach pejorative labels to those who call us out? That might be the best reason in the world for us to reject all labels – and simply say, as Luke does so often in Luke, we are simply disciples of Christ.
Whenever it actually happened in American culture, the day we gave the government the responsibility to do the job of the church in caring for the poor was permission to be taxed in ways we now complain about. We can continue to complain – but the only real solution is that we become so committed to being Jesus to the world – the poor included – that the government has nothing to do! We could solve the deficit and lower taxes at the same time!
If being concerned about the poor, even to the point of being willing to invest our own resources in making a poor person’s life better makes you a socialist, then we ought to welcome the term. Of course those who throw it around in such pejorative fashion are most often thinking American politics more than biblical theology. But that’s a blog for another day!
The uncomfortable reality is that for many of the followers of Jesus in the world of American Christianity, we have far more than we need. I don’t say that in the sense that if you have more than one suit, or you are a two-car family, or you actually own a Kindle and buy books to read, etc. that you are somehow beyond redemption. I’m all of that and more, but will gladly say I follow Jesus. I have friends who whose possessions make mine look meager, and I gladly describe them as followers of Jesus.
But it seems to me that thoughtful Christians will always wonder about not only the more appropriate use of our resources, but also about how we might help alleviate the awful circumstances into which some children are born, grow up, and die. For the sake of eliminating some of the protests I hear, let’s forget about the adults who are lazy, the adults who are criminals, the adults who have babies as single mothers, and all the other road blocks that seem to be placed in the way of helping the poor. Let’s just think about the innocent children who are born in that world and have little or no chance of becoming anything but lazy, criminal, unwed mothers who will repeat the cycle over and over.
What are we doing about them? How can we do something that would make it less likely that such children will grow up in what seems to be the destiny of futility? Only the most casual of glances at statistics will inform us that “once in poverty, always in poverty” is more often than not true. Not unlike “once in prison, always in prison.”
It seems to me worth noting that in the earliest picture of the church in Acts, Luke says things like “there were no needy people among them.” Remember, we aren’t talking about a little country church with 13 people as members, all of whom are cousins. The first number Luke uses is 3000, and that is followed by 2000 – and most likely in both cases he is only counting the men. The preaching of the gospel at Pentecost created a mega-church in one day and their taking seriously the gospel created a community of faith where there were no needy people.
It makes me wonder, especially when you read stories like that of Barnabas at the end of Acts 4, if perhaps they didn’t take that story from Jesus’ life where He tells the rich young ruler to sell all and give to the poor more seriously than we do! Words like “having all things in common,” again found in the earliest picture of the church in Acts, would suggest a kind of commitment to the gospel that saw that story as one to implement.
If suggesting that concern for the poor at a level that makes my resources available makes me a socialist, then what will those people call the apostles and early Christians who managed to create a community of faith in which there were no needy people?
Who would have thought we would become so entrenched in our own capitalist world that to dare call the church out for not caring for the poor as we should might move us to attach pejorative labels to those who call us out? That might be the best reason in the world for us to reject all labels – and simply say, as Luke does so often in Luke, we are simply disciples of Christ.
Whenever it actually happened in American culture, the day we gave the government the responsibility to do the job of the church in caring for the poor was permission to be taxed in ways we now complain about. We can continue to complain – but the only real solution is that we become so committed to being Jesus to the world – the poor included – that the government has nothing to do! We could solve the deficit and lower taxes at the same time!
If being concerned about the poor, even to the point of being willing to invest our own resources in making a poor person’s life better makes you a socialist, then we ought to welcome the term. Of course those who throw it around in such pejorative fashion are most often thinking American politics more than biblical theology. But that’s a blog for another day!
Palm Sunday
It all began that week with a simple man, riding a simple donkey, surrounded by simple men. Those men would later be accused of being nothing more than “uneducated and ordinary men.” (Acts 4:13) It was those kinds of people that this supposed King of the Jews chose as His companions on this first day of the week – the beginning of the week that hell itself broke out on earth.
The simple man, of course, was Jesus. So simple that He would say of Himself, “foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” (Matthew 8:20) That statement, all by itself, reminds us that following this simple man requires some simplicity on our part. It actually is said in response to a bold claim of “I will follow you wherever you go.” Are you sure? Perhaps that is the point – we aren’t talking about a path to health and wealth, riches and glory, living the so-called good life.
He came riding on a donkey. A little one at that. What’s going on here – kings rode great horses, sometimes white ones. Kings worked hard to make sure that people understood issues like power and authority, importance and place. Yet riding on a donkey – the foal of a donkey – would have been viewed as anything but that. Yet this simple man, with a simple approach to life, has continued for centuries to change the world. He makes our complex world yearn for His simplicity.
The simple men around Him had a hard time “getting it.” But, once they did, they preached a simple message that declared “this Jesus, whom you crucified, God has made him both Lord and Christ.” (Acts 2:36) When that simple message is proclaimed, change breaks out in ways that are more than amazing and ultimately beyond human explanation.
As the days of Lent grow shorter, and Palm Sunday approaches only to give way to celebrating resurrection, we ought to rejoice that this simple man from Nazareth would ride into the city of God on a donkey, surrounded by a band of simple men. That He would do that – even the simple men thing – is a reminder to me that I’m welcomed as a part of His ongoing parade that has defeated the power of sin and death. Like those simple men, I am invited to be a part of advancing His kingdom. Like them, I do not always understand what it all means – but that doesn’t mean I cannot be a part.
As we worship the man who came to Jerusalem on our behalf this Sunday, may we celebrate the invitation He offers – even to simple men and women of every race, of every place, of every station in life.
08 April 2011
More Than “One More Time”
Yesterday was Spring Ministry Day at Atlanta Christian College. In the Spring Semester, 2007 we began what has become an important part of our process of spiritual formation by closing down the academic program of the College for the day and going out to actually put in to practice the idea that we are called to help advance the Kingdom of God.
Our first Ministry Day was held at City of Refuge (www.cityofrefugeinc.com) in Atlanta. City of Refuge was just moving to 1300 Simpson Road (now Joseph E. Boone) near the heart of the City of Atlanta. The two warehouses were, to put it mildly, a wreck. Our first ministry day included cleaning portions of the warehouses, attacking a hill overrun with kudzu, discarded beer bottles, and just about every other piece of litter imaginable and lots of other grunt work. We did the kind of work you imagine a judge might assign to a criminal for community service!
We have continued to make City of Refuge a part of our ministry day every semester since that first Ministry Day back in 2007. To see what has happened in these five years at City of Refuge is nothing short of amazing. Today those “wrecked warehouses” have transitional housing for about 150 mothers and children, a place where the Mission Church meets for worship, the 180˚ Kitchen – which includes a training program for chefs, a gymnasium and workout area, and the soon to open Medical Clinic which will serve 1500 people a month with primary care. There is also a community resource center where hundreds of people in need are served in the name of Christ. One of our students who participated in our very first ministry day is now a full-time member of the ministry team at City of Refuge and organized our activities yesterday.
The team I worked with yesterday went to the home of a wonderful older couple – Elbert and Dot Sims. We spent our day working in their back yard – cleaning up leaves, trimming overgrown plants, mowing, and other similar tasks that are beyond the ability of this couple, now married 67 years. Mr. Sims insisted that we take a break for Krispy Kreme donuts and Pepsi! He thanked us a million times and every time he did, big tears were rolling down his cheeks. Miss Dot hugged us all as we left, telling us that she couldn’t remember when her back yard looked so good. We didn’t do anything unique or particularly hard – we simply decided that as believers, we would be helpful to this older couple. Watching the ten students I was with work so well together and to be so determined to make this the best looking back yard on that street confirms why I love being with ACC students.
This year we expanded our ministry day to include more opportunities than ever. We were not only at City of Refuge, but a group went to Woodland Christian Camp, another group to God’s Farm, a group to each of the cities of West Point, Valley, and Lanett, and another group worked in the community around the College. If the emails I’ve received and the Facebook comments I’ve seen are any indication, we made an impact – in the name of Christ – in lots of places yesterday. It makes me think that the idea of Point University as a place that points others to Christ is not waiting on the official date of 1 July 2011 for the name change!
I’m so grateful for places like City of Refuge, Woodland, God’s Farm, the three cities we visited, and other places who welcome our students to do ministry. Oddly enough, in my first effort to expand Ministry Day beyond City of Refuge, the first contact I made replied with a “no thanks, it’s too much trouble to plan, we prefer people who will volunteer regularly.”
I know it takes a lot of planning to prepare for volunteers. Yesterday we sent out around 250 volunteers and lots of work went in to making that all happen. Thanks to those ministries who are willing to invest in young adults who want to discover new and exciting ways to be Jesus to the world around them.
Equally odd, City of Refuge has an outstanding member of its staff – Seth Lingenfelter – at least in part because of what he experienced on our very first ministry day there. And lots of students and staff have volunteered over the years – because of what they experience on ministry day opportunities.
Perhaps investing in young adults isn’t such a challenge after all! What I know for sure is that I’m more than willing to do it “more than ‘one more time.’” And so are a lot of other Point University students!
06 April 2011
A Redeeming God
In a brief conversation with a friend recently, I heard the story of how she happened to get to the church she had been a part of for years. The story included an explanation for why she and her husband left one church for another. In short, they left one church because, in her words, “We left the Sunday morning service angry with God every week.”
It’s a sad commentary on the preaching that some Christians endure that God ends up looking as though it thrills Him to know that people are going to end up in hell – some kind of eternal damnation from which there is no escape. Not to discount the reality of the error of living apart from God. I just can’t find a way to think – and neither can Scripture – that such reality makes God happy.
One of the lectionary readings for this coming Sunday is Psalm 130. One of the songs of ascents, Psalm 130 was used by ancient Jews as they made the long journey to Jerusalem for feasts – like Passover. It is sometimes called a penitential psalm, because at the heart of its words is a cry of despair. That despair is rooted in the psalmist’s own recognition that he is a sinner. “If you kept a record of our sins” is recognition that our need for God is ultimately beyond description.
The psalm ends with a picture of God my friend apparently never heard from the pulpit of the church she once attended. “Israel, trust in the Lord, because his love is constant and he is always willing to save. He will save his people Israel from their sins.”
If scholars have judged correctly, these words were sung as faithful Jews entered Jerusalem. One can only imagine what would have been in their minds and hearts as the Day of Atonement came and Israel’s high priest would sprinkle blood on the Mercy Seat. Compare that to what you and I have experienced because “once and for all” the Lamb of God has taken away the sins of the world.
How do some Christians get off track and somehow think that God rejoices in condemning? Even the psalmist – who could only dream of what you and I have experienced in Christ – understood that God’s “love is constant and He is always willing to save.”
God pursues us like no other. Every time I think about God as a “pursuing God” I think about Jacob. He seems to be such an unworthy character when it comes to being loved and used by God. Yet God never gives up on him!
The season of Lent reminds me that when I looked in the mirror this morning, I was looking at a Jacob of sorts. For I, too, am such “an unworthy character when it comes to being loved and used by God.” But the story of my life is that of Jacob – “yet God never gives up on him.”
It’s heartbreaking that my friend did hear that about God – but a source of joy that she knew that kind of God wasn’t the one who revealed Himself in Jesus of Nazareth. It is equally sad that such false witness to God – the God whose “love is constant and He is always willing to save” – still gets spewed from place to place.
Lent is convicting – we cannot help but remind ourselves of our unworthiness. But, in that conviction, we discover a God who forgives even us!
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