The First Day of the Week

John tells us  that Jesus' last words were "It is finished." Not all that unlike the words in Genesis 1 and 2 when God "finishes" the work of creation and decides to rest on the Sabbath.

The resurrection story in John happens on "the first day of the week."  It is a day of new creation and a day where the potential for humans to finally achieve the God-intended purpose of creation in the here and now - with huge implications for the "then and there" of eternity.

The first Easter sermon - preached by women! - was preached in a world where "Jerusalem was rotten to the core." Politics had reached into the depths of absurdity. Sound familiar? Culture was confused and searching. Sound familiar? Jesus would describe it as "helpless and harassed, like sheep without a Shepherd." Sounds so familiar.

Yet,despite what many viewed as decades of silence from God - He thundered the words that changed human history -  "He is risen!"

It is nearly midnight - the beginning of the first day of the week.  In some Christian  traditions a fire is about to be lit signifying that something has happened that changes everything.

"My world is rotten - to the core." Politics have left me wondering if there is  any hope. The news tells me of evil raising its ugly head in places like Paris,  San  Bernardino, and Brussels. "Let's just kill people for the sake  of killing people" seems to be the mantra of the day. But erupting from an empty tomb in ancient Judea are words of life - "He is not here. He  is risen."

New creation. Renewal. Restoration. A  conversation with God - not in the cool of the evening, but at the breaking of dawn. Resurrection. In Bonhoeffer's words, "The night is not yet over, but already the dawn is breaking."

Who would have thought.

No one. No eyes. No ears. No mind imagined.

But that is the message of the first day of the week.

Thanks be to God. His gift is indescribable. His  message, life changing. His invitation - well, it is for us all.

I think I will go light a fire!

Reflections Along the Way

This isn't the best picture in the world by a long shot, but it is my picture - a picture that I was close enough to take on my iPhone. It is, if you don't recognize it, St. Peter's in Rome. I was standing in the middle of a group of 30 Point University students and three faculty colleagues when I took the picture.

I could spend quite a while reviewing what we saw while in Rome, Florence, Pompeii, Delphi, Athens, and other places along the way, but I am more inclined to tell you about the Point students I was privileged to spend ten days with over Spring Break 2016.

The academic side of me wants to tell you that we had an amazing tour guide, who also arranged for us to have five different local tour guides - each of whom seemed to really know what they were talking about, whether it was Franco at the Vatican or Apollo at the Acropolis (who gets the prize for most appropriate tour guide name), Roberto in Pompeii, was the most colorful of the local guides. He did his first group tour of Pompeii in 1960, and at 81 years old, was still a fantastic tour guide. At my age, I like to see that sort of thing!

But what I appreciate so much about the visits to the various places is that each of the tour guides said something to me about how polite, attentive, and interesting our students were. Apollo, an archaeologist by training and "real job," and a tour guide for the Acropolis "on the side," said it best, "Not all college tour groups listen - but your group did, even though it was pretty hot on the top of the Acropolis and I was really giving lots of details." I was really proud to hear him say that!

Perhaps even more important than the "academic" reality of this trip, we were able to watch a group of 30 Point students model the kind of behavior we want to be the standard in the community of faith known as Point University. They were polite, respectful, and civil to one another and to those around them. If we asked them to be ready to load the bus at 8:30 a.m., they were there. They were even on time the morning we left for the airport in Athens to begin our trip home - and that was 3:30 a.m.! You might think that in a group of 30 college students, at least one person would push beyond acceptable limits - but that never happened. I would travel with this group anywhere, anytime.

We did visit some stunning places, not the least of which was the Acropolis. Reaching back as far as the fifth century BCE, the monuments on the Acropolis are reminders to those who visit of the birth of the ideas of freedom and democracy that are the foundation of western civilization. As impressive as the ruins of Pompeii are - in significant ways they reminded me of why the gospel is so important for humankind. The Oracles of Delphi were amazing and the local guide's explanation gave some clarity to that place that I've never had before. St. Peter's in Rome and the whole Vatican complex, pro or con when it comes to Roman Catholicism, has been the center of western Christianity for centuries. We spent time walking there. We also walked on stones that Julius Caesar walked and stood in the shadow of Mt. Vesuvius just like the unsuspecting people of Pompeii did centuries ago. We stepped out of the moment in which we live and viewed western civilization from an entirely different perspective.

In nearly every church we visited, there were the expected places to light candles and pray for others. We conservative followers of Jesus tend to be a little nervous about such things, but honestly I couldn't find a reason not to spend some time in prayer in such beautiful places. I prayed for family and friends, and I prayed for Point - especially our students, and especially the 30 students on this trip. I prayed for my country and the very confusing election cycle we are currently witnessing.  It wasn't a "mission trip" in the normal sense of that word, but it was missional, if "missional" can include exposure to the world in a way that prepares one for effectively bearing witness of our faith that in Christ, and Christ alone, there is hope for the world. Our students listened along the journey of this ten day venture to Europe - and I'm confident they have a better sense of what following Jesus must look like than before they left the airport in Atlanta for Rome.

One more added benefit - I was one of four faculty members on the trip. The other three were Holly Carey, who teaches in the area of biblical studies; Jenn Craft, who teaches in the area of humanities and biblical studies, and Sarah Huxford, who teaches in the area of communication. The three of them are in the early years of teaching at Point, and of course I am on the other end of that spectrum. It is so encouraging to me to realize that not only have I worked with great colleagues these 40 years at Point, but there are outstanding young faculty members - like these three and many others - who will continue to believe that educating students for Christ-centered service and leadership throughout the world is a worthwhile way to spend one's life!

Now - back to work, I have two classes this afternoon and one tonight.

A Lenten Farewell

“No act of virtue can be great if it is not followed by advantage for others.

So, no matter how much time you spend fasting, no matter how much you 

sleep on a hard floor and eat ashes and sigh continually,

 if you do no good to others, you do nothing great.”

Those are words spoken by the great fourth century preacher John Chrysostom. They seem as relevant an admonition to me thousands of years later as they must have to those who first heard them spoken. Could it be that it is in the act of providing advantage for another than my own sacrifice can have real meaning? 

The challenge to follow Jesus is just that – a challenge. Despite our cultural bias toward that which is easy and requires little of me, the gospel seems rooted in the idea that following Jesus is a call to give of our very best, to give of our all, and to come on bended knee as we seek His help along the way.

In Luke’s account of the Jesus story, he has Jesus talking about the cost of following Him in Luke 14:26ff. “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” (NRSV) Most of us are pretty quick to run to Matthew for rescue, where he has Jesus saying, “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me . . .” (Matthew 10:37=39) Matthew seems to be a little more pastoral than Luke.

Currently I am reading through Luke as a part of my devotional reading of Scripture. What I noticed a few days ago that I don’t recall noticing before – perhaps why William Willimon describes the Bible as “a thick book” – is that this text ends in Luke about as strongly as it begins. Here what Jesus says, “So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.” (ESV)  Apparently Jesus missed the day in rabbi school when they talked about a politically correct way of talking about discipleship!

The word Luke uses only shows up in the New Testament sseven times. Six of them are simply formal ways of saying “farewell.” A would-be disciple wants to say “farewell” to his family in Luke 6:61. Jesus says “farewell” to the crowds after the feeding of the 5000 in Mark 6:46 and goes off to pray. The other four are similar, routine ways of saying “good bye.”

Then there is this one. The ESV says “renounce” while the NRSV says “give up all.” Either preference puts me in a challenging place. What in the world can Jesus be thinking? I need to “hate” my family context and “renounce” all my stuff. Following Jesus doesn’t seem to be the stroll in the park some might have me believe. 

In the same way I’m sure that Jesus isn’t literally asking me to hate my family, I’d like to think that He doesn’t mean by “renounce” that I give away everything I have and hope for the best. But at the same time – I’m pretty sure I should pay more attention to this text. The truth is, when you read Acts 2-4, it seems fair to say that early Christians took words like this more to heart than we do.

Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent – that centuries old Christian practice of re-thinking our relationship to Jesus in the context of repentance, sacrifice, and commitment. I’m beyond caring whether or not a simple little non-Catholic Christian like me ought to practice Lent – so no need to remind me it isn’t “in the Bible.” Neither is the church building you worshipped in on Sunday, but my guess is church buildings have value.

So for me – I’m going to do my best to think seriously about this question: “What word from Jesus is troubling my heart right now?” If I don’t have an answer to that question, then I have probably fallen victim to what Pope Francis recently called “the globalization of indifference.” 

In all honesty – I probably don’t need to think beyond “renounce all that he has” as a “troubling word from Jesus.” During Lent, I’m going to think about that, pray about that, and talk about that. How can I become more like Jesus and less like the “stuff” I need to renounce. Of course I will have to remember the quote at the beginning from Chrysostom – and not just “renounce” but do something!

Whether you like the whole idea of Lent or not – I can’t imagine that it wouldn’t help you, just as I am doing, to wonder about some “troubling of the heart” words from Jesus for the next 40 days. 

Blessing to you as we journey toward Easter.

Fairness Counts

Despite both growing up hearing it and saying it to my own children as a parent, the old adage “Life isn’t fair” doesn’t speak to how life ought to be, but how life sometimes turns out. Followers of Jesus should never be satisfied with that idea as a description of how things ought to be. 

As a child growing up, I spent lots of time with my paternal grandparents – who lived all of less than a mile down the country road from my parent’s house. I suspect it had something to do with the favored status I perceived I occupied with my grandparents, the fascination with the farm, and the reality that grandparents are generally easier on kids than parents.

I remember lots of lessons from those days. In addition to being a dairy farmer, my grandfather grew crops that required lots of manual labor and back in those days, that meant people’s livelihood was typically earned in doing this kind of work. Nearly always people were paid at the end of the day, every day. My grandmother would often remind my grandfather of the warning in James 5:4 – “Listen! The wages of the laborers who mowed your fields, which you kept back by fraud, cry out, and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts.” (NRSV) I don’t think she did that because my grandfather was dishonest – but because she wanted to make sure everyone was treated fairly – justly.

That whole paragraph – James 5:1-6 – is one that any of us living in modern culture ought to review occasionally. It is all about treating people justly. While James’ specific illustration seems to speak to the issue of paying just wages, it seems to me that the overriding principle in play is whether or not I treat people in every context of life justly. In a culture where manual labor was predominant, it is no surprise that James uses the idea of paying just wages as the vehicle in which he reminds his readers of just treatment of others. He surely is thinking about Deuteronomy 24:14, 15. Or to use Jesus’ words, the need to treat others in the context of loving God and loving neighbor. 

Do I treat students in my classes justly? If not – will their voices cry out in judgment? What about restaurant owners who pay less than minimum wage, in the name of “tips make up the difference”? Or even more personally for most of us – the customers in restaurants who tip so poorly there is no way we help “make up the difference.” Then there is the bureaucratic reach of government employees who seem to enjoy being difficult. And court systems who treat the accused with the kind of disdain that should never be in a believer’s heart. And banks whose interest rates far exceed reason. Or businesses who resort to price gouging in times of disaster and who sell inferior products at outrageous prices.

Of course it is easy to simply say “that’s how the system works.” “Capitalism isn’t perfect – but it’s better than any other alternative, so too bad about the abuses.” “The courts are supposed to punish the guilty, so tough luck if you’re caught in the system.” “It’s not my fault she can only get a job at some local mom and pop, meat and two vegetables kind of place.” 

All the while, we watch our own treasures increase and fail to hear the cries of those treated unjustly that reach the ears of the Lord of the hosts. 

“But I’m not rich” becomes our immediate mode of defense. Yet, compared to those who first read James, we are all pretty rich – and we dare not dismiss these words so casually.

I didn’t realize it growing up, but looking at life from this end of the journey, I’m grateful for the regular reminder of my grandmother that justice matters – and it always matters. If justice matters, I won’t become rich at the expense of laborers; and I won’t become powerful at the expense of the marginal; I won’t pad my resume at the expense of the accused; and I won’t excuse myself because “that’s the way things are.” 

Life really isn’t fair – but that’s no excuse for a believer to contribute to the unfairness.

Of Springs and Cisterns

My wife and I were both in graduate school, had part-time jobs, and a weekend ministry in a little church in rural Kentucky. As summer approached the issue of Vacation Bible School arose and somehow we convinced the church to do an evening VBS – despite the “we’ve never done it that way” initial response.

I was taking first year Hebrew, a decision that might not have been among my best, and Vicki was taking some class required as a part of her graduate degree in music. We both were in class, worked a few hours in our part-time jobs, Vicki was practicing for her masters organ recital, drove to Kentucky in late afternoon, did VBS, drove back home, and got ready for class the next day.

Friday night, sometime around 9 p.m., VBS was almost over. It was the “best VBS we’ve ever had” said one of the “we’ve never done it that way before” folks. We were both dead tired. One of the men in the church suddenly came up to me and said, “We are out of water.” First of all, I didn’t know you could do that in the US – be out of water – and second of all, why was he telling me.

The church had a mobile home next door to the building and we often spent the weekends there. We were planning on doing that on this particular Friday night. But there was no water.

A family in the church told us we could come over and shower and get some water to bring back with us for coffee the next morning. The man who first told me about the problem said, “We will have the cistern refilled in the morning.”

“Cistern?” I wasn’t sure what one was, much less aware that was the source of our weekend drinking water! Growing up in the low country of South Carolina where water was just a few feet below ground level, I never imagined that the best approach to running water in this part of Kentucky would be a cistern. 

Early that Saturday morning, I heard a truck backing up to the church building and curiosity got the best of me. By the time I got outside, they had pushed back a cover to a huge cement cistern on the back of the church building – something I had never noticed before. As the cistern filled, I noticed all manner of bugs, leaves, and assorted debris floating to the top. Eventually there was what looked like the carcass of a long-since deceased Mocking Bird! The water truck guy took a net and “cleaned it out for me.”

Even though this was long before the common availability of bottled water, I don’t think we ever failed to have some bottled water for drinking and cooking on the weekends after that.

As Jeremiah begins his explanation, on behalf of the Lord, for why Israel is in such deep trouble with God, he says:

                “Be appalled, O heavens, at this,

                    be shocked, be utterly desolate,

                                                declares the Lord,

                for my people have committed two evils:

                they have forsaken me,

                    the fountain of living waters,

                and hewed out cisterns for themselves,

                    broken cisterns that can hold no water. (Jeremiah 2:12, 13, ESV)

I never read those words without thinking about that Mocking Bird carcass in the cistern on the back of a little Kentucky church building. It reminds me of how foolish it is to walk away from a fountain of living water hoping to drink from a cistern that can hold no water.  I suspect this great prophetic text could have been in the mind of Jesus when He told the woman in Samaria “The water that I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” (John 4:15)

So the question I am asking myself – and hoping you will ask yourself – at the beginning of a new year is simply this: “Where are you getting your drinking water?”

Springs or cisterns?

A little later Jeremiah, still speaking about Israel’s forsaking of God, will say, “They were not ashamed at all, they did not know how to blush.” (Jeremiah 6:15) That sounds an awful lot like our culture right now – and it probably reflects our seeking after empty cisterns rather that fountains of living water.

So  - the question: springs or cisterns?