The Reluctant Preacher

When you're down and troubled // And you need some loving care // And nothing, nothing is going right // Close your eyes and think of me // And soon I will be there // To brighten up even your darkest night. // You just call out my name // and you know wherever I am // I'll come running // To see you again // Winter, spring, summer or fall // All you have to do is call // And I'll be there // You've got a friend.   
“You’ve Got a Friend” by Carol King, 1971

The Book of Jonah is a whale of a tale – pun intended. Sometimes though, we get so caught up in the details of the fish that we miss the meat of the message. Jesus spoke of Jonah as a real person, and I think this reluctant Old Testament preacher has a couple of things to teach us.

We cannot hide from God. It is possible to run from God – I did it for 40 plus years. It is impossible to outrun him though. Jonah didn’t fool God for a New York minute by boarding that ship to Tarshish and hiding in its lowest levels. God was right there. In trying to escape his calling, Jonah brought trouble upon himself and others. Those poor sailors were thrown into a monstruous storm and while they valiantly fought to save him, they probably were still burdened by guilt when they had to toss Jonah overboard.

God gives second chances. If we ask for forgiveness, God will give us another shot at things. Jonah was saved when he called for help – “Waters have grasped me to the point of death; the deep surrounds me. Seaweed is wrapped around my head at the base of the undersea mountains. I have sunk down to the underworld; its bars held me with no end in sight. But you brought me out of the pit.” (2.5-6, CEB) That was a pretty deep place to be drowning in and yet, God rescued him. We are never beyond the hope of a new start with God’s help.

We may be unhappy with God’s will. Jonah preached an eight word sermon: “Forty days more and Nineveh will be overthrown.” His sermon worked! The entire city of 120,000 people repented. Yet, Jonah had the chutzpah to be disappointed and unhappy. He got angry! Many of us pray for God’s will expecting to be thrilled about it, but danger, danger, Will Robinson. Where did we ever get that idea from? God’s will is unlikely to make us happy, because to obey God’s will requires us sacrifice our will and that is never easy to do.

We all have a bit of Jonah in us – some more than others – but at the end of the day, we are Jonah on more occasions than we might care to admit. Like Jonah, we often find out the hard way that we can never get away from God, no matter how long, how hard, and  how fast we run trying to escape the calling and responsibility that he places on us. Save your energy instead for doing God’s will, whether you like it or not at the moment. In the end, you’ll be glad that you did.

Just as Jonah was in the whale’s belly for three days and three nights, so the Human One will be in the heart of the earth for three days and three nights. (Matthew 12.40, CEB)

  • Artwork: Jonah, lunette painting in the Cybo-Soderini Chapel in Santa Maria del Popolo by Pieter van Lint, c. 1636. Inscription on the tablet: “Tollite me, et [mittite in mare]” which means “Pick me up and throw me into the sea”

PRAY

If there’s one thing I want you to do especially for me // Then it’s something that everybody needs…// Each night before you go to bed, my baby, // Whisper a little prayer for me, my baby, And tell all the stars above – This is dedicated to the one I love.

Dedicated to the One I Love, written by Lowman Pauling and Ralp Bass, 1957

I haven’t posted in what seems like forever – I think September of 2021 was the last time. Taking a stab at self-defense, the fall of 2021 into the spring of 2022 was a whirlwind of busyness and distraction as I was juggling three jobs – property manager for my home church, managing our food panty and serving, albeit part time, the good people of a local church as their interim minister. It was crazy, exhausting, and at times, maddeningly frustrating, as I struggled to write a sermon on Saturday, lead worship on Sunday, spend that afternoon writing next Sunday’s service – it was due Monday to meet bulletin production deadlines imposed by the administrative requirements dictated by a limited budget. Then Monday morning rolled around and…well, I hope you get the picture. It was a blessed time. No, really….it truly was.

But that is all changing. I have resigned from my role as a sexton and food pantry director to accept a full time position as the interim minister of a church around the corner from my home. God has asked me to help a congregation whose long time pastor recently departed. It is a congregation in mourning and one that is very anxious as it navigates the uncertainties that comes from transition. I am excited to embrace the tasks that  await and I am under no illusion that the challenges are very real and very difficult. But since it is God that has asked, then I know that God is in this and that’s the only comfort I need.

I suspect that too many of us often lose sight of God’s presence as we struggle with the uncertainties and pain that is part of our daily lives. The pandemic has been a very difficult period for all of us and the clergy have not gone unscathed: the pastorate is hurting as well. It was in that context that I delivered the homily that follows to a gathering of the ministers and elders from a group of churches in my neck of the woods. And while my audience may have been the ordained, in a manner of speaking, all disciples of Christ are “ordained,” so I thought I’d share with all of you what I had to offer to them…

~

At a recent ordination service, while we were waiting for things to get underway, one of our pastors shared a story with a few of us from his ordination. As hands were laid on him, the minister at the time kept pressing down on his shoulders to impress upon him the weight of what being ordained felt like – the understanding that we are being, like the sailors of old, tied to the mast, so as not to be washed overboard by the raging seas of life in which we pastors embark daily.

And those seas are raging. Eugene Peterson, in Working the Angles, describes this in terms of wreckage – wrecked bodies, wrecked families, wrecked marriages, wrecked friendships and so on. It is into and through that wreckage that our ordination calls us to step – to walk into the ruins and witness to the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I might be the newbie on the block, but I have lived in the back stair cases of the house long enough to appreciate how difficult and exhausting this work can be. Pastoral burnout is at record levels. If I remember correctly, it was in acknowledgement of this, that the Lilly folks created grants that underwrote sabbaticals this past year.

Jeremiah knew fatigue. Jeremiah knew burnout. Early in his career, he wants to throw in the towel and walk away from the wreckage that surrounded him and the persecutions that challenged him: Lord, he prays- “So drag them away, and butcher them like sheep. Prepare them for the slaughterhouse” (12:3, CEB). That is one tired, angry and burned out dude!

Hey Jeremiah, I ordained you, the Lord tells him. Before I created you in the womb, I picked you out, set you apart as a prophet to the nations. I anointed you to run with horses, and you are tired out by the foot runners? Are you going to quit when you discover that there is more to this work than a 9-5, dinner and television life style? It’s tough stuff that I ordained you to do, but do not forget you are an iron pillar and bronze wall because I am with you. You can do it with me at your side.

I have no idea how long it took Jeremiah to respond, but we know he did – “From the thirteenth year of Judah’s King Josiah, Amon’s son, to this very day—twenty-three years—the Lord’s word has come to me. I have delivered it to you repeatedly, although you wouldn’t listen” (25:3, CEB). He sticks to it – he is still at it for 23 years, in spite of death threats, moments of despair and discouragement, being whipped in a stockade, thrown into a well, and daily ridiculed, his message ignored because he doesn’t buy into the lifestyle, the fads and whims of the secular life that was rotting away around him.

How did he find the courage? How did he find the deep abiding faith to live fully into what God was calling him to do? How did he meet the challenge to run with horses? Persistence. Every morning, every afternoon, every evening he awaited to hear the word of the Lord. He prayed.

Prayer was the action that Jeremiah rooted his entire day with. For 23 years he prayed to hear the word of the Lord and for 23 years, he heard it. He heard it because for Jeremiah, it wasn’t faith in prayer – it was faith in God. It wasn’t a technique that he used as a way to get things done: his were not prayers of oops, wow, gimme and thanks. Prayer for Jeremiah was a way of coming to God in faith and trust. Scared, worn out, lonely, hurt angry, discouraged, Jeremiah came to prayer with the desire to listen to God firsthand, to speak to God first hand because God had primacy in and over his life.

But what did Jeremiah’s prayer look like? How did he pray? I am indebted to a section from Peterson’s work, Run with the Horses, for his terrific exposition of chapter 15 of Jeremiah for the following.

Jeremiah prays his fear – You understand, Lord!  Remember me and act on my behalf…(15:15, CEB) You got me into this stuff and I’m counting on you to see me through it.

He prays his loneliness – When your words turned up, I feasted on them; and they became my joy, the delight of my heart, because I belong to you,  Lord God of heavenly forces. I didn’t join the festive occasions; I took no delight in them. I sat alone because your hand was upon me (15:16-17, CEB). Jeremiah lived the truth – he delighted in receiving God’s word but when he turned around, no one else was there – they were on the golf course, at the shopping mall, watching television.

He prays his hurt – Why am I always in pain? Why is my wound incurable, so far beyond healing? (15:18a, CEB) He hurts because he cares – he cares about the flock that God has charged him with and their refusal to listen to the love of God that he preaches every Sunday, hurts.

He prays his anger – You have become for me as unreliable as a spring gone dry! (15:18b, CEB) The man who once preached that God was “the spring of living water” (2.13, CEB), now accuses him of deceit. You didn’t walk the talk, God.

We all have our moments of doubt, when the pits of despair seem insurmountable, when the dark nights of the soul is so black we can’t see our own fingers in front of us. Dealing with Peterson’s wreckage day after day is not an easy thing – we are only human. Pray your anger, pray your fear, pray your hurt, pray your loneliness. Pray your love. We need to hear and rehear God’s promises, made to us in our ordinations, over and over again. Simply carrying around some memory verses in our pockets isn’t enough. We need that daily encounter that comes in prayer. The world is changing all around us – changing faster and faster it seems – but God’s word never changes. In prayer, we encounter the word that renews and reaffirms and my prayer tonight is that Jeremiah’s example may be one that guides all of us as we try to run with the horses. Pray.

Artwork: “Jeremiah Lamenting the Destruction of Jerusalem,” Rembrandt, 1603, Public Domain

Teach Us to Pray

I was born // I was born to sing for you // I didn’t have a choice but to lift you up // And sing whatever song you wanted me to // I give you back my voice // From the womb my first cry, it was a joyful noise …

from the song  “Magnificent,” Bono & The Edge (Guitarist), May 2009

The disciples in Luke’s gospel confronts us with one of the extraordinary weaknesses in most of our lives – the need to pray. Life is a messy, busy affair. It is easy to fall victim to its distractions whether they be sports, alcohol and drugs, material consumption and its never ending shopping sprees, the allure of making it up the corporate ladder and so on. We are people that are always moving our buckets to the fountains of our efforts instead of to the springs of God’s grace and in the end, we never just “be”: instead we invest our identities in our own accomplishments ending up with so much harness, we can’t see the horse. We need prayer.

Jesus was praying in a certain place. When he had finished, one of his disciples said, ‘Lord, teach us to pray.”

Our intrepid crew of 12 didn’t get things right very often, but here is one time I think they really nailed it. The disciples had repeatedly witnessed Jesus in prayer and recognized that they were in the presence of  one who knew the reality of prayer and knew the deep difference it made in life. They also realized how far removed they were from what they were witnessing. They were coming to see how significant and how central prayer needed to be in their lives and that alas, it was not so.

First, they knew Jesus to be a man of prayer and for Jesus, prayer was the way of life, a way of continual communication with God, his Father. They knew that sometimes he prayed all night long. There is a popular conception of Jesus being a social activist, placing emphasis on deeds, engaging in revolutionary action. All true. But Jesus was not a political activist that relied on human power to accomplish his purpose. He was at first and always, a man of prayer whose power came from those prayers. His prayers showed the necessity of prayer and demonstrated that he could do nothing without God and by extension, that we can do nothing without Christ. Do you remember the scene in Mark 9 when the our intrepid twelve failed to cast out the demon in the epileptic boy? “Why couldn’t we throw this spirit out?” they asked Jesus. Jesus answered: “throwing this kind of spirit out requires prayer.” We cannot conquer the moral and spiritual crises of our day by human effort. As Zechariah learned during the rebuilding of the temple, it would be accomplished “Neither by power, nor by strength, but by my spirit, says the Lord of heavenly forces.” We need to heed that message as well. No one can be brought to new life in Christ without prayer.

A second behavior the disciples witnessed was that from the beginning, Jesus prayed before every major crisis that he faced: he prayed at his baptism, at the beginning of his public ministry and he prayed when the Galileans wanted to make him king. He went into the wilderness to pray and prayed all night before choosing the 12. He prayed at the Transfiguration and he prayed in Gethsemane on his way to his death.  Prayer is the activity that should be front and center when we are faced with major decisions and problems. We need to pray in sickness as well as in health.

A third thing they saw was that Jesus prayed alone. And in case you missed him doing so, he taught us that as well – “Whenever you go to pray, go into your closet and pray in private and the Father who sees in private will reward you.…” Solitude is important – it’s not out of shame or embarrassment, but it’s to avoid interruptions. We gather in worship and pray – it is audible and corporate, but being alone with God in prayer is the ultimate test for the reality of prayer in our lives.

Finally, the fourth thing they noticed is how Jesus continually expressed his gratitude for the blessings in his life. He thanked God for hearing him when Lazarus was raised, he gave thanks for the loaf and fish before breaking it and feeding 5 thousand. Why do Christians need to pray asks question # 116 in the Heidelberg Catechism? “Because prayer is the chief part of thankfulness which God requires of us and because God gives His grace and Holy Spirit only to those who earnestly and without ceasing ask them of Him, and render thanks unto Him for them”

“I was born to sing, I was born to sing for you…” Lord teach us to pray

Artwork: Christ’s Prayer on Oelber, by Carlo Crivelli, 1468

PRE-RECORDED

I listen to the wind, To the wind of my soul // Where I’ll end up, well, I think // Only God really knows…

The Wind, Cat Stevens, 1971

Over the past few months, several readers have posed a variation on the following question: “I looked up ‘Reformed’ in the encyclopedia. It said it was a branch of Christianity that strongly emphasized predestination. If, as we read in Luke 14, that all are invited to the table, how can we believe in predestination?” As the old Saturday Night Live skit would say – discuss! So let me share with you a conversation that I had with my daughter on this often sticky wicket.

Well I must say Skylar, that you raise a question that many before you, and many that will come after you, have puzzled over as well. Admittedly, this can be a difficult doctrine to understand, perhaps even one that provokes anger in some, but the short answer to your question is yes, we do believe it. I hope that I can help you to understand why, by helping you better understand what it means. The term “predestination’ otherwise known as the doctrine of election, originates in the work of St. Augustine, who was the Bishop of Hippo in North Africa from 396 C.E. until his death in 430 C.E. It was John Calvin who more fully developed Augustine’s thoughts in his seminal work, The Institutes of the Christian Religion.We call predestination, God’s eternal decree, by which he compacted with himself what he willed to become of each man. For all are not in equal condtion; rather, eternal life is foreordained for some, eternal damnation for others. Therefore, as any man has been created to one or the other of these ends, we speak of him as predestined to life or death” (Institutes of Christian Religion :Two Volumes, ed. John Thomas MacNeill, trans. Ford Lewis Battles, II.21.5).

I will admit that the notion of election has always created some tension within me at times as well, and I know that it is one that continues to have its friction and tension points with our current culture that firmly believes, in Babel like fashion, that we can be whatever we decide to be. As Calvin says himself: “A baffling question this seems to many. For they think nothing more inconsistent than that out of the common multitude of men some should be predestined to salvation, others to destruction.” (Institutes, II.21.1) Baffling might be a bit of an understatement.

All of this is very interesting to consider given that the concept of election has its roots in scripture and is not new to Augustine or Calvin or anyone else, for that matter. Think of that foundational teaching that we in the Reformed tradition adhere to: ‘sola scriptura,’ by scripture alone. Augustine and Calvin did not simply dream this doctrine up in a self-righteous undertaking. There are countless places in scripture where we meet elements of election: Cain’s offering vs Abel’s; Isaac over Ishmael, Jacob and Esau; David over Saul and so forth. The psalms and the prophets are rfie with language noting God’s choice of some over others: e.g. 33.12; 65.4; 105.6, 42-43 to cite a few).

Perhaps the classic articulation of election is witnessed in the book of John, chapter six, when Jesus states “No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me; and I will raise that person up on the last day…” Skylar, please, please take note of what Jesus says – ‘‘unless drawn by the Father.” Because God loves us first, it is only through the grace of God that we are drawn to God to begin with. Paul makes note of this in his letter to the Ephesians: “…just as he chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love. He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will..” (Ephesians 1.4-5, NRSV). Our status before God and our relationship with God is utterly and completely dependent upon the grace of God and God’s pre-determining action. We have nothing whatsoever to do with it.

As children of the enlightenment, post enlightenment, modern, postmodern – whatever label you might want to place on the philosophical influences that have shaped our western culture and worldviews, we think and conclude that we are. The notion that the self cannot determine its fate, especially given said fate was set prior to being formed in the womb, is a concept that not only grates against everything we have been taught and indoctrinated with regarding merit and work, it is one that is impossible to get our limited capacities in a position to understand. In the 139th psalm, the writer sums this up pretty well for me and I hope this helps you as well:

…O Lord, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it… For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb…My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes beheld my unformed substance. In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed. How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!

Scripture is quite clear – God has known us before we are and written all of our days in God’s book before our days were upon us. Yes, we believe in predestination because God tells us that is it so.

Feet in Your Shoes

You have brains in your head// You have feet in your shoes// You can steer yourself any direction you choose// You’re on your own// And you know what you know// And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go//…So…be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray // or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O’Shea,// you’re off to Great Places // Today is your day// Your mountain is waiting // So…get on your way!

Oh The Places You Will Go, Dr. Seuss

I recently posted a piece regarding identity within the context of Matthew 28, aka, the Great Commision(See Route 66, March 7, 2021). I want to take another run at something else that I found arresting while dwelling in the words found there.

There is a question that  begins in nursery school and morphs into one that chases us almost all of our lives – “What do you do?” What do you do is one of the first questions that comes up at any cocktail or dinner party when we meet new folks. What do you do? Not who are you, but what do you do? I’m a lawyer, I’m a teacher, I’m dog catcher, a plumber, baker and a candle stick maker. We claim our identity and that of others in a job description as if that is the sum total of who we are.

Easter is upon us and as we prepare to bask in its glow, the question of what do we do and how that doing reflects who we are, become very critical questions for us to reconsider in the light of the risen Christ who has called us to follow him. The call of Christ is a call to be something more profound than what our secular career choices claim to say about our identity and it is a challenge to the subconscious desires that drive us to believe that the good life is found in another genuflection at the altar of the shopping mall.

We are called to an identity that is something far greater and enduring.  Jesus calls us to be the people of God.

Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus told them to go. When they saw him, they worshipped him, but some doubted. Jesus came near and spoke to them, “I’ve received all authority in heaven and on earth. Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything that I’ve commanded you. Look, I myself will be with you every day until the end of this present age.”  

Perhaps you noticed this: Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee

Eleven is an odd number- odd literally and symbolically. It is not the perfect twelve, nor is it the typical biblical reference of seven for completion and or wholeness. It’s incomplete; it’s less than perfect; it’s flawed or blemished in some fashion. As my late father might say, there is a hitch in its giddy up. Eleven disciples – Matthew has Jesus sending an imperfect bunch into the world to do his perfect work.

But it gets more interesting…

They worshipped him, but some doubted – Some doubted. We really don’t know if they all doubted or just a few, the Greek is ambiguous at best. But how can they worship Christ if they have doubts? And how could any of these eleven, having just seen the risen Jesus, doubted at all? I find the notion that the disciples who worship and yet doubted as evangelical and deeply profound from a theological and spiritual level.

Just as Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil, so we Christians live in a war between the spirit of worship and the spirit of doubt: the spirit of worship as God’s people and the spirit of the world’s people, Amazon Prime. Jesus doesn’t correct, exorcise or otherwise attack this doubt, choosing instead, to quietly ignore it as if it is normal. By his great commission, Jesus is teaching that the disciples will win their war on doubt by following his command. Albert Schweitzer once said – “Follow him and you will know Him.”  Doubt is part of our human imperfections this side of the resurrection and Matthew’s good news is that doubt and worship can, and do, coexist. Doubting worshippers are Jesus’ material in mission – Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven – blessed are those who worship the risen Lord and who still struggle with their doubt.

And it is these imperfect people – you and I – that Christ promises to always be with. The great commission – the great commission to be – to be disciples of Jesus, united to him in the waters of baptism by the power of the Spirit, making us the very people of God.

“You have feet in your shoes for the direction you choose.” So, whether you chose to be a teacher, a custodian, a butcher, a baker, or candle stick maker, do whatever it is that you chose to do as the person of God that you are. Bring the light, love and truth of Christ to everyone that you meet, in everything you say, and in everything that you are. Go and be.

Mirror, mirror, where's the crystal palace? 
But I only can see myself 
Skating around the truth who I am. 

Winter, Tori Amos

Heartburn

When we were strangers // I watched you from afar // When we were lovers // I loved you with all my heart // But now it’s gettin’ late // And the moon is climbin’ high // I want to celebrate // See it shinin’ in your eye // Because I’m still in love with you // I want to see you dance again // Because I’m still in love with you // On this harvest moon

Harvest Moon, Neil Young, 1992

Harvest moons. The moon that is so named for shining ever so brightly in the season of waning fertility, the crops have been harvested and the long, dark winter is about to set in. Neil Young has succinctly captured something about life, love, and marriage that resonates with me. It is a picture of mature love that can flourish in marriage. But more than half the time, those “I do’s” are lost in a sea of despair and recriminations that end in divorce. I was one.

1 Corinthians 7.10-16 gives me heartburn: and in varying degrees, so does Mark 10, Matthew 5 and 19, Luke 16, and Roman 7.1-3. To be condemned to a lifetime of misery that a wrong marriage brings strikes me as antithetical to our initial directive to be fruitful and multiply. The fact remains, that life in a marriage gone bad is anything but fruitful. It is a life that has died in more ways than one.   

Beth and I knew this first hand. We both were in hellish, dead end marriages when we met. We were blessed by God to have found each other after many years of near misses, and yet we seem to stand in condemnation of the gospel: “And I say to you, whoever divorces his wife, except for unchastity, and marries another commits adultery”(Matt. 19.9, NRSV). We are adulterers even though we never cheated in the conventional understanding of that word. As I said – heartburn.

In The Moral Vision of the New Testament, Richard Hays has done some notable work with this subject that has helped me a bit and for those that might be having a similar case of indigestion, I want to share what I found.

Hays speaks of marriage within the framework of cross, community and new creation, a perspective that brings the “logic of the New Testament’s rigorous teaching against divorce comes clearly into focus” (p. 376). The covenant of marriage is, as Hays points, one that is rooted in the love that goes beyond the “rush of mutual joy, beyond the romance of “warm spring evenings and roses,” and should be rooted rather, in the love of the cross” (p.375). He goes on to critique the ease with which divorce occurs in our individualistic and therapeutic culture. It is very serious business, this covenanting stuff and I think Hays’ critique is worthy. Yes, marriage is hard. Perhaps our premarital counseling skills need some improving. Just sayin’….

So while I stewed, and as the acid of guilt, anger and frustration was rising into my throat, I was grateful that Hays, citing the canonical witness – “I Paul, not the Lord” – notes this: “I would take the New Testament’s hermeneutical process of discerning exceptions to the rule of Jesus’ teaching to be instructive about the process of moral deliberation in the church on this matter” (p.372). Ok then…there’s hope?

As someone who escaped (and I mean that in every sense of the word) a 13 year marriage of physical abuse and psychological devastation, it’s good to see the possibility of a scripturally grounded hermeneutic which acknowledges circumstances that, at least in my limited view, are antithetical to love and life and the very objective of marriage. I cannot accept that ‘better or worse’ means putting your life at risk and if that’s what Jesus meant, then I want my “Job” hearing.

So, having risen from the smoky ruins of hell to now be in a marriage that is long past warm spring evenings; a marriage that loves nothing better than doing the evening dishes together; a marriage that has endured the loss of a child, the loss of our house, the loss of every penny, the loss of my freedom and then some; a marriage that has produced a beautiful daughter who is following the Lord’s footsteps as she blossoms into adulthood; a marriage rooted in the practice of love that testifies to the presence and love of God. If that is a marriage that makes me an adulterer, then guilty as charged and I will sing God’s praise as I dance with the love of my life under the harvest moon.

Artwork: Harvest Moon, George Hemming Mason, 1872

Healing Helpers

I want to know did you get the feelin’ // Did you get it down in your soul // I want to know did you get the feelin’ // Oh did ye get healed //I begin to realize // Magic in my life // See it manifest in oh, so many ways // Every day is gettin’ better and better // I want to be daily walking close // It gets stronger when you get the feelin’ // When you get it down in your soul // And it makes you feel good // And it makes you feel whole // When the spirit moves you // And it fills you through and through // Every morning and at the break of day // Did ye get healed?

Van Morrison, Did Ye Get Healed, 1987

We are rapidly closing in on Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. This is the season when Christians take the time for introspection – a time to slow down and take a good, long, hard look at ourselves to see where we are, and importantly, where we are not, in our walk with Christ. Sometimes, what we find can be downright scary, perhaps so much that we ignore at best or deny at worst, just how far astray we have become: that there are more instances of “not” than “are.”

I can’t speak for you, but I can speak for myself when I see that I need healing. I have my share of demons that rage and rant, keeping me on the wrong path. How do I rid myself of these evils? In the following passage from the Gospel of Mark, Jesus shows us how.

 Jesus and his followers went into Capernaum. Immediately on the Sabbath Jesus entered the synagogue and started teaching. The people were amazed by his teaching, for he was teaching them with authority, not like the legal experts. Suddenly, there in the synagogue, a person with an evil spirit screamed, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are. You are the holy one from God.”
 “Silence!” Jesus said, speaking harshly to the demon. “Come out of him!” The unclean spirit shook him and screamed, then it came out.
 Everyone was shaken and questioned among themselves, “What’s this? A new teaching with authority! He even commands unclean spirits and they obey him!”Right away the news about him spread throughout the entire region of Galilee. (Mark 1.21-28, CEB) 

Consider how the sick man went about.

He sought to be taught. The man had an “evil spirit” – demon possession, epilepsy, alcoholism, drug addiction, some form of nervous disorder – we don’t know for sure. Whatever the nature of his illness was, he knew things were not right and he wasn’t shy about it. He had made the effort to reach for somebody to teach him, guide him, to heal him; and he went to the right place, the right house and met Jesus.

He fought with a new thought. He was willing to struggle. Healing is never easy and changing is even less so, even when we know it’s the necessary thing to do. We tend to fight against new ideas and new ways of being. An old friend called this the IRS system – no not that IRS – but Intimidation, Rebellion, and Screams. Sometimes, when we get closer to a life changing breakthrough, the reactions can be all the more passionate. The demoniac found the courage to struggle and wrestle with Jesus’ words in spite of his hostility, anger and turmoil.

He caught what Christ had. After he sought, and after he fought, the demoniac caught what Jesus had to offer: healing. He did not know how and he did not ask. He accepted. Everyone else may have been shocked: “What is this?” Not the healed man: he was just grateful to be well.

If you are hurting today, Jesus came for you. “Healthy people don’t need a doctor, but sick people do. I didn’t come to call righteous people but sinners to change their hearts and lives” (Luke 5.31-32, CEB). God wants you to be healthy and whole in body, mind and spirit. As you journey through Lent, take up those demons and turn to Christ. The psalmist said it this way: “But look here: God is my helper; my Lord sustains my life” (Psalm 54.4, CEB). Trust Jesus to heal you, to help you and to change your life. It might be a bit messy, it might get a bit loud, but the peace is well worth the noise and the trip. Get the feelin’!


Artwork: Romanesque painter, 12th century. St. Martin’s Church, Zillis, Graubünden, Switzerland

To the Ends of the Earth

“Imagine no possessions// I wonder if you can// No need for greed or hunger// A brotherhood of man// Imagine all the people sharing all the world, you// You may say I’m a dreamer// But I’m not the only one// I hope someday you’ll join us// And the world will be as one.”

Imagine, John Lennon

Cover art: Baptism of the Eunuch, Pieter Lastman, 1623

Then an angel of the Lord spoke to Philip saying: “Rise up and go along south on the way going down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” This is a desert. 27 And rising up he went. And behold a man, an Ethiopian eunuch, a power of [the] Candace, queen of the Ethiopians, in charge of all her treasure. He had come to Jerusalem to worship  28 and he was returning; sitting in his chariot, he was reading the prophet Isaiah.29Then the Spirit said to Philip, “Go up and join this chariot” 30 Philip ran up and heard him reading the prophet Isaiah. He asked, “Do you understand what you are reading?” 31And he said, “How can I, unless someone guides me?” And he invited Philip to come up and sit with him.’ 32 Now the passage of the scripture which he was reading was this: “As a sheep led to the slaughter or a lamb before its shearer is dumb, so he opens not his mouth: 33 In his humiliation justice was denied him. Who can describe his generation? For his life is taken up from the earth.” 34 And the eunuch said to Philip, “About whom, pray, does the prophet say this, about himself or about someone else?”35 Then Philip opened his mouth, and beginning with this scripture he told him the good news of Jesus.36 And as they went along the road they came to some water, and the eunuch said, “See, here is water! What is to prevent my being baptized?”  38 And he commanded the chariot to stop, and they both went down into the water, Philip and the eunuch, and he baptized him. 39 And when they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord caught up Philip; and the eunuch saw him no more, and went on his way rejoicing. 40 But Philip was found at Azotus, and passing on he preached the gospel to all the towns till he came to Caesarea. (Acts 8.26-40, translation is by the author)

Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch is one of my favorites from the book of the Acts of the Apostles. It is a rich story of a biblical character that embodies the multifaceted differences of race, class, gender, religion and sexuality: differences that are the source of a great deal of discomfort, division and debate 2,000 years after Luke wrote about them.

I believe it was Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. who noted that Sunday morning is the most segregated hour in America. We are Easter people, yet we have given in to the seductions all around us to create a reduced community customized to our preferences, retreating into the gated community of sectarianism: a society of bigotry, discrimination, and hatred arising from attaching importance to perceived differences between ourselves in race, religion, economic status, and politics and so on.

Looking through the lens of strife and tension created by an insidious and ignorant insistence on sectarianism, it strikes me that as Christians, we have not done a very good job of living into the community of Christ that we proclaim we are baptized into. John tells us that Word was made flesh – the Greek word is ‘sarx’ –  human flesh, no mention of color or race – human, like you and I. There is no distinction. There is no longer Jew or Greek; no distinctions based upon race, color or creed. There is one new humanity.

Yet we seem as far as the east is from the west from truly embodying what Luke is showing us here. Why should any of us care about a eunuch from 2,000 years ago? Why should we people of God care about divisions based on race, gender, sexual orientation and class in our church and society? Why do I care- and I do care very deeply. Because God has told us that He cares. The crucifixion shows just how much.

Our pericope is a reminder to us today that we are to live in community. But how to define that community is the challenge in front of us. Our Ethiopian is a very different man. He is black, of questionable theology and an ambiguous gender and sexual orientation. He is, however an earnest seeker who reaches out and is graciously included into the actions of God. Philip’s courage to heed the Holy Spirit is something that our church needs as the debate surrounding homosexual marriage, insidious racism and the inclusion of the LBGT community rages on.

The parallels are all too obvious as Luke has shown in Philip’s challenge to the guardians of right religion in Jerusalem. When we give a banquet, Christ tells us to invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind: the types of people that the Pharisees considered “unclean” and under God’s curse; the types of people we Pharisee’s of today call gay, lesbian, transgender, bisexual, Black, Hispanic, Hindu, Asian and whatever other judgment a label can make. Empowered by the Spirit, the gospel message draws us in to send us out with the good news for all nations. As with the entire book of Acts, the purpose of this story is about carrying the gospel to all nations, carrying the gospel to the ends of the earth and Luke leaves no doubt as to who is directing Philip and his evangelism. My question for the church, for all of us that claim the label Christian, are we following what the Spirit showed us so long ago? Who are we inviting to the banquet? We are being challenged in this story to rethink many parameters, to rethink what community means, to rethink what the ends of the earth may look like. I suggest that Luke gave us a pretty good idea in Philip and the Eunuch. Sadly, we still have a long way to go.

Patience

To touch is to heal // To hurt is to steal // If you want to kiss the sky //Better learn how to kneel (on your knees boy!)

from Mysterious Ways by U2, 1991
artwork – “The Patient Job,” by Gerard Seghers, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Therefore, brothers and sisters, you must be patient as you wait for the coming of the Lord. Consider the farmer who waits patiently for the coming of rain in the fall and spring, looking forward to the precious fruit of the earth. You also must wait patiently, strengthening your resolve, because the coming of the Lord is near. Don’t complain about each other, brothers and sisters, so that you won’t be judged. Look! The judge is standing at the door!” James 5.7-9 CEB

I had my tonsils removed at the age of nine. It had been a long, miserable winter of measles, chicken pox, strep throat and measles again. Laying in my hospital bed, I was in a lot of pain and I couldn’t wait for mom to arrive and take me home. I kept seeing reflections of people coming down the hallway in the glass on the open door, each time hoping it was her. As the minutes turned into hours, the disappointment mounted along with the anxiety. What if she wasn’t coming? What if something happened? What if she forgot? Well, she did arrive and at the time that was appointed, though it wasn’t soon enough for me. If only I had known more patience. Of course she was coming: moms do not forget.

As we get the season of Advent underway, we join with our sisters and brothers in Christ that have been praying for centuries for the promised return of Jesus. And like them, we need to learn the valuable lesson of patience. Easier said than done when the curse of Amazon Prime has done a pretty good job of eliminating any need of it. A hasty, impatient spirit is simply another form of pride, another form of human arrogance that presumes it knows God’s timetable better than God. James knows that and he is imploring us to do otherwise. That we are being commanded to be patient and that patience is one of the important aspects of the work of the spirit in our lives, tells us just how precious this gift is for us.

This is not an easy time for something that does not come easily to us. Like the nine year old boy anxiously waiting in his hospital room, I suspect that many Christians may share similar anxieties. We live in a world that too often seems broken beyond our capacity to understand, and now,  during this time of Covid, when we are far too isolated from friends, family and community, those anxieties are all the more acute. Fear and anxiety are the breeding ground for the arguments and polarization with which we are sadly too familiar. Be patient. Patience with the “other” is the hallmark of humility and a fruit of the spirit. Be patient, James writes. “You have heard of the endurance of Job. And you have seen what the Lord has accomplished, for the Lord is full of compassion and mercy” (5.11, CEB). Be patient. The Lord has promised, the Lord is coming and the Lord does not forget.

Help

I begin to realize // Magic in my life //See it manifest in oh, so many ways // Every day is gettin’ better and better // I want to be daily walking close

It gets stronger when you get the feelin’ // When you get it down in your soul // And it makes you feel good // And it makes you feel whole

When the spirit moves you // And it fills you through and through // Every morning and at the break of day // Oh, did ye get healed?

“Did Ye Get Healed” Van Morrison, 1987

Many have called the 16th chapter of John, the ‘Spirit Sermon’ – it has the most emphatic, concentrated teaching of all four gospels about the work of the Holy Spirit thru the church for the world. This chapter and the two that preceded it, contain a beautiful sermon delivered by Christ after the celebration of the Last Supper and on the very threshold of his suffering and departure from the disciples. In this last evening before his death, Jesus tries to show the disciples, two elements of reality that are difficult to hold together: he is going away, yet he will not leave them alone.

 I’m not entirely certain, but I believe it was Karl Barth who once said something about the Trinity along the lines of before there was time, there was already love and relationships. And when time is no more, there will still be love and relationships. Relationships are vital. They are the antidote to isolation and despair. Relationships our source of comfort and guidance when the going gets so tough that it is difficult to keep going. 

And so it is for the intrepid disciples, that group from the F Troop of 1st century Palestine: they are now getting it straight from Jesus about his immanent departure and the going is going to get tough. They are upset and confused. In the preceding chapters, Jesus had alerted his band of merry men that he would be with them only a little longer and now they have lots of questions. Where are you going? How can we follow you if we don’t have a map and why does it have to be a secret? Lots of changes loom on the horizon for the disciples and they are confused, and very likely, a bit frightened. Jesus promises that they will not be left alone through it all. He will send the Advocate.

From verse 7: Nevertheless, I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Advocate will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you.

Jesus’ departure, like anyone’s departure, means less of the departed’s presence – simple enough – but here’s the surprise – the departure of Jesus also means a very surprising more – the departed’s presence in another form. It is a going that becomes a coming.

The advocate – ho paraklētos –  the Greek literally means the “one called alongside” to help in tough situations like, court appearances to give true , helpful and encouraging testimony and support. Luther’s German translation is “der troster” – the truster, the encourager, the one who encourages trust,  who will take what is Jesus’ and declare it to us – all that the Father has is Jesus’ and the truster will take what is Jesus’ and declare it to you – to us – the people of God, the ekklēsia, the church.

An advocate –  the truster – the paraclete – the Holy spirit has the special mission to bring Jesus, who is the truth in person, to us. The Spirit will show the church what the world gets wrong in its three key assumptions: what the world is wrong about wrong, about what is right and about who has won. The Spirit will guide the church by the full truth into a full relevance with the fullness of Christ at its core.

The Spirit will teach what the world is most wrong about wrong – about sin – “because they do not believe in me” (verse 9). We all have some good ideas about what is wrong in the world and the evil realities that come with those wrongs. I bet we could come up with quite a long list: war, hunger, racism, gun violence and our list would not be wrong as these things are very wrong indeed. But Jesus is saying that list doesn’t go deep enough, far enough and strangely, it is not singular enough.

Jesus says that the church’s teaching, preaching and living through the Spirit’s led inspiration, will show that the root wrong in the world is the failure to believe in Christ – “they do not believe in me”- Jesus. If the world does not believe that Jesus is the great God’s personal visitor to earth,  is indeed the greatest of all wrongs.  The sum total of all evil in the world flows out from this one basic evil. The Spirit’s first and introductory teaching to we the people of God, the church, in our confrontation with the world – a world that is very much inside each one of us in the church –  is that sin, that which is most wrong is the rejection of Jesus. Our pluralist society sees believing in Jesus as a matter of your personal taste that has no bearing on my personal taste. It holds this view rather than the fundamental issue that relationship to Jesus is a sin or righteousness, life or death matter of truth. The Paraklete, the Advocate, the Spirit will move us, the church, to live, preach, and teach Jesus in this urgent evangelical way,  to bring the world, both inside and outside the church, to its senses and we to our center: Jesus.

So what is really right? From verse 10 – it is “about righteousness, because I am going to the Father and you will see me no longer…”

I know that we can come up with a wonderful list of all sorts of things that are right and true: justice, beauty, love, children, grandchildren, friends, a beautiful sunrise. Yet John’s gospel is showing us that the Spirit will challenge us once again, to show us that we miss the point of Jesus’ career being the most right thing to ever happen in human history. Going to the Father is shorthand for Jesus declaring that I came to die and rise this weekend; to obediently experience the Father’s mission for me in the world. It is a mission that leads to death on the cross and resurrection in atonement for the sins of the world: a mission that conquers death and meaningless. This a mission that is the most important, helpful and right deed that has ever been done.

Significantly though, it is the Church’s living by faith, not by sight that completes the picture. You will see me no longer – You believe Thomas because you have seen me:but blessed are those who have not seen me and still believe (20.29).

So the most profound wrong in the world is not believing in Jesus and the most profoundly right thing that has ever happened is Jesus career and the Church’s continuing faith in Jesus and his mission – despite his present invisibility – a faith made possible through the work of the Holy Spirit. 

And who wins? It is about “judgment, because the ruler of this world has been condemned.” Too often in life, it looks like Satan, the forces of evil, are the winners. The good things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good people deal. From the cross through the holocaust to terrorism, racism, corruption and sleaze, it is the ruler of the world that seems to win the good-evil contests. Jesus tells us here that no, the ruler of the world has already lost and it will be the Holy spirit that will encourage the Church, to live, to preach, and teach, that the victory has been won and that the Lord has risen and reigns in spite of all appearances to the contrary. God wins – and that’s where we come in.

Jesus tells the disciples ahead of time so that they may believe and John’s gospel was written so that we may believe. Wanting to trust the Lord is a form of trusting him, wanting to love others is the seed of loving others. Jesus both gives us this wanting and then takes up this wanting into himself and, by the Spirit, transforms our wanting, into real doing, whether we think or believe, that we are doing enough. It is a peacefulness that expresses trust. There is no need for fear and anxiety when we take up the cross to follow the Lamb as he goes forward to confront the ruler of the world. Led by the Spirit, we follow the way that Jesus goes, which is the way he is, and receive the promise of abiding with us, now and forever. As the events of the immediate and distant future unfold,  we Easter people, the people who follow Jesus, are able to trust that the One who loved us enough to send the Son who sends the Spirit, who still loves us and still seeks to dwell with us.

We know that we are not orphaned.

We are the children of the living God.